The disastrous production of BushCo, a minor opera best known for its collection of ear-grating contradictions and cacophonous lies, is about to end as all operas do.
The Fat Lady will assume center stage, and will belt a tune that can be heard with clarity all the way to the back of the balcony, signaling an end to the nightmarish extravaganza whose aftertaste will be as bitterly remembered as the outlandish price of admission.
After an expenditure of billions of taxpayers’ dollars on sets, props and costumes rather than a script of style and substance, the cast is already rushing to the nearest backstage exit, hoping to escape a more-than-irate audience demanding a refund on their tickets.
In fact, some haven’t even waited for the last curtain call, but have already snuck out into the alley behind the theater, claiming a suddenly-remembered need to quit the bright lights of show-biz in order to spend more time with their families.
But the fact is that in this soon-to-close show, the Fat Lady is none other than Lady Justice, and as emaciated and weak as she has become – having been bound, gagged and tortured backstage during the entire run of the BushCo debacle – she is ready, willing, and more than able to take the stage and regale the world with her finale.
After the frustration of the last seven years, as the crimes of this administration have mounted and become more blatantly obvious with seemingly no end in sight, it is understandable that so many have adopted a never gonna happen attitude when it comes to imagining that these criminals will finally get their just desserts.
But Lady Justice has her fan base and, when all is said and sung, she will not be deterred from – you should pardon the expression – bringing the House down.
We have seen this phenomena before – the concentration camp inmates who never thought they’d see justice done, but who, after years of dashed hopes and no basis for any real anticipation, watched the Nuremberg trials unfold, saw Eichmann twitching in the prisoner’s dock, saw those who had haunted their nightmares, suddenly humiliated and frightened, stand trial at long last.
This will happen. Lady Justice may not be as swift to act as we would hope, and after years of the silence imposed by her captivity, it may take some time for her voice to regain its traditional strength.
But she will sing again and, when she does, there will be no corner of the stage dark enough for the guilty to hide. Slowly but surely, the house lights are being turned up, and the rats are becoming increasingly uneasy about the alleged security of their hidey-holes.
The audience has turned, and they have turned with a vengeance. For some, the turning point came well into the first act; for others, it is the last scene, now in progress, that will prompt them to rush to the ticket office, waving their playbills and demanding to see the show they had been promised, and not the one they had been duped into sitting through, no less paying for.
Shredded documents, missing taxpayer dollars, deleted hard-drives, contradictory statements, claims of executive privilege, secrecy due to alleged national security interests, corruption, escalating debt, cronyism, malfeasance, sex, lies and erased videotapes – and the fact that the country has nothing of value to balance the losses it has sustained due to all of the above – is a scene about to explode on the stage in a display of fireworks bound to dazzle those still left in their seats, not to mention capturing the attention of the so-called MSM critics who hailed this bomb as an unabashed hit since opening night.
So be patient, my fellow opera attendees. The Fat Lady WILL sing, and when she clears her throat and opens her mouth, the whole world will hear the sweetness of her dulcet tones – which will sound all the sweeter after such a long absence from her rightful place on the stage.
Posted in full with author's permission.
Originally posted at democraticunderground.com: http://journals.democraticunderground.com/NanceGreggs/320