aumdadaGospel 15: oberon, what the puck?

I had a dream. It was summer 1968 and King and Kennedy had both been assassinated that spring. My parents were watching the Democratic National Convention on TV, and Senator Ribicoff was speaking out about the violence outside the hall on the streets of Chicago. Mayor Daley rose and had to be restrained from bolting for the podium and biting off the head of the respected Gentleman from Connecticut. “You lousy motherfucker! Go home!” he screamed and called in the riot police instead. They trooped down the corridors pounding any delegate not pledged to Hubert H. Humphrey into bloody submission. It’s true; Dan Rather took this picture.

Clean Gene eyed the bloodshed from the balcony. There was no time to find a phone booth. He ripped off his white shirt and thin black tie, revealing an eye in a pyramid imprinted on a red, white and blue spandex undershirt. “For truth, justice and the American way,” he cried, swooping down into the action on the floor, where Ed Muskie met him with a piece of green kryptonite. It’s true; Norman Mailer wrote this book.

Lyndon Baines Johnson rubbed his forehead asking over and over again what monsters had he let loose. Abbie Hoffman came in through a side door and answered with a left hook. Bobby Seale raised his fist and punched a gaping hole through the convention hall ceiling. The stars poured in. George McGovern looked up and saw the black hole of 1972. Richard Nixon was smiling like a Cheshire cat licking up the Milky Way. Jerry Rubin took the next bus for Wall Street. It’s true; Mia Farrow acted in this movie.

I woke up. The house was quiet. The night light in the kitchen gave out a shadowy glow. Everything was a lie. Walking past the refrigerator, I grabbed a can of Coke, and went into the living room. Embers still glowed in the fireplace; it was a cool August night and I watched their final performance. There was a long road before me, with dead man’s curves and disappearing straight-aways. There were long stretches of falling asleep at the wheel. There was an accident or two. But there was something there is that keeps one going.