Saturday evening while I was doing some organizational work around my office, studio and man cave, I had RFD-TV on the big screen. They were showing an old black and white “Porter Wagoner Show.” His musical guest was Tex Ritter who sang his classic “Hillbilly Heaven.” That was my inspiration for this column: “Pleasant Dreams.”
I dreamed I was there in Political Heaven
With people who did great things.
All were believers in liberty
Though none were wearing angel wings.
There in the far corner
A redhead was giving a narration,
About a steamy Philly summer
And writing the Declaration.
To his side an elderly gent
Sat with spectacles askew
He was there at the formation
Of a republic so new.
Into their presence
Strode a diminutive man
Of mighty stature and demeanor
With a Constitution in hand.
Two Yankees sat at a table
Doing what cousins normally do.
One was writing “Dear Abby,”
The other thinking of a brew.
Another bloke was grousing.
Was told “Don’t be a pain.”
He said he couldn’t help it
‘cause that was his family name.
Another Yankee walked in the place.
A merchant with wealth untold
Who gave it up for liberty
And signed his name so bold.
The first state to ratify
Had a little Caesar.
He was a freedom fighter
And a sickly geezer.
In the door came Patrick.
Very alive, you see,
For he favored death to come
If there were no Liberty.
A tallish man rose up,
And out the door he went.
In one voice the assembly said,
“Farewell, Mr. President.”
Then, something happened.
I lost the glory I’d found,
As my body started sliding
Through the floor, then down.
Disoriented I kept falling.
Down and down I fell.
When I landed with a thud
In hot political hell.
There to greet me was Alex.
A bastard and banker was he.
He loved central banking
And its ties to tyranny.
Telling a story to the side
The Rail Splitter was animated.
He violated so many freedoms
That he’s constitutionally constipated.
Across the way stood Teddy
Looking “bully” in his olive drab.
He increased the reach of government
With his progressive wilderness grab.
Ole’ Woody was there
With his nez pierce glasses.
He and his power wife
Treated us all like asses.
“I’m Franklin,” the patrician said,
“Four times the people selected me,
And if weren’t for my death,
I’d serve through eternity.”
“You’ve done enough, FDR,
To ruin our blessed land.
You should have listened to
A little lady named Rand.”
He didn’t like my retort.
He was angry, I could see.
His feelings may be hurt,
But he stole my liberty.
Looking around the room
I saw the Texan, LBJ.
His massive Great Society
Stole more freedoms away.
Tricky Dick was there
Looking grim and sour.
His awful EPA and OSHA
Increased the government’s power.
Then I saw the Bushes two,
The father and the son.
The younger was forty-three,
The other was forty one.
Despite their words about
The government would not grow.
They never took the chance
To tell the Congress “No.”
I looked around the room
Puzzled by what I did not see
Where’s the current president?
Isn’t this where he should be?
“Oh no,” said the elder Texan,
“He’s not doing so well.
He tried to get in here,
But he’s too bad for hell.
The Devil locked the door
When Obama was on his way.
He sent him further down
To his eternal pay.”
“Whoa, wait a second,”
I caught myself thinking.
The Bushes remain alive.
What have I been drinking?
That wasn’t heaven
And this cannot be hell.
Who will believe this story?
Who is it I can tell.
Just that very moment
My alarm began to ring,
I woke from my vivid slumber
Trying to remember everything.
I dreamed I was there
In political heaven, pray tell.
I also descended below
To overcrowded political hell.
I tell you this, my friend,
With no attempt at mirth,
Those S.O.B.’s in Hades
Have given us hell on earth.
Now we must endeavor
For a new Freedom’s birth,
And make their eternal agony
More hellish as we celebrate on earth.
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