Tom Paine Kicks the President's Ass in Celebration of the 4th of July

There was a rather interesting story reported at the Smirking Chimp today:

Tom Paine's ghost had been spinning in its grave for years, ever since the Bush administration first began making a mockery of America's noble, founding ideals, in crass service to greedy monopolists whose only allegiance is to the Almighty Dollar.

On the Fourth of July, 2007, after the last fireworks turned to acrid smoke, and patriotic clichés died in the darkness, Old Tom's spirit finally broke free, with a supernatural "Whoosh!" that startled sleeping robins, sending them abruptly into flight.

...

Not more than two blocks toward his destination, a police car suddenly shot a spotlight on Tom, as a metallic voice ordered him not to move.

He stood straight and faced the menacing beam.

Two officers of the law approached, demanding to know his name and intentions.

"I'm Thomas Paine, author of 'Common Sense' and an enemy of all that defiles democracy, exploits the people, and offends Sweet Providence. I'm off to kick your President's ass."

...

"So why d'ya wanna whack Bush's behind, Tommy Boy?"

"The reason ought to be plain," Tom replied.

"Not only is he an absolute Tory in inclination and temperament, aligning himself with oppressive, exploitative powers, but he does their bidding by ruling as a virtual king. He doesn't heed the people's contrary will...

"He's corrupted our dear America. A nation intended to set the global standard for liberty and worthy, just purpose has been outrageously transformed into a land of fading freedoms, while its young soldiers are sent to aggress countries abroad without appropriate or honest cause...

"Americans fought a revolutionary war to free themselves from tyranny rooted beyond the sea. Now, under Bush, the United States is the occupying tyrant, forcefully preventing others' sovereign self-determination. Like England in my time, America is the empire-keeper today."

...

At about 3:30 AM on the Fifth of July, 2007, as George W. Bush lay sleeping on his Presidential Posturepedic, a mighty blow was delivered squarely into Dubya's rear.

"Yeow! What the hell! Jesus, Laura -- ouch, ouch -- cut your damned toenails!"

But Laura was facing the other direction and snoring loudly.

"Our" President will never admit it, but in his night light's glow that morning, he saw a ghostly figure: a barefoot, grinning man, dressed in Colonial clothing, dancing a very spirited jig.

Then the apparition vanished, with a hair-raising, otherworldly "Whoosh!"

Barney still hasn't come out of hiding, and his master will certainly seem even more goofily disconnected than usual for months to come.

Meanwhile, Tom's back beneath the sod, at peace at last, wearing fuzzy slippers he "liberated"from the Bush's bedroom as he departed.

All's well that ends well.

~reported by Dennis Rahkonen