"Paul Revere's Ride,"

or, "The Midnight Call,"

(A Call Sounded the "Clinton Era"),

by Eben

Down the road through rain and dark, a bold man rode toward Meeker Park; Ezra’s mouth dropped open wide, to see Paul’s second horseback ride. They may have thought him outdated, incorrect, and long since dead; yet there he goes as midnight strikes, a PATRIOT (not of their likes!). What’s he shouting in the night? What could make him so uptight? Business trends are not too bad, and interest rates are down a tad. There’s rioting in the Left Bank, the peace process looks like it sank, but comedy--oh, my! Entertaining Seinfeld’s good as “geld”. A belly laugh drives away all doubt that we don’t know what we’re about. Clinton is our winner yet. Uh, Bob Dole? His day is done, his sun has set. When times are going well as these, why change docs in mid-disease? Chemotherapy--no way! Our cancer treatment’s far more gay; it’s Band-Aid here, and cough drop there, until the patient can declare “Splendid! Or ought now I take a little pot for this headache? You seem to know just what to do, I might do worse than aping you. When there’s chance to lend a buck and reap a thousand (oh, what luck!), I’d be a fool not to try and stick my finger in the pie. And if I see some nice young thing-- why not have a little fling? My wife--like yours--will look away, toleration reigns today! Officer, arrest that man! He needs to stop and understand he can’t shout “Wake up!” in our town--you need a permit written down. And that horse he’s riding on destroys the ozone, and our lawn! It must pass a rigid test the EPA has for this pest. Diapers are needed too, or be prepared when plaintiffs sue.” And so Revere was thus unhorsed, the law against him was enforced. Led off to the county jail, no bond was set for both their bail. Parole? Don’t hold your breath! The first degree gets certain death. There’s no appeal for his crime, even if it’s set to rhyme.* No need warning us of fate: liars wrecked our ship of state. Ike and Johnson, Harry too, twisted truth to suit our view. Now we’ve got the perfect man, he’s just like us, he loves Both/And. Talk tough on crime, but spend a dime. The war on drugs? Shoved under rugs. At the same time, say you hurt, you feel each owie, you assert. Speak well of family and flag, but slip two Moms in Janie’s bag. Sign each bill for nice effect, but promote shams that re-elect. Use the gays and blacks and poor, tell them it is Either/Or; “Either put me back in power, or dullard Dole will have his hour.” It’s the same you did in Arkansas--the school that taught you: bend the law. How it worked! Your polls zoomed high, and Dole got to say “Good-bye.” That stage he fell off is the one where you now stand up next to none. Perot can sue till he turns blue, You even have each voting Jew. Good Times are what you guarantee, and peace, goodwill, from sea to sea. It sounds so good, but can’t be true-- oh, Paul Revere, you’re deja vu! Why fight the tide? they said when tyrants ruled far and wide. Why risk your life and limb, dear Paul? To ride at night, it begs a fall! And yet you thought your freedom worth a fight to save your land of birth. Tyrants change their mode of dress, but always ever they oppress. Foes you faced are still the sort that enslave us from bench and court. Or substitute ACLU, the pressure group that loves to sue-- attack a school kid because she prays, slap on fines till she obeys; her parents driven into debt despair and cower in your net. And then there’s activists for whales or whatever sprouts claws and tails. Man has no right, or so they claim, to murder clams without some blame. Their underlying agreement holds human life is excrement. Thus they spare no sacrifice to save the lives of field mice. What matters least is people starve till bark off trees is what they carve. Make all factories shut down so noble beasts rule Earth around. This list of tyrants knows no end! Dear Paul Revere, please ride again! No jail can hold a man so bold, whose record shines like purest gold. A true American like you is not ashamed of Pilgrim view, that God and church are our mainstays, foundations we must never raze. You’ll face the stocks of ridicule, the taunts of the most learned fool. How dare they rip you from your page** you wrote with Honor as your wage. No one paid you for your ride, it was enough you took Right’s side. You might have done like we do now, look at Wrong as friend, and bow; but, free man with integrity, you rode to save our Liberty.

*Longfellow’s “The Midnight Ride of Paul Revere”; **Paul Revere, patriot, silversmith, coppermill founder, is being rewritten out of American history books for public school children; Exekiel 3:17-19

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