I was sitting at my computer the other day, playing solitaire, hoping for some inspiration to write a new article, when Marge, my fairy godmother showed up.
I hadn't seen Marge since I made my last wish, right after my mother's death from lung cancer. She was looking tired, and a little more careworn than the last time I'd seen her. However, she had a smile on her face I don't think you could have removed with an axe. Although, anyone using an axe on a six inch high fairy would have to be seen as at best ludicrous, at worst a bloodthirsty act of savagery.
"Hey, kid," she said, with her bizzarre contralto voice that could calm a stampeding herd of rhinos and peel paint off a battleship, all at the same time, "I'm back." Marge hitched up her work coveralls, brushed a little soot from her left wing, and continued, "The rate of death from all cancers has declined in this country for two consecutive years, and should continue dropping for three more years unless that fascist in the White House drops the Bomb. Exactly as per our last agreement. I wasn't so sure I could do it, but by the Fates I did! Thanks for the challenge!"
"You're welcome, Marge. It is always a pleasure to deal with someone who loves their work. I have another wish, but I would suggest you might want to take a vacation before you start on it."
"Sounds interesting, kid," Marge replied, "What do you want this time? A wild affair with a gorgeous movie star? The winning Powerball numbers? Super Bowl tickets?"
"No. I want to change the structure of the Federal Government, including some amendments to the Constitution."
I heard Marge whistling a couple of bars of the "Internationale" under her breath, while she looked at me as if she were expecting a punch line to follow. After a few seconds she said, "Are you serious?"
"Absolutely," I replied.
"Ah, me little boy's all grown up, and ready to become a revolutionary," Marge said, with tears in her eyes.
I should probably explain here that one of Marge's previous charges had been a member of the International Workers of the World, or Wobblies. While she was with him, she learned about Marx, Engels, Lenin, Trotsky, Fourier, Saint-Simon, Reed, Goldman and the rest. He had died fighting in Spain with the Abraham Lincoln Brigade.
"No, nothing so extreme. You know I have always been more of an evolutionary than a revolutionary. That as far as being a Marxist, I much prefer Groucho to Karl; and I detest the violence promulgated by Lenin and his ilk. It inevitably leads to the rise of men like Stalin and Robespierre," I replied, watching her face going emotionally indeterminate,"Sorry to disappoint you."
"Oh, I'm not really disappointed," the smile returning to her face, "and of course you are right about violence. All it got Bill was an unmarked grave in Spain. And he was even morally right about resisting the Falangists and their Nazi and Fascist allies. Communist duplicity ruined any chance for the Spanish Republicans in that civil war. Okay, so how do you want to do this?"
I knew Bill was a bit of a sore point for Marge. He had sent her to get his lover and her family out of the way of a Falangist column when he bought the farm, so I was happy to change the subject.
"Number one, I believe that the President's ability to pardon-under Article One, Section Two of the Constitution-should be limited to those who have been convicted, or have pled guilty to their crimes."
"How about people who plead nolo contendere," Marge asked?
Richard Girard is an increasingly radical representative of the disabled and disenfranchised members of America's downtrodden. His fondest desire is to be the one to arrest Bush and Cheney after they leave office in 2009.
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