xchangagirl
09-20-2004, 10:08 PM
Another article from the school newspaper, from last week. I thought it was so funny!
BRAINS, HEARTS, and COURAGE? OH MY!
NICK KRATSASContributing Editor
By ADAM FLEMING and NICK KRATSAS
Contributing Editors
September Thirteenth, oh-four
Once upon a time, there was a woman named Democracy. One morning, Democracy awoke and found that her mobile home had been picked up by a twister and dropped in a magical city called Washington, D.C.
Democracy realized that Washington was nothing like her home -- in fact, the city was in preparations for a great election. Not knowing where to go, Democracy walked around in circles until she came across a group of little men in matching suits and bowler hats
"Who are you?" she asked.
The little men, sensing that Democracy was something special, surrounded her and, in song, told her who they were.
"We represent the independent guild/ the third party choice, the also-rans/ And on behalf of the other guys, we humbly welcome you to Washington."
An important-looking man in a green coat rushed toward Democracy. "I, the Green party candidate, welcome you. Here's a pamphlet on rainforests --"
Suddenly, the next closest of the little people, a weasel-faced man, pushed the Green party candidate aside. "Hi, my name is Nader. Nevermind him."
"Oh, my," said Democracy. "This is such a strange place. I just want to go home."
"Then you should go see the Voter, who lives in the great White House. He'll help you get home. Just follow the yellow-brick road."
So, alone, Democracy began following the marvelous golden road. Her feet ached. "I wish Nader hadn't told me the truth," she said. "Doesn't he know that the truth has no place in an election year?"
As she spoke, a scarecrow fell into her path
"Howdy!" said the scarecrow. "Look here; I'm made of straw -- and flammable! Watch."
Democracy grabbed matches out of his hand. "Who would trust a brainless scarecrow with anything? What's your name?"
"My name's Bush!"
"Can you help me? I'm trying to find the Voter."
Bush's face was blank. "I'm sorry, but I've never heard of the Voter," he said, "but I know someone who could help."
They walked down the road until they found Bush's friend, an old, rusty, tin man.
"Oh, my! Look, Bush, I think your friend's heart has stopped!"
The tin man sprang to life. "My heart hasn't stopped." He beat his chest with his hand. It rang like a tin bell. "I don't have one."
"Well, your friend tells me that you can help find the Voter."
"First off, my name is Cheney, and second -- Bush, what are you doing?"
Democracy saw that Bush had found the matches and lit his hand on fire.
"Look, I'm made of straw!" yelled Bush.
Cheney grabbed a bucket of water and put the fire out. "Give me those matches, dummy."
"That's not very nice," Democracy said. "You're a mean man! I bet you don't even know how to find the Voter."
"No, I don't know the Voter. And I'm sorry; I can't help being heartless."
"Maybe the Voter could help you get a heart and Bush get a brain," Democracy said.
They walked on and on, but soon they began to wonder if the road led anywhere. Suddenly, a gloomy lion jumped into the road. Democracy screamed; the lion screamed back.
"Who are you?" she said.
"I think it was right of you to scream. If you look back to the records, you will see that I was staunchly opposed to jumping, but knowing what I now know, I still would have authorized myself to jump at you."
"Why you're just a spineless scaredy-cat!" Democracy said. "And I still don't know who you are."
"My name is Kerry, and I'm trying to get to the end of this road, too, but I can't decide how to get there."
"Well," said Democracy, "since we're trying to get to the White House, you should come, too."
"OK, but only if I can bring my dog, Edwards." With that, a small dog jumped onto the road, yipping.
So they all followed the road until they came to the White House lawn, full of political analysts awaiting a message from the Voter.
"There it is," said Kerry. "It's the Voter's palace! Look how white it is!"
But Democracy grew tired as the analysts blathered at her. She yawned as they drew her in with their catchphrases. But, before they could send her to sleep, Democracy sprang up.
"Oh, no," she said. "If I don't get to the White House, I'll never get out of this place."
Democracy ran until she crashed into the palace's doors. They swung open, and she fell through the doorway, with her company close behind.
There, in the White House, was the great and powerful Voter. He was huge, an imperious face with glowing eyes. In a booming voice he said, "Enter, candidates, and let me decide."
Democracy stumbled and her legs gave in. She rolled into a billowing curtain behind the Voter. It came crashing down around her.
She pulled the curtain away from her and looked up.
The Voter was gone. In his place was a man sitting in a La-Z-Boy recliner wearing a helmet with two beer cans strapped to it.
"Oh, no, you can't help me," said Democracy. "This isn't my home. This isn't my home."
Democracy looked at her friends who had come with her. She looked from the Voter to Bush, Cheney, Kerry and Edwards, and began to cry.
"If only this were all a dream," she said, pointing to each one, "in which you weren't here and you weren't here and you weren't here..."
:loveJessica:love
BRAINS, HEARTS, and COURAGE? OH MY!
NICK KRATSASContributing Editor
By ADAM FLEMING and NICK KRATSAS
Contributing Editors
September Thirteenth, oh-four
Once upon a time, there was a woman named Democracy. One morning, Democracy awoke and found that her mobile home had been picked up by a twister and dropped in a magical city called Washington, D.C.
Democracy realized that Washington was nothing like her home -- in fact, the city was in preparations for a great election. Not knowing where to go, Democracy walked around in circles until she came across a group of little men in matching suits and bowler hats
"Who are you?" she asked.
The little men, sensing that Democracy was something special, surrounded her and, in song, told her who they were.
"We represent the independent guild/ the third party choice, the also-rans/ And on behalf of the other guys, we humbly welcome you to Washington."
An important-looking man in a green coat rushed toward Democracy. "I, the Green party candidate, welcome you. Here's a pamphlet on rainforests --"
Suddenly, the next closest of the little people, a weasel-faced man, pushed the Green party candidate aside. "Hi, my name is Nader. Nevermind him."
"Oh, my," said Democracy. "This is such a strange place. I just want to go home."
"Then you should go see the Voter, who lives in the great White House. He'll help you get home. Just follow the yellow-brick road."
So, alone, Democracy began following the marvelous golden road. Her feet ached. "I wish Nader hadn't told me the truth," she said. "Doesn't he know that the truth has no place in an election year?"
As she spoke, a scarecrow fell into her path
"Howdy!" said the scarecrow. "Look here; I'm made of straw -- and flammable! Watch."
Democracy grabbed matches out of his hand. "Who would trust a brainless scarecrow with anything? What's your name?"
"My name's Bush!"
"Can you help me? I'm trying to find the Voter."
Bush's face was blank. "I'm sorry, but I've never heard of the Voter," he said, "but I know someone who could help."
They walked down the road until they found Bush's friend, an old, rusty, tin man.
"Oh, my! Look, Bush, I think your friend's heart has stopped!"
The tin man sprang to life. "My heart hasn't stopped." He beat his chest with his hand. It rang like a tin bell. "I don't have one."
"Well, your friend tells me that you can help find the Voter."
"First off, my name is Cheney, and second -- Bush, what are you doing?"
Democracy saw that Bush had found the matches and lit his hand on fire.
"Look, I'm made of straw!" yelled Bush.
Cheney grabbed a bucket of water and put the fire out. "Give me those matches, dummy."
"That's not very nice," Democracy said. "You're a mean man! I bet you don't even know how to find the Voter."
"No, I don't know the Voter. And I'm sorry; I can't help being heartless."
"Maybe the Voter could help you get a heart and Bush get a brain," Democracy said.
They walked on and on, but soon they began to wonder if the road led anywhere. Suddenly, a gloomy lion jumped into the road. Democracy screamed; the lion screamed back.
"Who are you?" she said.
"I think it was right of you to scream. If you look back to the records, you will see that I was staunchly opposed to jumping, but knowing what I now know, I still would have authorized myself to jump at you."
"Why you're just a spineless scaredy-cat!" Democracy said. "And I still don't know who you are."
"My name is Kerry, and I'm trying to get to the end of this road, too, but I can't decide how to get there."
"Well," said Democracy, "since we're trying to get to the White House, you should come, too."
"OK, but only if I can bring my dog, Edwards." With that, a small dog jumped onto the road, yipping.
So they all followed the road until they came to the White House lawn, full of political analysts awaiting a message from the Voter.
"There it is," said Kerry. "It's the Voter's palace! Look how white it is!"
But Democracy grew tired as the analysts blathered at her. She yawned as they drew her in with their catchphrases. But, before they could send her to sleep, Democracy sprang up.
"Oh, no," she said. "If I don't get to the White House, I'll never get out of this place."
Democracy ran until she crashed into the palace's doors. They swung open, and she fell through the doorway, with her company close behind.
There, in the White House, was the great and powerful Voter. He was huge, an imperious face with glowing eyes. In a booming voice he said, "Enter, candidates, and let me decide."
Democracy stumbled and her legs gave in. She rolled into a billowing curtain behind the Voter. It came crashing down around her.
She pulled the curtain away from her and looked up.
The Voter was gone. In his place was a man sitting in a La-Z-Boy recliner wearing a helmet with two beer cans strapped to it.
"Oh, no, you can't help me," said Democracy. "This isn't my home. This isn't my home."
Democracy looked at her friends who had come with her. She looked from the Voter to Bush, Cheney, Kerry and Edwards, and began to cry.
"If only this were all a dream," she said, pointing to each one, "in which you weren't here and you weren't here and you weren't here..."
:loveJessica:love