Facing the Face

America slowly woke up from it's nap. After a long stretch and yawn, a furtive glance around the room confirmed this was not just a dream. Still there, Botox stood in the corner, droning lines from that Marxist poet, "The real America..."

It was obvious the Botox was wearing thin, you could see it in his Lurch-like furrows. That would turn off some voters, sure. No matter — a newer, prettier Face was offered up as his shadow. A youthful, talking Face, with all the shining words any weasel would be proud to utter. But, this one could do more than just talk: he was actually able to channel the spirits of the unborn. What a great show, worthy of any revival tent! He could tell us what the dear babies were feeling, thinking and hoping, who to blame for any mishap. How much the miscreant must pay. And it was always a big number. Big number... yeah, he's our boy!

But America was in no mood for this tripe. The fact is, the Face was already looking for a job. The home town folks clearly having signaled their rejection of this Elmer Gantry huckster, were prepared to reject him again. And his lack of substance, that moral core he abandoned on the courthouse steps. Yes, he was on the way out, at least from the big tent. Americans love to buy, but hate to be sold.

Oh, he will be okay. His act just doesn't scale well. He can convince any twelve at a time of any non-existent fact you care to cite. And channeling babies! Damn! Feed him the thought, he will sing the song. Any thought, any song.

He may not be able to convince America, but he can and did convince Botox and the cadre — the true believers in "the cause". So, crank up the volume. Let loose the dogs. Go offensive, stay offensive, never back down, never yield, not one single point! Sure, you can say "it ain't necessarily so", but equally true, "if you say it loud enough and long enough, people will believe anything".

But just in case, keep the lawyers handy.