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It had been dark for a very long time, and nothing good could grow. Hate and treachery bloomed in the squalor, and lies grew with the speed of thistle, but nothing came forth to lift the spirit, or to ease the pain. I could not see my hands in the pitch, but I knew that I had worked them long and hard trying to mold a reward that always seemed to be miles from my outstretched arms. If only I could see it. If I could, I would wrap myself around it and I would scream to anyone who would listen “Look – this is what lies behind the filth. See how it shines, how it asks for nothing but a chance to be heard. Put it in the sun, and it will grow a hundredfold, for it thrives among those who honor its lineage and who cherish its ideals.” I hoped with every inch of my being that I would someday once again see that reward.
I saw it last week. It came in the form of a heretofore-unknown man who, as too few do, put politics and ambition aside in lieu of a search for truth. It came in the form of an investigation that the cabal thought would apply another coat of whitewash to the wall, but instead tore down just enough of it so all of America could take a glimpse at the filthy neighbors on the other side. The neighborhood that everyone thought was full of freedom was instead full of shit, and the odor now poured through the wall like gasoline. The sound of striking matches could be heard in the ever-closing distance.
Lying was the operative word that tore the hole. The man who is but an EKG away from the Vice-President lied to a grand jury, then lied again when asked if he was telling the truth. He lied to the F.B.I, then lied again, and he obstructed justice to such a massive degree that over 2000 innocent American soldiers and countless numbers of Iraqi men, women and children will watch their lives go on without them. They lie dead in fields, in cemeteries, and in unmarked graves while an adult with the ridiculous nickname of Scooter does his best to push the number skyward. He does so with the implicit understanding from his boss that what he is doing is perfectly acceptable, and his boss joins the party by exposing a covert CIA agent whose only job was to stop the proliferation of weapons of mass destruction that Mr. Cheney scares the American public with on an almost daily basis. The agent, however, had a husband who was privy to the lies, and unlike Scooter was not looking to ramp the Death-O-Meter skyward. He made the foolish decision (in this administration) to tell the truth, and for this he was punished in the worst possible way. He was given the offer that he can’t refuse, the horse’s head wearing the masthead of The New York Times and the sheets stamped “return to NBC.” Thankfully, he recycled the paper and burned the sheets, then went hammer in hand to make another hole.
Last week we were finally able to break that wall, but those who built it build it strong. Massive blocks of fear and lies, bound tightly with jingoism and propaganda compose it, and it will take time for us to bring it down. More importantly, we must be absolutely sure that when we bring it down, it stays down. If we let just one builder go free, without being absolutely sure that it was his hand that helped put it up, our cause will suffer.
So I ask today that you not look at the light the wall holds back, but instead at the light that the hole lets in. Let that be your reward, for now, knowing that the hole can and will get bigger, as the builders get caught in the act. They must try and build the wall again, but they can no longer do it in secret. The holes we have bored let in too much light. It will shine upon them, as it has done before, and it will expose them for what they are. Sunlight is the greatest of disinfectants, and we have many germs to kill.
As of last Friday, they began to die.
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