Lady of the Lake

Barry descended the steep trail to the canyon gingerly, guiding his trusty steed amidst fallen boulders, dinosaur bones and the waterlogged economy of Iceland. The canyon was full of water, its many banks eroded.

Against the dawn sky, the image of the full moon glowed, then receded. Barry rode to the water’s edge and called out, “O Lady of the Lake, I have come to make an offering.”

“Speak, mortal,” a voice commanded from the blue depths.

“I bring you the shredded currencies of the world,” Barry cried, and tossed upon the waters $700 billion US dollars, 250 billion British pounds sterling, Germany’s 500 billion euros in bank guarantees, France’s state guarantee of 320 billion euros and assorted yen, yuan, rubles, rupees, pesos, francs, dinar, kroner, krona, real, riyal, sheqels and a photo of the dour rock star, Gordon Brown.

“So you recognize the world economy is underwater,” the voice reverberated. “And what do you propose to do about it?”

“I will beat John and Moose-alini in the November follies -- Sweet Virgina, Carolina, Florida and Ohio willing. I will bring change you can believe in.”

“I require more than spare change, young Skywalker,” the voice rebuked.

“I’ll sing “Come Together” with Sir Paul, I’maDinnerJacket and Joe the Plumber,” Barry said. “I’ll nail jello to the wall and win the Putin lipstick on a pig while mud-wrestling contest. And even Mr. Republican, Colin Powell, is voting for me.”

“Give it up,” the voice said.

Barry threw $150 million, his September campaign contributions, into the water.

“You must build a bridge across the pond,” the voice intoned. “And I don’t mean a bridge to nowhere.”

“Ich bin ein Berliner, as another handsome, charismatic President once said. I will go to Pakistone and Afghanistone,” Barry promised. “My armies will ensure that Bin Laden becomes Bin Trodden.”

“For a constitutional law professor and Harvard law grad, you are a dense stone,” the voice said. “You must win the Sarah Palin-drome contest.”

“You mean ‘able was I ere I saw Elba’?” Barry asked.

“Yes. An army of unemployed English and philosophy majors must be put to work. Along with stone masons, carpenters, roofers, the endangered species formerly known as autoworkers and steelworkers to bridge the gap.”

Barry groaned. “You drive a steep price, O Lady Who. I will try my best.”

“Do or do not, there is no try,” said the voice.

“Yes, Mistress Yoda.”

Next week: at the Palin-drome

The Edge of the Abyss

The Edge of the Abyss

Pebbles and Bam Bam listened to her transistrock radio, lazing at the edge of the canyon, watching a brontosaurus snack in a grove of aspen.

“159,000 jobs lost last month,” the radio intoned. “760,000 jobs lost in the last year, 9 straight months of job loss.”

“It’s the Pac man economy. It eats your job and then makes that fizzling sound.”

“Bush signs $700 billion bailout.”

“In South Texstone, where 33 are confirmed dead, the search is on for 400 missing people, through debris fields three times the size of Manhattanrock. Rescuers have to wade through the muck, shredded wood and rock and shoot water moccasins.”

Bam Bam sighed. “And if that weren’t enough, Paul Newrock died.”

“It’s a bottomless LaBrea tarpit they’ve left us,” Pebbles said.

“Yeah,” Bam Bam said. “John and Sarah trying to make disco lemonade, pretending that they’re not really dinosaurs. Barry and Joe are saddled up and on the move.”

“John and Sarah are down to the pirate vote,” Pebbles said. “It’s all about leverage. When Bear Stearns collapsed, they’d borrowed $33 for every $1 of equity they had.”

“Talk about Pirates of the Canyon being. How did they get away with that?”

“Congress repealed the Glass Steagall Act. There used to be lines between banking and speculating. Not any more. Confidence has shattered like so many fine China foreign bonds.”

“At least Warren wasn’t buffetted,” Bam Bam said.

“And now the Goldmine Sacked alumni have hired a rocket scientist to blast us out of this quagmire.”

“Be very afraid,” said Bam Bam.

“If we can just get to the inaugrockration without Bush invading Pakistone,” Pebbles said.

“That would be Iran-ical,” Bam Bam said. “So what should we be doing right now?”

“What do you mean?” Pebbles said.

“We’re in our last year of high school. You’re going to go off to Shale University or one of those other Ivy Rock schools. I’m going to continue to find myself no matter where I go. Who in this election is for us?”

“I don’t know if I’ll be going to Shale,” Pebbles said.

Bam Bam looked at her.

“They’re cutting Fred’s hours at Slate Rock. I could be dishing Dinoburgers at the Cro-Magnon drive-in.”

“They’re cutting Barney’s hours too,” Bam Bam said. “Let’s go for a walk.”

Pebbles turned off her radio and put it in her pocket. They walked along the edge of the canyon. The sky was the color of eggshells, with dark clouds scuttling across.

“I want to do something for Barry,” Bam Bam said.

“Why? I don’t know if I can trust either of them.”

Bam Bam pointed to his head. “More than a hat rack.”

Next:

The Other Side of the Pond