One of my favorite stories of
the Holiday season is A Christmas Carol by
Charles Dickens. What could be more inspiring than that moment when
Ebenezer Scrooge, after enduring the long dark night of the soul,
wakes up a new man? Scrooge’s transformation from a fearful,
angry tightwad to a joyful gift-giver always fills me with hope for
humanity, even in these troubling times.
As a Westerner
and a conservationist, it has been hard to find much to be hopeful
about in recent years. This administration has shown little respect
for our region’s astonishing natural heritage. The
not-so-subtle attacks on basic environmental laws and the constant
push to hurry up and drill, mine and cut our public lands in the
name of national security and corporate profits have made it hard
not to feel a little stingy toward the man in the White House. So I
have recently found myself fantasizing about how George W. Bush
might redeem himself in his last few years of office if he were
Scrooged.
Imagine the scene: The ghost of Christmas
Future has just left the White House and George W., with his own
mortality in mind, wakes with a start. He springs to the window and
cranks it open. Below, a few scraggly looking protesters trudge in
front of the wrought-iron gate, holding up signs that say things
like “Save the White House Turkey: Eat Tofu.”
Shouts
George: “Hey, you down there, you magnificent, long-haired,
first-amendment loving patriot. What day is it?”
“Why
it’s Christmas day, Sir,” responds a startled man, his rasta
locks covered with “Impeach Bush” buttons.
“Goody!
I’m not too late!” George exclaims. He pulls off the wall a
gold-plated automatic machine gun, a post-election gift from a
sheik, and tosses it down. “My good man, go hock this and buy
yourself 100 tofu-stuffed millet turkeys to share with your
honorably disheveled friends. And keep the change!”
Then
George turns and tells a visibly stunned press secretary: “Assemble
the cabinet in the Oval Office. I have finally come up with that
vision thing Dad is always talking about!”
Fifteen
minutes later, George addresses his cabinet. “Friends, I have been
born again, and I know now that what was up is down, and what was
left is right. We must act now to save what is left of my
presidency.
“I am a Christian, so I revere all of
creation. That means I care about all of those birds and bees and
other endangered critters. Dick, go tell that Mr. Pombo that I will
not back his bill to gut the Endangered Species Act, and that if he
wants me to campaign for his re-election, he better double the
funding for habitat protection and law enforcement. We will
prosecute those who harm creation, but we will not execute them
like a common Texas criminal. They’ll just be required to
attend an all-organic dinner party with Laura, me, Cindy Sheehan
and the staff of the Center for Biological Diversity.
“Gale, let’s pull the plug on Arctic Refuge drilling. What a
waste of time that has been! And let’s use that law old Slick
Willy Clinton used to create a bunch of our own national monuments
in Wyoming’s Red Desert, Colorado’s Roan Plateau and
New Mexico’s Otero Mesa. Why should he get all the fun?
Besides, that’s what the local people want, and in a
democracy, we respect the will of the people.
“Let’s quadruple the investment in alternative energy and
require auto manufacturers to double the mileage of their cars and
trucks (it’s for their own competitive good!). Our good work
will make the Kyoto Treaty look like a cheap suit, and encourage
the rest of the world to help us stop this thing called global
warming.”
For a moment, the room is deadly silent. Dick
Cheney and Karl Rove look ill. A tear trickles down George’s
face, though he continues to smile broadly. “Be of good cheer my
friends. If I can change, so can you. God Bless us, every one.”
Paul Larmer is a contributor to Writers on the
Range, a service of High Country News in Paonia,
Colorado, where he is the paper’s executive director
(paul@hcn.org).
Republish our articles for free, online or in print, under a Creative Commons license.
