The Vinyl Crusade
by Oscar Deadwood
The Politician came to the service and sat in the first pew with a confident and submissive grin pasted across his face. He sat straight-backed and cross-legged with his wife attached to the crook of his arm.
His wife wore a lime-green suit and modest skirt and The Politician wore a black suit with a black shirt and a lime-green tie and beads of sweat poured off of his brow and across his mouth but still, still his smile wouldn’t budge.
The Church Leader stood in front of the congregation dressed like The Diva at the zenith of Her career and said her good mornings and read the bulletins and asked The Diva to sing songs for the sick and the dying and to bring peace to The Universe and to enlighten all those who had yet to hear The Record.
The Church Leader then sat down in a high backed chair on the flower strewn altar and closed her eyes solemnly as the First Track of The Record played from speakers recessed into the cavernous ceilings of the crowded and humid and still chapel. The Politician and his wife nodded their heads in familiar reverence and The Politician looked out of the corner of his eye to make sure the cameras were focused on him.
When The Politician was satisfied that he had the cameras undivided attention he then proceeded to shake with emotion as the First Stanza of the First Track of The Record reached a lyrical crescendo: Free, Free, Free Your Mind And Your Body, Your Heavenly, Heavenly Body Will Follow, Follow Your Free, Free Mind.
And as the First Track concluded the Church Leader stood in front of the congregation and introduced The Politician and The Politician stood up and acknowledged the polite applause of the thousand-member congregation.
The Politician walked up to the altar, gave the Church Leader the Deep Bow of Submission and stood at the podium. He cleared his throat without removing his smile and tried to look solemn and pensive and sincere all at once. He told the congregation how important The First Track was for him, how he started every day before dawn, listening to the First Track in meditative yoga as the early, early morning was the only time a Politician had to keep for himself.
“I can’t tell you what a comfort those lyrics are,” The Politician said, his face folding and unfolding from anguish and joy with a smile that never faded and a smile that never wavered. “Those lyrics help me execute my office everyday and anywhere, it’s amazing what one can get done as long as they Free Their Mind!”
And The Politician launched himself into the meat of his speech, an impassioned plea for re-election, an impassioned plea for a thousand different agendas. “And we, we good citizens of this Free, Free World, and those of us who are Children of The Diva are so, so fortunate to possess Free Minds!
“Our enemies, and you know they are just waiting to strike, you know they are waiting to destroy the things they fear: The Record, the love of The Diva, all the things of this Universe that we hold sacred!” And The Politician grabbed his right wrist with his left hand and drew both hands towards his heart as he said “sacred.” The Congregation nodded in affirmation and sporadic applause could be heard echoing off the ceiling of the chapel.
“And so, my opponent, my party’s opponents, though they claim to listen to The Record, would lead you to believe that those we’ve left behind on Earth have no interest in our World, this world granted us by the grace of The Diva.
“Our enemies on Earth say they have no interest in our affairs, yet they still insist on showing us their ugly heads, they still insist on trying to spread their faith to this World and keeping our faith out of theirs. No other world would ever attack us, except for Earth.
“So, my fellow siblings, a vote for me would be a vote for a vanquished Earth, an Earth we can then rebuild, under the wisdom and joy and beauty of The Record!”
The Politician stood in the center of the altar and gave the congregation the Deep Bow of Submission and the congregation stood and gave The Politician a chorus of enthusiastic applause and the rhythmic and slow drum beat of the Ninth Track of The Record burst from the speakers, the heavy bass lines shook the stained glass windows and sent seismic quivers through the pews.
The Politician then took his place next to his wife and kissed her quickly and hugged her passionately as the cameras focused on his eyes, the rivers of sweat looking like hard, hard tears as they flowed past his eyes.
The Church Leader took her place in the center of the altar, surrounded by her acolytes who were dressed like The Diva’s back-up singers. The congregation stood and waited to approach the altar, to receive the service ending Pill, the Pill that would give them the stamina and desire to dance to The Record, to dance and listen until the next service.
Copyright © 2006 by Oscar Deadwood