Monday, January 21, 2008
9iu11iani
The satirist tried again. He wrote a short piece, using reporters to ask questions about the pressing issues of the day. No matter the topic, Rudy would always respond with his experience with 9/11. At first he would start to answer the question, before slowly rotating his response to how he stood tall during 9/11. But eventually, he would drop all pretense. A reporter would ask Rudy to discuss his health care plan, and his response would simply be, "Well I think I would 9/11." Another question on the economy would return only, "Definitely 9/11. Absolutely." When quizzed about tax reform, just "9/11. 9/11. 9/11"
The satirist satisfied, finished his short story in this manner, and then retired to an early supper. While reading the newspaper, he stopped, devastated. On page 3 was an exchange between reporters and Rudy, nearly verbatim as the one he had just written. No matter the topic, no matter the question, Rudy unerringly pointed his answer to 9/11 and his brief moment of outstanding leadership. Every question.
The satirist gave up. After countless attempts, there was nowhere left for him to go. He couldn't use irony, had no place for biting sarcasm, if the real world continued to exceed his cynicism. He quietly folded his paper, and finished his supper. He then laid down on the floor, curled into a ball. If satire was dead, he realized, then so was he.
