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Just Like That, Judge: A Parable From That Small Town Through Which Flows Forked River
Just like that, Judge: slap those bastards down.
Impose upon them the harhest penalty
for their violent incursion into our town
on the day the Council's Clerk was to swear
in the recently elected (landslide!) mayor
with whom these aggressors happened to disagree
regarding the election's validity
and the several pollworkers' propriety
(and ethical sense, and moral honesty).
Deny them even the least of clemency;
and when each of them offers a tearful plea
for mercy---do not allow misguided synpathy
to ameliorate or interfere
with your sentences' extreme severity.
Keep in mind the all too frightening memory
of the damage they did to our ancient City Hall,
in their chaotic and self-indulgent ferocity
that lacked even the vestiges of courtesy;
so that such chaos should never again happen here.
Meanwhile, relaxing on a balcony
on the second floor of his second rate motel,
the proprietor who stirred this up---originally---
smirks smugly that he, himself, need not take the fall,
and whispers to himself, "Ain't that just swell!"
Starward
