Halloween admittedly snuck up on me this year. I typically have a personality for my All Hallow's Eve column picked out well in advance of the especially spooky celebration. Not this year. This year, I gave it no thought, until just a few days ago. So I am forced to rummage through the leftovers of the dollar discount costume shop in the back of my own mind for the column's costume this year. Let's take a look.
There's always Dickens, but that reads more like Christmas than Halloween (yes, I know he wrote much more than "A Christmas Carol"). Maybe someone more modern. Truman Capote. No, that collar looks way too tight. Hemmingway, maybe. No, that's hardly a costume at all — it's just a pair of slacks, an ash tray and some crumpled wads of paper.
Maybe in the classics section. There's a Bram Stoker outfit — not terribly distinct to look at, but hard to pull off literarily. Shakespeare. No, I still want people to understand the column. Ah, Poe. Edgar Allan Poe. Perfect. It even comes with a prosthetic forehead and a quill. This will work just fine. Now just let me mess up my hair and apply this strangely thin little mustache. I'm not sure how this tie is supposed to go, but it doesn't seem like it really matters, so I'll just tie it in an odd knot and sort of tuck the ends where ever they fit. Looks great.
Alrighty, buckle up for a quick take on modern happenings from one of the U.S.'s most noted depressed poets. I'm told Poe worked on his famous poem "The Raven" for something like nine years. Obviously, we don't have that kind of time right now, and it's a costume rather than a full on homage, so let's see what an hour or so can yield.
Once upon a lunch break waning, in search of tales entertaining
'Oer many an article pertaining, did my eyes ponderously pore.
When I sighted slowly scrolling a headline story set to rolling
and a price it could be tolling, tolling on the House's floor.
"'Tis some futile bill," I muttered. "Rolling 'cross the House's floor.
Only this and nothing more."
Ah, distinctly I remember. It was well before November —
and nearly every Congress member plied opinion to the chore.
Earnestly, I read the coverage, as each party tried to leverage
and their public image salvage, salvage before damaged more,
Lest the talk reach it's second peak there upon the Senate floor —
a vote inside an open door.
While each party was competing, suddenly there came a Tweeting
From it came the claim of cheating — something we had all heard before.
Still others stalled the testimony, succeeding for five hours only.
Impeachment marched ever slowly, closer to that Senate floor.
Though the blue bird did implore, to stop before the Senate floor.
Keep it from the Senate floor.
Still the work goes on unceasing, testimonies still increasing.
We eagerly want the releasing of words heard beyond closed door.
Some expect their herald pleasing. Other hope for words relieving.
Which ever comes from this weaving tale remember evermore,
The things we gained and which we've lost there upon the chamber floor.
May we relive them nevermore.