Screen Doors

"BREAKING NEWS!" Noisy flashes of bright desperation posing as journalistic coverage. From the beginning and in the end, this night is not unlike numerous others spent under the spell of smoke, and merlot, and camaraderie. In the foreground lies the usual assortment of amusement and stability - comfort in repetition and its consistency. The chatter in the background is constant, at times approaching a volume as obnoxious as it is unnecessary. Speculation drives curiosity, and the two's eternal dance provides the foundation for journalistic commentary.

Suddenly, a man - a leader - his face strong, his voice stern. As he reads from his script, I allow the gigantically small impact of his words to wash over me, falling momentarily for the trap. Just then, a savior! Prancing through the wooden fortresses and haphazard compounds of his world, enters the cat - a feline often afraid of everything, save for the other side of the screen. His final destination is none other than the lone barrier to unimaginable freedom - if only he could escape!

In the background, the somber, yet triumphant tone of the commander is being met with brash excitement and an irrational sense of victory. Perched in the foreground, the cat revels in his unyielding determination. Eyes wide and claws extended, he tries again and again to realize his truest aspiration. At no point in his quest does the cat pause to reflect on the words of the leader, nor of the blood that is now leading rallies and celebrations from coast to coast. Instead, the cat continues his futile escape effort, pricking and pawing at his eternal enemy. Alas, to little fanfare, he succumbs to the inevitability of his battle - it was, in the end, not to be.

Indeed, on this night only one enemy would experience defeat. A monster, no doubt, but a man nonetheless. And as his corpse sways quietly with the ebb and flow of the world beneath, yet another enemy maintains his survival, embodied in our festivities and the bloodlust that fuels their expansion. The trap is participation, as is the crime, and it's an offense for which we all, on this night, are guilty. Except for the cat, of course.