The Sword in the Stone

I have longed for the days of Camelot. I was young when the “shinning moment” occurred, but I longed for its return. I am a student of history. I know Jack had no great achievements, no great victories. Other presidents have accomplished greater things than Jack, before and since, but it was the hope, the dream, the style that calls me back. It was not just Jack, it was Jackie, the “best and brightest,” the goal that was not too far, the burden that was not too great. But how will I know when he has returned?

Ah! but the legend carries the hope of return: the sword in the stone.

Perhaps it will never happen in my life. Perhaps I live in the time of those on the right. Perhaps the nation must let slide all those externalities that the left want to capture but will not until the bill come home to be paid. But I digress.

I thought the man from Arkansas was him – I saw the picture of him as a boy with Jack in the Rose Garden. If ever there was a image that symbolize the passing of the crown, this was it – but he did not pull the sword from the stone. The only thing he had in his hand was his dick.

With John’s death (I should have expected it, in this tragic legend), I wonder did the legend die with him. There were no children, maybe one of the daughter’s children will pull the sword from stone.

But that brings up the bigger question – the one for which I have no answer. Where is the sword in the stone? Where is it, so that I might know when the legend is fulfilled? Obviously it must be a talisman of some sort. But where or what is it?
I have thought long and hard on this and come to what I think is the sword in the stone. It is the press: print, radio, and television news. Not the physical control – nothing as vulgar as that – something less tangible.

The people of the press must in their tiny little hearts -- for their hearts are tiny, from their cynical view of Washington and their jaundice view of politicians and the whole body politic – must feel something special for the man, the man who would be president. It would have to be unconscious and unintended. They are much too cynical to actually admit they like someone. Also, it would go against their professional, objective view of the political arena.

How would I know the sword had been drawn? It would be a powerful weapon: the unconscious support of the press. Nothing could stand in its way. He (or she) would alway be beautiful; would always say the smartest things; that which may be viewed unseemly would be overlooked; what a mighty sword it would be.

Well, that’s were I think the sword in the stone is. I could be wrong. I probably am, but it’s my best guess now. I’ll be watching.