Can I open my eyes yet?
Is it over? Is the ugly monster all gone now? Can I come out?
All week I'd felt something like the kid sleeping in a strange house late at night, afraid to open my eyes for fear of the big boogeyman hanging out under the bed. Everytime I tried to open my eyes, there it was, the boogeyman.
I flip on Fox News: Boogeyman Jimmy Carter
I hit the web: Boogeyman Al Sharpton
I flip on O'Reilley: Blobby Boogeyman Michael Moore
I flip on NBC: Boogedy Boogy Icky Boogeyman Heinz-Kerry
Finally, on the final night of my nightmare, Herman Munster.
My kids were scared of the boogeyman because the boogey man represented the unknown. What's under that bed or in the closet at night? They didn't know ... but in their evolving little forebrains, it seemed to them to threaten everything they held dear.
I have an advantage dealing with my boogeymen that my kids didn't enjoy with theirs: I've been able to observe my boogeymen in action and I know what they are. I've seen Boogeyman Jimmy Carter wreck an economy and make us the laughing stock of the world. I've seen Boogeyman Bill Clinton stain the White House and ruin our military. Now the boogeymen want us to let them back in the Oval Office...
Oh, yes, I know my boogeymen; and they threaten everything I hold dear.