Recently, I received this heartwarming note from little 8-year old Virginia Plumnelly of Poucher's Corner, FLA:
Dear Mr. One-Eyed,
I am 8 years old. Some of my little friends say there is no Great Pumpkin. Papa says, 'If you see it in on the internet, it's so.' Please tell me the truth; is there a Great Pumpkin?
Your little friend,
Ms. Virginia Plumnelly
c/o Pete 'N Bonnie's Mobile Home Park
Poucher's Corner, FLA
Your little friends are all on drugs. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age and by listening to their socialism-spewing pinko teachers. They do not believe except what they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, VIRGINIA, whether they be men's or children's, are little. Except for Rush Limbaugh's; there is nothing about Rush Limbaugh that's little. At least, nothing we want to talk about until you're a little older. In this great universe of ours that was created by our Judeo-Christian American God, man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect, as compared with the boundless world as presented by Fox News, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge according to Glenn Beck.
Yes, VIRGINIA, there is a Great Pumpkin. It exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion and tax shelters exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be the world of retail commerce if there were no Great Pumpkin. It would be as dreary as if there were no VIRGINIAS. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance, no 180-proof pumpkin-spiced rum to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight and cheating on our income taxes. The eternal light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished, like a filthy, slimy cockroach stomped on by a million angry feet.
Not believe in the Great Pumpkin! You might as well not believe in fairies! (Not that there's anything wrong with fairies.....) You might get your papa to hire illegal aliens to watch in all the pumpkin patches on Halloween to catch the Great Pumpkin, but even if they did not see the Great Pumpkin rising up out of the field, what would that prove? Nobody sees the Great Pumpkin if they're sober, but that is no sign that there is no Great Pumpkin. The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see. Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? (Again, I'd like to reiterate that there is nothing wrong with practicing an alternative lifest--DANCING ON MY LAWN?? GET YOUR FAIRY ASSES THE HELL OFF MY LAWN RIGHT NOW OR I'M CALLIN' THE COPS!! DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I HAVE TO PAY THOSE DAMN MEXICANS EVERY MONTH TO TAKE CARE OF MY LAWN??) Of course not, but that's no proof that they are not there, much like the question: "If a fairy dances on your lawn and nobody sees it, do they leave footprints on your freshly-manicured slice of green heaven?" Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world unless you were around in the '60s.
You may tear apart the baby's rattle and see what makes the noise inside and then sue the manufacturer for damages when your baby brother chokes on the pieces of broken rattle, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the misguided Commie-courting Democrats that ever lived, could tear apart. Only faith, fancy, poetry, love, romance and the Republican Party, can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah, VIRGINIA, in all this world there is nothing else more real and abiding than the Grand Old Party!
No Great Pumpkin! Thank Linus! Thank Charles Shultz! he lives, and he lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay, ten times ten thousand years from now when we're all DEAD, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood, but never taking away the pain and disappointment of getting apples or raisins in your trick-or-treat bag instead of a Snickers.
On a side note, VIRGINIA, there is NO Santa Claus. It's your parents who work day after day, week after week, slaving at a job they loathe just to pay the mortgage so you don't have to live in a cardboard box, pay the car payments so they can drive your sorry self to soccer and piano lessons and gymnastics, even though you are a hopeless, tone-deaf klutz and pay for the food you eat like some swarm of locusts rising up out of Hell to consume everything in its path, who buy you those over-hyped and over-priced Christmas presents that you just have to have, only to find out that they aren't so cool after all and never worked the way they did on TV, so they got shoved underneath your bed, where they will stay until you go off to college and your folks have to rent out your room just to pay your tuition and the renter turns out to be an axe murderer who tries to hide the body of his latest victim under the bed and finds your discarded toys, which greatly disturbs him because of your thoughtlessness, so he hitchhikes to your college, finds your dorm, hacks your roommate to death and IS, AT THIS VERY MOMENT, WAITING IN YOUR ROOM TO KILL YOU!!!!
Don't bother me again, you little brat......