Palindora's Box

The great Conquistador John McCain and his explorers were lost in the jungle. They had thought they would have found their final destination by now, but the Obama expedition was outpacing them. He could not understand how this previously unknown explorer, new to the jungle and untested in the harsh realities of the conquest, could have made so much ground so quickly. All looked grim until a member of his trusted advisors brought before him Palindora’s box. It was beautiful- like nothing he had ever seen. He knew the legend was that this box would give whoever possessed it the power they seek, but to get this power, they would have to open the box. Once opened, it could never be closed, and the possessor of this box would be stuck with whatever came out of it. The potential seemed promising, but there were those who questioned the motives of the locals who presented the box to McCain. They seem to have done so a bit too eagerly, almost as if to be rid of it themselves. Doubters asked McCain to be careful with this gift and inspect it closely, but McCain knew of only one thing – he must use anything he could to get to get to the lost city before Obama. He was a maverick explorer, and he was used to taking these risks.

McCain presented this new box to his expedition to the jubilation of his faithful. Tired from the trail so far, the explorers had new energy, and it filled them with joy. Without even opening the box, McCain could feel his expedition edging closer to the place they sought. “I need only to show this powerful box, “McCain thought, “I don’t need to open it just yet.” And so he travelled with it close to him in full view of his followers in order to remind them of the power they possessed and inspire them.

But the jungle began to grow dark. The brush got thicker with news of economic woe, and their path became muddy with bankruptcies and bailouts. He lost followers as they began to doubt McCain really knew the path toward the promise land, and Obama, according to his spies, passed him yet again and seemed closer than ever to the fabled destination. Try as he might, McCain could not get himself heard over the calls of the creatures of the jungle, hungry for change and starving for new direction.

Desperate for an edge, he opens Palindora’s box. “Just a crack,” he thinks, “just to quicken up our travel…” but as he lifts the lid, it blows open and from the box spews the ugliest of spirit creatures. They fly like ghosts around him and his entourage screaming wretched things like “Terrorist!” “Arab!” “Traitor!” “Kill Him!” and before he knew it these spirit forces had covered his campaign with a dark mist. He saw his people turn angry and vengeful. Their hatred began to show like boils on their skin. They howled in the darkness as the spirits transformed them into something McCain could no longer recognize. The power of Palindora’s box was now in his possession, but he was no longer in possession of his people. The evil had taken a life of its own. It could not be controlled or contained.

The transformed members of his expedition now lurched forth into the brush, grotesque and spewing all types of wretchedness, chasing after the footprints left behind by Obama’s camp. They where no longer motivated to win, but to destroy. He called to them to regain their civil nature but they no longer heard or heeded his words.

As he looked at the unrecognizable world he created, McCain could not help but wonder if it was worth it. In his quest for power, he had unleashed a contaminated and diseased spirit onto his campaign. And despite this sacrifice, he knew in his heart that he was still no closer to his destination. Perhaps now even further from it.