Someone Should Write an Opera

I have the whole libretto in my head. All I need is a composer. For what you ask? Oh, just for the drama that has been going on for the last two years during this epic election cycle. But that would only be the back story. THAT drama is so yesterday. The staged opera would start with the trimphal victory march of Barack Obama entering center stage, out-sized, gigantic black SUVs escorting him on either side (SUVs being the modern day elephants), fireworks going off, throngs reaching up, rushing the stage from audience level, Michelle beside him and daughters skipping around. Of course, his courtiers, David Axelrod, David Plouffe, Jon Carson, Valerie Jarrett, and Reggie Love a respectful two steps behind, all singing a jubilant chorus of distinct songs about their own roles in the campaign. Sounds like it would be dissonant...not at all. You know, this is the no drama Obama administration, and they would all end up in sync with the President-elect's theme song, "Change, Change, Change".

While everyone is rockin' out, suddenly, the music morphs from ecstatic to ominous, clouds roll in overhead, thunder (love those timpani) and lightening flashes mid-stage, almost striking the leads. Players swirl quickly and disperse stage right and left, when the biggest burst of thunder and lightening lights up the stage. Lo and behold, rising out of the center of the floor is...Queen Hillary! Surrounded by her own cauldron of attendants. Watch the games begin!

This drama was MADE for opera, and I have the rest of it in my head but it would take much too long (I have to be at a wine tasting) to write the rest, but please feel free to fill in scenes and dialogue as you might imagine them. It's so easy to envision...Hillary being courted, scenes of her and Obama meeting, singing arias of entreaty, politesse, refutation, very little humility. Courtiers have their own behind-the-scenes libretto, and all eventually reconvene center stage for Hillary's acceptance of her new role of Madam Secretary of State. And, finally Bill, who has a minor roll in this libretto, strides on stage, shit-eating grin 'n red nose 'n all, with a neon crown and places it on Hillary's head. Michelle and children cheerfully rush through the front door of a model White House, their new puppy bounding around the stage. It all portends to a Lassie ending. Or does it? More to come.