Swift, Twain, Bierce, Parker... move over, there's a new sniper on the rooftop, and her satirical crosshairs are dangerously accurate. Cintra Wilson's Caligula for President is as whimsical and deadly serious as any satire that's come out in decades. And, like her protagonist, Wilson fears no one and takes on all comers: Republicans, hippies, religious zealots, the ACLU, Americans[!], whoever, whatever. The lefties will take this to its bosom, while rightwingers will nod in approval about Caligula's implicit suspicions of "big gummint" as it is. And yet, she is attacking both sides with glee.
Ostensibly an attack on the dismantling of the Constitution by the Bush II regime, Wilson is not so blinkered that she can't see the hypocrisy in just about everything. And she is astute enough to know that the desire of the American Ruling Class to be Caligula-like is nothing new. Funny thing is that, well, it's funny. People on the subway look at me like I'm nuts when I laugh out loud at just about every page.
And then, OUCH, that hurts. A random point in case: Caligula describes how he turned his failed attack on Britain into a PR coup by bringing back seashells from the French coast, and claiming he had defeated Neptune and captured his treasure. And then, pow, "America has killed the ocean, too." Every page has something to think about and laugh about. Caligula for President gets my vote.