Originally published in New York City, Friday, March 2, 2007
“The construction of your gingerbread house will closely follow the building concepts of a real house. Proper planning is essential. You can make the gingerbread ahead of time, making sure to let it thoroughly cool in a dry area before wrapping securely to store. Be sure to allow plenty of time to put the pieces together.” – About.com
I was having dinner with a reader in Manhattan earlier in the week, and she asked me, somewhat jokingly, what my catchall interpretation of the Saturn-Neptune opposition (which was exact Wednesday) was.
“Dick Cheney did Sept. 11,” I said, without even thinking. Okay, that’s not entirely true. I’ve actually thought about it a lot, but I wasn’t expecting to say that.
You may be wondering how I know, besides some graffiti and an astrological chart that said as much the first day, that chart being an orgy of collusion, illusion and manipulation; a political media masquerade ball wherein Osama bin Laden comes dressed in a flight suit wearing a pacemaker with a “Mission Accomplished” banner behind him, and old Uncle Dick walks around the cold Afghani hills, smiling calmly, dressed in a turban and white robes, steadying himself with a long wooden staff.
But before I get into that and why it matters, however, I must share with you the Parable of the Gingerbread House. This parable is from my investigative reporting files. In my fantasy world, everyone would be able to get some experience as an investigative reporter and spend some time covering the government as basic civics and self-confidence training. Here is a small investment in that coming true.
There are people who can make beautifully realistic gingerbread houses. These take a lot of patient craftwork, and in some families where there is a tradition, the use of skills learned over several generations. You can set the finished house amidst a few plants, and in the right light photograph it so that it looks so cozy you could shrink yourself, crawl in, make a fire and have a lovely weekend in the woods. But the whole thing is edible. It’s not really a house. It just looks like one.
If you want to prove this, you could eat the whole thing. Or, you could taste part of it. For example, you could eat the chimney, which is made of thin, brittle cake. You could nibble one of the shingles, which is made of candy. You could scrape off some of the snow, which is frosting. It does not really matter where you begin. You can taste any part of the house and discover that it’s confectionary. After tasting a few pieces, you could use inductive logic and predict that the whole house is candy and cake. Or, if you’re less certain, you could eat it all.