You guys are not going to freaking believe this one…

Performed by a cast of eight, Marom’s musical is Christmas themed. Bernie Sanders is Jewish, but that doesn’t matter. “Like Santa, Bernie is kind of the ultimate giver. No one gets left behind. No matter your means or background, you get a visit from him. Only his gifts are the exact opposite of Santa’s consumerism-fest,” says Marom. Her spectacle is also postapocalyptic and takes place in the year 2132: Global warming has washed away the eastern coast of the United States, and the characters have gathered for their holiday on the new shore — in Cleveland.

Christmas is obsolete in 2132; instead the characters assemble to celebrate NotMeUs, a festival fixated on Sanders, who has returned to Earth in the form of Sanders Claus. Elders gather the children around to recount the legend of this winter celebration — the story of how our country fell into ruin after failing to heed Bernie’s warnings, but after adopting his policies returned to prosperity — and to sing carols about the decline of corporate greed.

The musical seems to suggest the world we might have had today, if only things hadn’t gone so wrong. It’s a world where posterity does, in fact, thank us for the things we’ve done. A world where single-payer healthcare is common sense. Where windmills and turbines and big solar panels are lawn decorations. It’s also a world that looks an awful lot like Burlington, Vermont.

Songs kinda go like this…

…to the tune of “Santa Baby”…

Santa Bernie,

Please slip some healthcare under the tree, for me…

Been a pauper all year;

Santa Bernie, so hurry to the White House right now!

and…

And as the days went by,

Not a one could deny

There was cray-cray excitement in endless supply.

From city to city,

Time flies when you’re giddy

And those kiddies were pretty high…
**The actors belted out their song from the Gospel According to WikiLeaks, what I assume is the 22nd-century Bible, and they marched in circles around the coffee table with a big Bernie flag. From her station by the cheese plate, Meira jumped in with notes: The seven-year-old with the blue hair needed more enthusiasm. That lyric about fracking and corporate greed? Spoken, not sung.**

and…

O little town of Burlington

You rare, enchanting gem

Secure from real estate tycoons

The Bern hath vanquished them

Enlightened and progressive, so hip and full of spunk…

Whence this musical treasure?

“There’s room in the Revolution for rhyme and whimsy,” Marom told me in August. A 36-year-old after-school program teacher, she had spent much of the previous months traveling around the country, canvassing and door-knocking for her candidate. A fourteen-hour bus ride to South Carolina here, a weekend trip to New England there. Along the way Marom had assembled a team of equally passionate and concerned voters with whom she could form a theater company.

During a blizzard in New Hampshire she met a stage manager from Harlem, and in Coney Island she met a seven-year-old with blue hair and an innate love for crotchety political candidates. On a bus she met Skittlez, a professional fire-breather with a Bernie tattoo on his elbow; in Boston, a filmmaker named Jeremy Kaplan, a dead ringer for circa-‘69 John Lennon, who agreed to document her musical.

Feel the Bern.