I tried my idea for global peace on a few people in the crowd today as we waited for the Exploding Judases to commence.

“What if all across the United States people had a day like this where you could hang effigies of your enemies and other bad people — and watch as they were blown to bits?”

“Just think of the catharsis!”

How to begin to describe the strange looks that I got. …

Someone was kind enough to explain that a thing like this could get out of hand very quickly in the emotionally bifurcated U.S. Everybody would be effigying the effigy out of each other. No telling where it would end.

On the positive side, with so many people slowly backing away from me, I had a pretty good view of the Exploding Judases.

You know who Judas was, right. He’s the disciple who ratted out the whereabouts of Jesus to the Pharisees so they could send the Romans could arrest him. Judas later weighed the evilness of his act against the 12 pieces of silver he got for doing the dirty deed. It was enough for a man to go hang himself.

Which is what Judas did.

Exploding Judases are sort of like that. But also really very different.

In the past, the life-size papier mache effigies were made to look like disreputable people — like politicians, celebrities, greedy businessmen, really bad sports stars, devils, the CEOs of oil and gas companies, nasty DJs, and the other nasty DJ. (He was the grand finale during the years when his racist, anti-Mexican rhetoric was peaking.)

I suppose if your ex-boyfriend was a real jerk and the way he broke up with you was humiliating enough, you could sponsor an effigy in his likeness, slap his name on it to avoid any confusion with that OTHER boyfriend … and then watch it blow up into smithereens.

See? I think there is something positive in that. Let it all out. Then move on. And probably much cheaper than cutting up all his dress shirts or torching his motorcycle.

As has been known to happen.

The thing is though, the effigies today don’t seem to stand in for anyone in particular. They have funny faces and outlandish clothes but really — with the exception of the giant flamingo that literally went down in flames — they could be anyone. Well, a few had horns. So we know they were meant to be nasty characters.

And one of the last ones was dressed in the Elvis Presley White-Wing Jumpsuit from 1970 — but isn’t that a long time to hold a grudge? And putting horns on Elvis is really kicking a guy when he’s down. It did explode really really well. Kind of like the original.

(Just as a side note: During the slow season, I plan to dedicate myself to memorizing the names and descriptions of all 68 jumpsuits that Elvis wore on stage between 1970 and 1976.)

In the absence of specific effigians, I found it comforting to project some of the worst of the worst onto the figures as they were hoisted into the air for their twirling dance of doom — once to the left, pause, once to the right, pause, once-more to the right, long pause … KA-BLOOM! Body parts and confetti flying and floating everywhere.

To roars of approval and applause. This audience knows art when it sees it.

So, some were easy. One really looked like Jared Kushner. The pear-shaped flamingo looked a little like Marjorie Taylor Greene. I’m sure that one in the blue suit was meant to be Stephen Miller before he shaved his head and stopped cloaking his Neo-Nazi affinities.

There were others. If you squinted, one looked like Stephen Bannon. Another might have been a youngish Rudy Giuliani. And that one! Elon Musk for sure! And my last newspaper editor. I’m sure there was one of him. The same fake smile and bloodshot beady eyes.

See? It is easy! And fun! And nobody gets hurt (usually). You feel better at the end of the hour and somebody else cleans up all the paper body parts. No CSI unit knocking on your door.

I’m thinking of the woman who recently went ballistic in a local coffee shop and started knocking over displays during her tirade. Perhaps if she’d bought an effigy of an innocent barista saying, “I’m sorry, we don’t have decaffeinated coffee,” then perhaps it wouldn’t be her video that is blowing up on the Internet. If you see what I mean.

The kids and a surprisingly large number of adults take home arms, legs, torsos, and heads — especially the heads. Organizers were selling the decapitated heads — about $200 pesos for a well-shaped devil’s face. I’m guessing a lot of the adults were thinking — art projects! Certainly not “This leg would go really nice in my living room next to the Katrina dolls …”

Next year, I’ll come more prepared, with a specific list of people I’d like to see hoisted up by their own petard, twirled about, and then sent to oblivion with a sonic boom.

Why, I wouldn’t be surprised if other people did the same.

And a few of them had my name on their list.

It could happen.