When I drop in the other night at the Liquor and Rubber Bars Sports Cafe and Paycheck Advance Store, Don Tequila stands behind the bar like a man on guard. The conversation has become heated, and the conversationalists inebriated. The incidental fact that they’re all women (LRBs caters to mostly Lesbian sports fans) does not in the slightest reduce the potential for severe damage to life and property. On the contrary.
I take a seat in Don Tequila’s enormous shadow where I can safely observe.
“It’s fuckin theater is all it is,” says Rye on the Rocks with disdain. “Old fart couldn’t find a clue up his own ass with a 100 watt butt plug, so he pulls this ‘Now we have to stop campaigning and get together as Americans’ act. How fuckin dumb you gotta be to fall for this?”
“It’s called ‘Leadership’,” retorts Four Roses. “You don’t get it and neither does your favorite little demigod. The country is on the brink of economic collapse and everybody needs to understand how serious this is.”
This draws hoots of derision.
“So where’s the Moose Lady while this is going on, if it’s so damn important?” snarls a beer drinker down the bar a bit. “Looking pretty for Henry Kissinger? Sure hope she wasn’t breastfeeding the retard while she was in with him — the poor old shit might have stroked out.”
(That’s about as nasty a remark as I’ve ever heard, but it’s early yet.)
“These people are desperate,” Rye goes on. “Tellya what I think this is all about. They’re trying it on that maybe if they get everybody as fired up scared as they did after 911, they’ll be able to pull whatever they damn want. Like maybe postponing the whole damn election. Change the rules. Leave the smirking chimp in another year or so.”
“You’re fuckin nuts,” snorts Some Unidentified Tall Bluish Green Cocktail. Not KoolAid, I hope. “Why can’t you take this on face value? It’s a man who spent his whole life serving his country, doing what he thinks is best, no matter what. This time, this is what he thinks is best . That’s all!”
“Yeah, right? So, he hauls balls to Washington so he can vote the way Bush wants on this like he did 90% of every other vote he ever cast? GoWaannnn.”
“Hey, the old fart needs his wife to do his email for him! You expect him to multi-task? Like, think about campaigning and the bailout at the same time?”
It actually heads downhill from here, and even more 1-sided. I hear glass break somewhere which dispatches a grim Don Tequila, teeth clenched. I grab my Guinness and ease on back to the wall where I can see the ball game and hear myself think.
And what I think is, When are we going to grow up as an electorate and concentrate on what’s important? When does the Silly Season, where bullshit like lapel pins, a candidate’s religion, flag burning, guilt by association, exaggerated resumes, media bashing, and all the crap you can unwrap, finally come to an end? There’s a war on — two actually, maybe more — people are losing their jobs, savings, and houses; there’s out of control crime in the streets; our schools are filled with relgious lunatics teaching morons…..
Don’t blame me, I voted for Nader. Guido, drop the blade! I didn’t mean it!