…continued

A natty-dreaded, overweight honkie lingered at the door like patchouli in some stoner’s gaucho. I hold my breath all the same.

Pamphleteers stand at the ready in the foyer. “Not In My Name!” announces the future litter. The spartan layout reveals 45 to 60 extremely white people huddled around one 35″ tv with a poor reception. Curious King Goerge, Arch-Monkey of Midland was well underway and as predictable as the failure of his elocution, so followed the ripples of laughter throughout the room.

Between the Idiot Chimp Lord’s banana-tongued calls for freedom across the Middle East, one of the Illuminati declare – “Oh, you mean like Palestine?!?!” Nodding approvals from the jew-hating gallery. You tell ‘em, fatty.

I find a spot at the bar and survey the selection. Belhaven Scottish, Abita Amber, Abita Turbodog, Clausthaler Amber, Flying Dog, Genesee Cream Ale, Harpoon IPA, Harpoon UFO, Sierra Nevada Pale…my, my, my. It seems the liberals are daisies for some fancy suds.

“I’ll take a Newcastle.”

Surely a safe choice. Not too frou-frou, not too bourgeois.

From over my shoulder, four elders surrounded a desktop computer in the bar’s adjoining office. The page beams with Democratic logos, then – a voice from behind. A Beer Hall Putsch.

Bartender: What’ll ya have?

Unseen patron: A PBR.

A PBR? I’ve overplayed my hand so soon. A rookie mistake. This Newcastle in my hand was attracting more glares than the high-shine on the Doc Martens of the womyn next to me.

Don’t look at me!

A tactical error to be sure. These neo-urban sophisticates are co-opting my steel shucking granddad’s brand. Progressive Popeyes to my British Brutus. Armcurling 12 fluid ounces of canned proletarian credibility.

But pReznit Probiscus hoo-hoo-hoo-ah-ahs on:

No one can deny the success of freedom, but some men rage and fight against it.

“Like you!”, shouted the rabble.

And one of the main sources of reaction and opposition is radical Islam — the perversion by a few of a noble faith into an ideology of terror and death.

Like you!

Terrorists like bin Laden are serious about mass murder — and all of us must take their declared intentions seriously. They seek to impose a heartless system of totalitarian control throughout the Middle East, and arm themselves with weapons of mass murder.

LIKE YOU!!!

Despite the dour faces and angry renunciations of our Northeastern transplants and grassroots gadflies or the impotent middle fingers waving at an indifferent television screen, it was defeat in their eyes that I longed to see. Recognition that they had been bested and that the ashes in their mouth would only be washed away by waters of reason and reflection. No such luck. Although some would prefer to cover their faces, the shame of the modern day Dim-O-Crack™ bears a stain that no amount of sequined paisley can hide.

By the end of the speech, the diet cokes were wearing off and it was beddy bye time for our Weeknight Warriors. From my observations, they were a cheap and thrifty drunk. Sloven frames dejected and making for the street. Before Tim Kaine could raise that one eyebrow of his and give the Democratic rebuttal, the joint was already half cleared out – as if someone had announced an impromptu antique sale and they were all invited.

An elderly fellow who claimed that he worked for USA Today solicited two women, not for sex, but for their opinions of the speech.

Both choices would have been equally worthless in my book.

DON’T MISS PART ONE!

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