It’s the day after the Iowa Caucus. Memphis Earlene, Latte Woman and I are sitting on the Virtual Verandah with our beverages of choice (Southern Comfort, Triple Soy Mocha, and flat Coke Zero, respectively) parsing the results.
“Best possible outcome,” I say. “Bernie and Hillary tied. Trump lost.”
“Ted Cruz won. Like there’s some difference?” says Memphis Earlene.
All white guys running for President look alike to Memphis Earlene. Even Bernie Sanders. Put them in a police line up she wouldn’t know the difference. And all those Republicans sound alike, namely ignorant on purpose.
“Can I get some love here for Hillary?” I ask.
Silence. Uncomfortable, because it reminds me how many people think it won’t matter to them who gets elected so they won’t vote.
Hitler came to power on a close election.
“Grudging affection, maybe,” Latte Woman concedes.
Latte Woman, like me, is a Yellow Dog Democrat. If Jesus was running for President on the Republican ticket against a yellow lab Democrat, she’d vote for the dog . This doesn’t change the fact that she’s not happy with the available choices.
Too many went to Harvard. They all go to Church, except Bernie.
“No one who expects to be raptured should be making foreign policy decisions,” Latte Woman says. “I want big decisions made by people who think this is the only world we’ve got and want to pass it on to their grandchildren.”
“Other eligibility requirements?” I ask.
She’s got a little list.
“ Everyone has to have gone to public school or been in the Army. Quotas for lawyers, and no one who made Law Review. ”
No more reserved parking.
NO more flying Business Class.
If you want to run for President you fly steerage like the rest of us.
“This isn’t practical,” I tell Latte Woman. “You can’t expect the Secret Service to sit in steerage.”
Memphis Earlene is rapidly losing interest.
“Shit rolls down hill, no getting around it, no matter who’s elected, ” she says. “And if I want to watch a horse race I’ll go to the track.”
Unlike me, Memphis Earlene did not major in American Studies. In order to convince her that this election matters I’d have to be a Charismatic Civics Teacher.
Like the ones I had in high school. Or Elizabeth Warren.
To be continued, I expect.