A Walk in the Park with Howard Dean
Sunday afternoon was one of those fall afternoons that people read about in nostalgic novels about car rides in old Hudsons or LaSalles through New England. I needed a bowl of clam chowder and a mug of tomato soup. I went walking through the park and enjoyed the rain of red and orange leaves about me, the games of touch football I observed, and the bite of the chilly wind on my cheek. I also laughed at the taunting of the Bush supporter who laughed at me.
In digging through my closet for a sweatshirt to wear on my walk, I came across an old, (2003?), navy blue pullover with the words “Howard Dean for America” emblazoned across the front. I was feeling rather obnoxious and rebellious, so I decided to wear it. I should have expected something to happen, but not something as irrational as what did occur.
I was walking past a picnic when a man looked at me and spoke up. He had a goatee, not one of those sophisticated ones that wine experts wear, but the kind that in my state are usually worn by meth-addict construction workers and evangelical Christians. With a sort of Neaderthal chuckle, he pointed to my Howard Dean sweatshirt and declared, “We sure kicked his ass!”
I was curious and I had to ask, hoping against hope that the moron actually had a few working synapses. “Who kicked his ass?”
“Dubya!” the cretin replied proudly.
I walked on, realizing it was fruitless to point out to him that Dean was defeated in the race for the Democratic nomination and that it was John Kerry who lost by two points to “Dubya.” I doubt he would have understood anything I said. Now that the President’s approval ratings are down in the thirties, this, apparently, is what his support has been reduced to.
Can the country survive until 2008?
