While Sarah Palin in her snow-leopard coat and grizzly bear Davy Crockett hat sows the Gospel of Id far and wide and McCain fans the flames of assassination and racism, it has occurred to me that the last and greatest hope for humankind’s existence as we know it to continue, we should, pace WWF and its ilk, do nothing but work for Barack Obama until every vote for him is counted, and there will be millions, enough to startle even Warren Buffet.
Obama’s system for preserving the most endangered species of all, us, is exquisite. I am so impressed by the networking—instead of killing ourselves with canvassing (funny, I’ve seen no canvassers at Dupont Circle lately), we receive lists of Moveon members in swing states. We can be fairly sure that they will be friendly and not hang up on us since they’re moveon people. And the kids are doing it like a cyclone-blizzard, God bless’em, as the Adversary would say, you betcha (that’s old by now—sorry).
This dedicated system has registered so many new voters that the election boards and overseers fear inundation, Ohio 2004 writ large. In a few intelligent states, people are already voting—the figure in one is 30 percent. Many of that silent doormat, the 100 million indifferent voting-aged population, have emerged like sleeping giants suddenly aware of the power they have . . to save the world.
And like his system, Obama is rising as McCain falls. He is calm, like Neptune rising from a tranquil sea to comfort Venus. “Life will go on, Root of it all. And I’ll make sure it does. Trust me.”
So let us move on to better days by working with Moveon. I see no overlap, as there was in 2004, with members of the Democratic party duplicating efforts of Moveon to the extent that stalwart liberals were threatening to boycott the polls if they received one more phone call.
That’s when I knocked on their doors. One with a sign that read “Republicans for Kerry.” Another where the man said I’ve had enough of you . So I said o.k. and walked out and he ran after me pleadingly to say that he couldn’t stand the concept of abortion, especially in the third term of pregnancy. ‘Nuff said. He was a nice guy.
Then there was a loudmouth who opened her door (why open it if she wanted no part of us?) to announce loudly her allegiance to the anti-choice persuasion. Only she called it pro-life. Not yet a DC Dem, still part of the swinging swing state of PA, I asked her how many crack babies from DC she wanted to adopt. She said she would and slammed the door. Down the block a younger woman threatened to unleash her twin pit bulls on me—they were running around salivating. But she at the same time seemed curiously supportive. For this reason I walked alongside her calmly, awaiting death if my number was up. The pit bulls remained restrained from my middle-aged flesh.
Then at the foot of her driveway she yelled, “This is a stinking lousy world we live in!!!” Obviously a mouthpiece for her neighbor. So I did not send the adoption agency over to interview her. She probably owns a gun.
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