Lesson of the Day:
Conversations, which start out with “So, I read your blog,” can never amount to anything good.
When I posted about Obama converts in Iowa a few weeks ago, it was to offer insight into my relationship with my Dad. The possibility of my political conversion was hinted at in jest. Only in jest. In fact, a large portion of what I write is in jest.
Had I known Barack Obama had body snatchers planted in Rogersville, I would’ve kept any disgruntlement to myself.
Unfortunately, I didn’t and, as a result, was accosted this morning by an aggressive, somewhat starry-eyed Obamamite.
After informing me that he “read my blog” Mr. C expressed a desire to speak with me about “Barack’s vision for the future and his hope for America.”
I was honestly caught off guard. I don’t encounter very many political salespeople in Hawkins County. In this neck of the woods, political discussions go more like this:
1: “Who ya votin for?”
2: “Republican Candidate X”
1: “That clown? And I wouldn’t vote for X if they were the last person on earth. I’m voting for Republican Candidate Z.”
This fellow, on the other hand, was smiling serenely and offering me an Obama bumper sticker.
So, I said, “Go away. Shoo. It’s 8AM. I don’t do political visions until I’ve had more caffeine and maybe a couple shots of tequila.”
“I gather from reading your blog you feel the same way many Americans do,” he explained, “We want fresh, new leadership. We want change. We need it,” he asserted, “Barack Obama can provide this change. I assume your family probably supports his campaign…”
I knew what he meant and was instantly pissed off:
“Mr. C, I don’t want to be rude – but why would you assume we’d support Obama? Because he is a melanin match? Pshaw! My husband is Republican, and he can’t dance. Go figure. Furthermore, fresh and new translates to inexperienced and naive to me. While this might appeal to some voters, as a general rule, I’m not into unproven visionaries. They tend to get expensive. Not to mention, his views on foreign policy are downright girly. So, please keep your bumper sticker because this ain’t happening. ”
“Why do you think his views on foreign policy are girly?” Mr. C asked.
“Did you read Obama’s official statement on foreign policy? You saw the part about being friendly to all foreign leaders and having fireside chats with the American people?”
“Well, he left out the part where he invites Mahmoud Ahmadinejad and Hu Jinta over to the White House to bake cookies, braid each others hair and dance around the Oval Office in their PJs while they lip sync to Hannah Montana.”
“I take it you disapprove of diplomacy? What’s your ideal foreign policy then?” Mr. C. continued.
“My idea? Oh, that ould be – OH YEAH! not if I shoot you first. Yep, that’s pretty much it.”
And still… Mr. C. was freakishly undaunted by my rejection. He kept pushing the bumper sticker at me saying:
“Now Angie, I’m trying to be serious here. Let’s talk serious for a minute. You know this country is headed down a dangerous path. If you want this to change, if you want it to be better, you must believe it can happen. I believe it can. ”
When he pounded the table for emphasis, it hit me. This guy is a fanatic. He believes in Obama like a religion: a charismatic, snake-handling, speaking-in-tongues, faith-healing kind of religion. I mean – what do they do to these people? Baptize `em when they sign up for email updates? Send `em special mind-altering cult koolaid?
All this time I thought the Ron Paul Revolution people were the crazies. Could it be the Obamamites are slightly tetched too?
So, I decided to fight fire with fire.
“Mr. C,” I said, “Obama is telling people what they want to hear – because this is all a part of the plan, mastered-minded by Bin Laden’s American cousin Bin Bubba. Obama has been assigned to destroy the US. I talked to the preacher of my cult about this, and he says Obama is secretly Muslim and plays a pivotal role in ushering in the end times. Now, I normally don’t buy into that stuff – but the pastor, you know Father Reverend Coy Gallywampus had a vision after drinking some of my tequila. It’s a Baptist cult, so this is okay – anyway, after his vision, he said we needed to start smoking out the supporters. So our Kingdom on Earth Army will know who to go after later. Now, I like you. That’s why I’m telling this – but if you don’t put away the bumper sticker and change the subject, I will be forced to give up your name. ”
Finally Mr. C. shook his head, “You’re crazy.”
“Are you insulting my religion? This has all been foretold by our great prophet, you know.”
Mr. C. grinned a little and asked, “Oh yeah, which prophet?”
“Um… er… Ted Nugent.”
FINALLY, brain-sucking Obama Body Snatcher walked away with his bumper sticker.
Later, I called Mrs. C to inform her – in the nicest way possible – her husband had flipped his lid and if he tried to give me a bumper sticker again, I might be inclined to give him some pepper spray. She chuckled and admitted he’d really gotten behind the Obama campaign. Also, according to Mrs. C, Mr. C was “absolutely distraught when he learned he had missed the voter registration deadline.”
For the record, Mr. C did pay for my coffee and said he’d be glad to sit down and discuss the issues when I could get serious. But don’t worry my friends.
He’s not even registered to vote – and I’m wearing my garlic necklace.