Coming out of Boca Chica on St. Paul's West Side Sunday night I was confronted with a flyer heralding the news that has driven Democratic activists to frenzy with anticipation. What's that you say? Massive tax increases? Worldwide capitulation to socialist tyranny? Abortion on demand for all? Abortion on demand for some and little rainbow flags for others?
Not exactly. But in a sense, yes. Because ... he .... is .... coming.
Dennis Kucinich, live and in-person at Central High School in St. Paul. Which is not in my neighborhood, but it's close enough for me consider attending.
It is on a Saturday night, meaning I'd have to postpone a number of social obligations (which makes my appearance unlikely--'cause I can't disappoint the ladies.) Plus I'd be concerned about the safety of someone like me in such an environment. And no, I don't mean being intellectually skewered by a Kucinichian thrust of logic. Instead, I'm concerned about heading into the area around Central High School without an armed escort. It is a public school after all.
If I do attend, it would give me a chance to pick up a Kucinich 2004 t-shirt, which could score me some points next time I'm at a Hoobastank concert. But besides that, what would be the point of me attending this rally? Simply getting more fodder with which to ridicule this poor bastard?
Right now I find myself torn between the Elder's poignant tribute to the co-worker who never had anything bad to say about anybody and JB Doubtless's savage attack on Joe Biden. Once again, I feel like the child born of these two fathers (which come to think of it sounds like a concept Dennis Kucinich would support).
How's this for a compromise, I attend, but I agree to only make fun of his hairpiece? Given its severely inanimate condition, doesn't that count as not really saying anything bad about anybody?
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