It was his finest hour. Having surged to a bronze medal finish
in Iowa, Howyadoin’ Dean came out swinging, daring anyone to hang
the medal around his muscular neck. He ripped off his jacket and
handed it off to a volunteer intern, Tom Harkin. Then like Mick
Jagger he hijacked the only mike on the stage, and soon had the
whole place rockin’. It proved to be a lesson in geography, as
Deano, in full command of the primary battlefield, rattled off the
name of every state he expects to kerry. Girly-boy pundits who like
their politics bland, thought him friggin mad. But he wasn’t.
At this stage of the election cycle Dr. Howard Dean indisputably
knows the names of more American states than George W. Bush did
four years ago. Among them are New Mexico, Oklahoma, North Dakota,
Delaware, Pennsylvania, Ohio, Michigan. Just so you know he knows,
he mentioned Ohio twice. And New York. Plus he spelled Connecticut
right. And Massachusetts. And California. And Massachusetts. And
California. And Connecticut. How sweet that he who fights for
ordinary Americans is himself extraordinary.
As might have been expected, by last night all was forgiven and
everyone loved Howie again, even Diane Sawyer and Judy Steinberg.
He’s a lucky man. If this political thing doesn’t work out, there
are many headcoaching vacancies, both in the NFL and in college
ranks, not to mention overseas, in both Europe and Tikrit.
It’s harder to imagine John Kerry as a football coach. One can’t
even picture him at a football stadium, unless as a ticket-taker at
the turnstiles or a popcorn vendor in the upper-deck, a funny cap
extending the top of his head. Who’s he ever shouted at in his
life? Tom Brady? Surely not at his ultra-rich spouse, who suffers
Kerry’s presence from time to time and on her better days agrees to
regard him as a junior husband. In this setup John’s the Tom Harkin
to her Howie Dean. But it also helps explain his tax policy, which
would have him raise taxes only on those earning more than $200,000
a year. Why that figure? Because that’s the point at which she cuts
him off.
John Edwards has reportedly failed to capitalize on the generous
settlement he won in Iowa. Why is he proving coy? Terry Kerry has
affixed her image in every American voter’s heart. Now Judy Dean’s
niceness and stunning unpretentiousness is saving the day for her
chastened husband. But so far we have yet to get to know Mrs.
Edwards. What’s the problem? Only one Breck girl in the family?
Notice we’re not asking Republican deserter Wesley Clark to
introduce his missus to us. There’s only so much compassionate
conservatism to go around.
You need proof Democrats are a badly divided lot? Last night
while on patrol we tuned into C-Span radio to what we were sure is
the candidates’ debate in Manchester. Sure sounded like it. First
thing we heard was a woman speaker, in her trademark Politburo
style, praise Julian Bond’s eloquence. (He’s spoken earlier, saying
the tactics of abortion opponents would “make the Taliban blush.”)
But then she gave it all away, especially her dislike and fear of
assertive men. She attacked Rick Santorum and Sam Brownback. She
attacked the administration and accused all its white male
representatives of plotting to undo every single social and
political advance of the last 103 years. She said they’re doing so
not in the open, but behind closed doors, in secret meetings, at
undisclosed locations, inside black helicopters, at Nazi reunions
in Argentina, at Masonic temples in Montana and Michigan.
Way to go, Hillary. While calm candidates debate in collegial
fashion, you prefer to thunder before a Naral coven. Shame on you
for stealing yet another EOW pin from under the noses of Dennis
Kucinich or that weirdo Wesley. Though again you’ve reminded us
where the real debates are taking place. Behind all those closed
doors you and Bill must have had under surveillance back when the
getting was good.
