The American Spectator

p>My favorite Republican drives around town listening to country music and crying. Wendy Wakeman, the former chair of our board of selectmen and an experienced, tough political cookie, doesn’t mind admitting it. She also pounds on the steering wheel and sings along with her favorite raucous tunes, like Alan Jackson’s “It’s Five o’Clock Somewhere.” br> /p> blockquote>Pour me something tall and strong, br> Make it a hurricane before I go insane. br> It’s only half past twelve but I don’t care… br> It’s five o’clock somewhere. /blockquote> br> When I’m fed up with news and talk and politics, and it does happen, I switch over to one of our two New England country stations in this area and catch up on what’s happening in the real world. Wendy and I swap favorites. With “It’s Five o’Clock Somewhere,” as with so many other good songs, it’s not so much the catchy chorus that grabs our attention as the razor-clean look at life in the verses: br> blockquote>The sun is hot and that old clock is moving slow, br> and so am I. br> The workday passes like molasses in winter time, br> but it’s July br> I’m getting paid by the hour and older by the minute,