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.
