I hate listening to Republicans talking to each other. I especially despise it when they start talking about me; making assumptions about me, a pathetic liberal.
In a cafe this morning two retired balding white-haired businessmen are having a discussion about me, that is, misguided idealists who voted for Obama. We have now learned our lesson, I find out. This is their assumption, that we now hate Obama.
“Come November we’ll send the Socialist back to Kenya.”
I feel it is alright for me to join in the conversation. I too have white hair and most of it has fallen out. I check my blood sugar in the morning, I take Plavix. They have assumed I am one of them. But I have been pushed over the edge and I start talking, raising my voice as I go along.
“If Obama was born in Kenya we still would have elected him President. And if he was born in Kenya he would still be reelected for a second term. And in 2016 I want to vote for Michelle Obama. And after that I want to vote for Malia, and then for Sasha. Sixty years of Obamas, and at the end of that time no one will know what the Republican Party was. People will say, what was that Republican Party? I don’t know, have to google it.”