Tom stepped clear of the ditch and wiped the sweat out of his eyes. "You hear what that paper said 'bout agitators up north a Bakersfiel'?" "Sure," said Wilkie. "They do that all a time." "Well, I was there. They wasn't no agitators. What they call reds. What the hell is these reds anyways?"
I can’t wait for Republicans to run ads with the hammer and sickle. I bet Bernie feels the same. I expect he is prepared for it as he has been with all the petty chicken shit attacks that have come at him so far from Team Third Way.
Timothy scraped a little hill level in the bottom of the ditch. The sun made his white bristle beard shine. "They's a lot of fellas wanta know what reds is." He laughed. "One of our boys foun' out." He patted the piled earth gently with his shovel. "Fella named Hines—got 'bout thirty thousand acres, peaches and grapes—got a cannery an' a winery. Well, he's all a time talkin' about 'them goddamn reds.' 'Goddamn reds is drivin' the country to ruin,' he says, an' 'We got to drive these here red bastards out.'
I expect the Red Baiting from Trump, et al. Its to be expected, and worse. I expected it from the Third Way dead enders as well. We will be ready and we will have Bernie’s back. The Democratic Party is going to reclaim its mission as a stalwart defender of working class America, and price of reclaiming it won’t be cheap.
Well, they were a young fella jus' come out west here, an' he's listenin' one day. He kinda scratched his head an' he says, 'Mr. Hines, I ain't been here long. What is these goddamn reds?' Well, sir, Hines says, 'A red is any son-of-a-bitch that wants thirty cents an hour when we're payin' twenty-five!' Well, this young fella he thinks about her, an' he scratches his head, an' he says, 'Well, Jesus, Mr. Hines. I ain't a son-of-abitch, but if that's what a red is—why, I want thirty cents an hour. Ever'body does. Hell, Mr. Hines, we're all reds.'"
That is where we are. We are all Reds. Teachers, Fire Fighters, Nurses, Electricians, Machinists, Lawyers, Musicians, Store Clerks, and Ditch Diggers. We are the ones who Make America Great...again and again and again, all day, every day.
What you are missing Senator McCaskill, is that this attack will no longer work. We are beyond that now.
...and in the eyes of the people there is the failure; and in the eyes of the hungry there is a growing wrath. In the souls of the people the grapes of wrath are filling and growing heavy, growing heavy for the vintage.
The Grapes of Wrath, John Steinbeck