I was sitting in my study, reviewing a bit of Sartre I'd set aside years ago and contemplating one, that loneliest of numbers. All at once wrap-tap-tapping came at my chamber door -- not once, but twice it came, with a couple of affable giggles to stoke my interest. I hastened to investigate and who should I find, but pair of young birds, no more than twenty years of age -- for the purpose of this diary, however, we shall say of voting age even, to be safe. "Nevermore," they told me, for they had not forgotten all the things that they wanted, nor the many crimes of Connecticut Senator Joseph Lieberman.
I was not so concerned with their politicking. I have always been rather traditional and in fact I had planned to vote for Lieberman in the primary, provided I could do so on the way to the convenience store whenever the primary is. But so far from forgetting, this pair had reminded me of my days at my dear Alma Mater and those wild nights in the stacks with my favorite student organization.
Perhaps I've been too glib. So allow me to cut through the allusions of the introduction, which I obviously found to be so very clever, but only obscure the point. I had upon my door step two lovely young ladies campaigning or canvassing or whatever you political people call it when you knock on someone's door who was foolish enough to register a party affiliation and regale him endlessly about the virtues of one candidate or another -- in this case Ned Lamont -- beg him for money, and so forth. In the interest of fairness, I should say some woman came by wearing a Lieberman pin earlier this week and knocked at my door, but she simply wasn't as attractive as the Pushkin on my desk, so I didn't bother to invite her in for a drink as I did these two. Therefore, to be safe, perhaps we'll just say these girls were 21 and 22 respectively?
Not ones to tarry, we retired to my parlor to discuss Ned's fantastic buy one get one free donation plan and how much of this quarters' dividends I was willing to divert to their cause. But I should really describe these ladies for you, dear reader. I'll not name names, of course. The one was a fair brunette, with those slight gallic figures so reminiscent of Mary Magdalene's da Vinci Code progeny. In fact, let's call her Sophie. The other was Siamese, as I recall, or Burmese or Myanmarese or whatever they're calling it these days. We'll call her Mia. She was about as fine as wine, which was imported from Georgia. I like a good sweet wine and Eastern Europe's the only place to get it.
In the course of discussing the issues facing this great nation of ours and of course the great state of Connecticut, I learned, to my surprise, that Sophie and I shared a favorite band (Pixies) and Mia had already come to the conclusion that Israeli aggression in the Arab world was an affront to the human race. So young, yet so clever! These two had obviously been taking AP classes. Of course, it was so much easier for me, being, say, ten years older to know the only worthwhile band of the early nineties and Israel might even be easier. After all, having in my grammar school days known a Lebanese Orthodox beauty with whom I enjoyed so many biblical studies, the image of such a girl murdered by the Israelis brings my blood to a boil right quick.
In any event, my recollections of the conversation become hazier as the night wears on and so you might expect a certain rambling incoherence in my retelling. The upshot, I think, is that the three of us had a fine old time drinking, listening to a bit of Rock Music, and ... so forth. As it got dark, it occurred to me that they'd best get home, so I put on a pot of coffee, gathered up any garments I could find, and cut a generous check to Connecticut for Lamont -- looking back at the copy, I see I must have been drunker than I thought, because all I can make out of my scrawl was a big "C," an "L" and "m" "n" with some scribbles in between. Well, in any case, they're welcome to come back if they need another.
I suppose this is what I admire about sites like this one. The way it energizes young people. When I was in high school, I certainly wasn't collecting for Senate candidates. But I tell you, this youthful enthusiasm for the process is contagious. I've never felt better about doing my part. I might even find my way to volunteering myself.