The prez popped in for a chat today, and a sizable crowd of Bibleburgers seemed happy to see him despite the astonishing disrespect shown for the Second Amendment by his security team. Why, the only people packing heat were the heat. Imagine my astonishment. Where’s Ron Paul when you need him?
The speech itself was basic campaign boilerplate, but it went over pretty well, especially considering we’d spent about four hours broiling under an August sun while waiting to catch Obama’s act. A small army of volunteers was passing out water to the masses, though my requests for three fingers of Chamucos with a beer back went unanswered.
It was quite a crowd infesting Cutler Quad at Colorado College. Blacks, Asians, honkies and Hispanics; old, young and in between; gay, straight and in between; haves and “waiting to haves.” While waiting for the prez to crank it up we chatted with a black Vietnam vet and his German secretary, a Buddhist who sits thrice weekly with three different sanghas, and (of all things) one of Herself’s friends from elementary school back in Maryland.
If there were any pro-Romney hecklers in the bunch I didn’t hear them. It was a fine departure from the horrid discourse one reads in the public prints. Strangers were passing water to each other, sharing the few bits of shade and taking care that everyone had a chance to see the famous tyrannical Kenyan crypto-Muslim socialist usurper in the flesh so they could scope out the horns and that big 666 on his forehead.
Frankly, there’s something reassuring about seeing that many fellow travelers packed into one place like red herrings in a tin. I caught more than one person giving another that appraising glance that says, “Oho, so you’re one too, eh?” Makes it easier to keep plugging along, knowing you’re not the only round peg in a town full of square holes.