The elections gave me hope. Voters are out there and they are paying attention. Betrayal is a funny thing, it cuts deep. When you promise to restore trust and dignity to the presidency - and while I adore Bill Clinton, I don't often use dignity in the same sentence - and then you lie about almost everything, well that betrayal starts seeping into pores.
Karl Rove wanted a conservative agenda out there. He searched for a candidate who could get elected. George W. Bush to the plate. Okay, he was an alcoholic failure, but he had that name. Clean him up, get him to church, pump him full of stump speeches, and get him governor of Texas. How hard is that? They don't mind failures, if they come from rich families. Part of the folklore. The rest is easy.
The Christian right was aching for a candidate with backing. Organize them, and denounce abortion and gay rights, count red state electoral votes and badda bing, ya got a viable candidate. (And it sure doesn't hurt that Daddy knows just everybody who ever won an election and your very own brother is Gov of a hell of lot of electoral votes.)
I read today that Karl and Dubya have been together 32 years. (Eeeuuuww, how gross is that...) This has been a steady march to power. Picking up Cheney and Rumsfeld, hell, that was just a side issue, might as well suck up some oil profits while you're at it.
I wish I weren't so cynical. I want to believe that they had a real plan, even if I disagreed with it. But they don't, they haven't a clue. Clueless in Washington. Okay, that's an oxymoron.
But just as I was wallowing in these thoughts of despair along comes first, Howard Dean - a bit noisy, sure, but hey he tells it like it is. Music to my ears. The Moveon.org spewed it all about and I knew I wasn't alone! Then watching Patrick J. Fitzgerald on TV I was practically cheering. Calvary to the rescue! We are saved! The Dems have finally gotten some gumption, they may actually put together a plan. Finally!
I burrowed down deep when Bush was elected. It simply hurt too much. The anger was too much. I had to turn it all off to survive. Body blows need time to heal.
Now, where's my horse? I'm off to do battle! (A war of words, not of fallen soldiers. I hate them for taking sons and daughters, husbands and wives, and calling it patriotism when greed is more accurate. Our soldiers deserve better leaders.)