Saturday, April 08, 2006
The Meeting
In a former life I ran the political desk, empty when I wasn't there, of a string of shoppers published by a wealthy plumber. As silly as it sounds, I garnered a lot of readers and almost as many angry phone calls.
My comments were unabashedly Left, and I was frequently scolded by Max, the editor. For not being enough of a fire-breather! His own liberal passion had earned him a set of corroded and leaking pipes.
That's the background. Imagine my surprise...well don't then...when I was invited by a prominent Republican to a meeting to set out priorities and explain the movement that would shortly take over the government lock, stock, and barrel-ass. That sophomoric last, lame jab shows I can't help myself.
“But what do you want me for?”
“We want you to try to understand. Everything will take on our cast and soon! Come and listen. We have our professors too.
I want you to see an intellectual fiber under this change of power. An actual idealism.”
“I sincerely doubt that, but I'll come.”
And became completely surprised at thoughtful speeches and discussions.
My eventual copy for the papers? Even-handed. But Max's headline asserted GREED FINDS ITS PHILOSOPHERS.
Back to the confab, and my finally being asked to leave.
“At the end, however gratifying your presence has been,
there's always nuts and bolts. I'm sure you understand.”
I departed to a universal smile. Reminded me of an especially friendly church.
Down the stairs to the exit, deafened by one screaming man who was answered again and again by the whole assembly. That urinous stairway rang and shook with this cheerleading. Nothing wrong with rallying the troops.
Years later I met my host and asked him about it.
“Well one guy stood up and shrieked repeatedly “What'll we fuckin' do NOW?”
“The response?”
“Steal, Baby, steal!”
“That's been the mantra all right.”
“Out of power a long time, so a lot got pent up.
Therefore, we party theoreticians have been overwhelmed. But we're coming back. Returning things to a moral basis.”
“I don't buy that. My old editor wouldn't give you guys a millimeter! And God, or Marx, rest his soul, he's been vindicated.”
“That's a short-term word.”
“You're losing this next time. Could be a nadir
for Republicans!”
“We'll be back. Without the zealots and thieves.”
“How can you tell them apart?”
“Academic. We're planning strategy now and you'd be a fool not to feel the menace!”
“Impotence, you mean.“
“We accept that as starting point. Won't run around like you guys did for so long. Fire in the convent!”
“Hey! Experts say cycles. Invite me again when you have your next triumphalist meeting. But I'll need help getting up the stairs with my walker.”
“Gloating helped to do us in. Good luck.” Though Max would never have, I gave him the last word.
In a former life I ran the political desk, empty when I wasn't there, of a string of shoppers published by a wealthy plumber. As silly as it sounds, I garnered a lot of readers and almost as many angry phone calls.
My comments were unabashedly Left, and I was frequently scolded by Max, the editor. For not being enough of a fire-breather! His own liberal passion had earned him a set of corroded and leaking pipes.
That's the background. Imagine my surprise...well don't then...when I was invited by a prominent Republican to a meeting to set out priorities and explain the movement that would shortly take over the government lock, stock, and barrel-ass. That sophomoric last, lame jab shows I can't help myself.
“But what do you want me for?”
“We want you to try to understand. Everything will take on our cast and soon! Come and listen. We have our professors too.
I want you to see an intellectual fiber under this change of power. An actual idealism.”
“I sincerely doubt that, but I'll come.”
And became completely surprised at thoughtful speeches and discussions.
My eventual copy for the papers? Even-handed. But Max's headline asserted GREED FINDS ITS PHILOSOPHERS.
Back to the confab, and my finally being asked to leave.
“At the end, however gratifying your presence has been,
there's always nuts and bolts. I'm sure you understand.”
I departed to a universal smile. Reminded me of an especially friendly church.
Down the stairs to the exit, deafened by one screaming man who was answered again and again by the whole assembly. That urinous stairway rang and shook with this cheerleading. Nothing wrong with rallying the troops.
Years later I met my host and asked him about it.
“Well one guy stood up and shrieked repeatedly “What'll we fuckin' do NOW?”
“The response?”
“Steal, Baby, steal!”
“That's been the mantra all right.”
“Out of power a long time, so a lot got pent up.
Therefore, we party theoreticians have been overwhelmed. But we're coming back. Returning things to a moral basis.”
“I don't buy that. My old editor wouldn't give you guys a millimeter! And God, or Marx, rest his soul, he's been vindicated.”
“That's a short-term word.”
“You're losing this next time. Could be a nadir
for Republicans!”
“We'll be back. Without the zealots and thieves.”
“How can you tell them apart?”
“Academic. We're planning strategy now and you'd be a fool not to feel the menace!”
“Impotence, you mean.“
“We accept that as starting point. Won't run around like you guys did for so long. Fire in the convent!”
“Hey! Experts say cycles. Invite me again when you have your next triumphalist meeting. But I'll need help getting up the stairs with my walker.”
“Gloating helped to do us in. Good luck.” Though Max would never have, I gave him the last word.
