It’s All in the Frasing
My son The Actor and I were driving today in our little northwest Georgia community where political campaign signs have sprouted like wild onion clumps along the roadsides.
“Would you look at that?” said The Actor as we drove by some garish gold, blue and red signs in a row.
Distracted by my conversation with his sister Cupcake, I just nodded. This did not satisfy The Actor. We are people who hold multiple conversations and interrupt each other like pundits on Hardball.
“Mom! Did you see that?” The Actor insisted.
“See what?” I huffed.
“That sign. It said faith, family, freedom,” he nearly shouted at me. We’re a tad excitable, too.
“Well , if it says faith, family, freedom, his name must be Mike Fuckabee instead of Mike Huckabee, dontcha think?”
Faith. Family. Freedom?
That shit might play here in Georgia. I associate in the meatworld with people who will lap that pablum up. I mean, I have regular contact with people who wear tee shirts with Jesus slogans emblazoned across them and skip on their taxes. Natch, they’re Republicans. They are going to love Fuckabee’s social conservatism, but what will they think of his fiscal policies?
Dang it. I should have attended one of their churches this morning so that I could see what marching orders the local ministers are giving. These folks are organized, if nothing else.
I guess I’ll find out on Tuesday what my local community thinks of Fuckabee, won’t I?