Filibuster Brown Shoes
Filibuster Brown Shoes
I’ll admit it: I love a good filibuster. Have ever since my high school days when I first saw “Mr. Smith Goes to Washington.” Now, God knows John Kerry is no Jimmy Stewart–especially when he phones in from an anti-Semitic conference in Davos, Switzerland, as Cynical Nation so aptly noted–but the prospect of one lonely David against an indifferent or hostile Goliath never fails to give me a chill. Okay, so maybe this David had his chance to defeat Goliath in 2004, and missed. Maybe he’s only got a pea-shooter now, instead of a sling. And maybe he’s only doing it to position himself as the anti-Hillary in 2008–a position even Hillary herself is trying to stake. But, dammit, didn’t he look fine staring resolutely ahead, jaw set, a stiff wind barely mussing his orderly mane. This boy stood on the burning deck whence all but he had fled and flapped hims gums to the embarrassment of all–even in Massachusetts–and that takes some guts (and skill!), I’ll tell you. I can hear the slogan now: John Kerry in ‘08, making a pain in the ass of himself for the little guy.