I applaud Boston’s young conservatives.
Thanks to a gentlemanly invitation from Rich Wheeler at the Massachusetts
Federation of Young Republicans, I watched this past night’s debate with a herd
of Alex P. Keatons at The Place outside Faneuil Hall. And while I expected to
find a rowdy bunch of politically intolerant yuppies, they weren’t rowdy
Maybe the black men
in the adjoining barroom inspired the mild temperament. Or maybe the
conservatives on hand were uncomfortable jeering around my scruffy beard and tattooed
forearms. Whatever the reason – I’ve seen more excitement in infomercial
The truth is
that I wanted them to scream “Nobama,” and to shout that the distinguished
gentleman from Illinois
is Al Qaeda in disguise. Not just so I could report it back to Phoenix
readers, but so I could justify the brutal vengeance with which I witnessed
liberals watch the first three debates. Even though we know better, I wouldn’t
have been surprised if someone torched a Sarah Palin effigy in Harvard Square two
If the purpose
of their silence was to not give me – and the Fox 25 chick in the house – negativity
to draw on, then they succeeded. But if they wanted to showcase how excited
they are about candidate cadaver, then they failed hideously. Even I wanted to
lambaste Obama for dodging questions about taxes and abortion, but I contained
myself to avoid puncturing the mood.
I’m aware that
conservatives enjoy complaining about how much hell they catch for having
righteous convictions; I’m actually a Rush Limbaugh fan, as I genuinely enjoy hearing
financially bloated cuff-link types allege that life is rigged against them.
But Boston Republicans are true martyrs; even Beantown-bound Yankees fans can’t
understand their pain. I always knew this, but, until I temporarily became the
minority within their minority, I didn’t realize how lonely they must be.