P,
Are you familiar with the expression, "caught with one’s pants ’round one’s ankles?" If not, you can probably guess that it is suggestive of an awkward pose; one in which not many of us care to find ourselves. Just today, however, I found myself in just such a state, which got me thinking how much I share in common with fellow Democrats these days.
I started the morning at the beauty salon for an appointment with my wax goddess, a.k.a. torture interrogator for the C.I.A. She left me abruptly mid-wax, to attend I’m almost certain, to a prisoner bound and gagged nearby. I was, needless to say, in a highly compromised position, but when a spa patron came along and peeked in upon me, I pulled myself up to full height (as tall as one can be with one’s trousers, well, you know) and looked her straight in the eye, before inquiring: "Can I help you?" She was so shocked by the encounter that she apologized meekly and exited immediately. When the errant torturer returned and I had properly humiliated her for leaving me alone, I internally applauded my composure and bravado in a terrible moment.
I think the Dems might benefit from the insight I gleaned from this very personal experience. Instead of expressing confusion and despair at our defeat, we need to hold our heads high and pretend we had planned to find ourselves here all along. As we know from the Republican ban on the display of underwear in Virginia, there’s nothing that can make ‘em squirm more than an expression of confidence. Let’s make ‘em sweat by showing them how little we care about their victory. We’re coming back and we’re not afraid to let it all hang out, no matter how humiliating that may be.
Faithfully,
C.
