The Liberal sat on his couch. A Smith and Wesson Military and Police model 40 handgun sat in his hand, which was in his lap.
It's been two and a half weeks, he thought. You would think that two and a half weeks would be long enough.
Long enough to recover from the worst election in United States history. But you see, that's the thing about elections-- the event itself is just a day, but the months leading up to it are still part of the equation.
And this election-- it was an all-timer, wasn't it?
Trying to sift through the horror of the election TV ads, and the treason of the Supreme Court for allowing corporations to donate unlimited money without disclosure... what was the main reason for all of this? How did this election happen?
Was it the liberals who sat this one out? In his local area, only 30% of Democrats even bothered to vote. How are you going to win an election with a 30% turnout?
Was it 'the black guy'? The President had become so isolated, it seemed-- or was it that he was stone-walled by the media? Whichever-- he had lost that magic connection that enthralled millions, and inspired record numbers of voters to donate, and vote.
And the piranhas were waiting for him to cross the Potomac, weren't they? They slaughtered him just like a cow on a National Geographic special. Thousands of little beady-eyed neocons, all united in one common goal--all teeth trained for the kill.
Not Save America. Stop Obama.
The Liberal calmly tapped the gun against his left hand. It felt good. It had weight. It had power.
Unlike Reason. It seemed to have lost all it's power. Intellectual arguments were disdained by the masses. Even an above average vocabulary worked against you.
Yeah, if you weren't in a sweat-stained t-shirt with engine oil on your hands, you were too high and mighty for Average Joe.
Oh, and White. Sweat-stained t-shirt, oil on hands, and white.
Face it-- white people ran away from Obama this election like he was Richard Pryor on fire.
There was no discussing it. There was no defense you could offer to save Obama from the piranhas. You just had to swat that cow's ass with a stick, and watch the water bubble as it disappeared into the frothy stream.
In retrospect, maybe it all came down to one thing. The Democrats don't have a TV station.
Fox News-- "Fair and Balanced"-- showed Ohio governor candidate John Kasich 11 times on Hannity's show alone. He raised money there. He campaigned there. He won there.
They showed Ted Strickland zero times. Because that's 'fair'. That's 'balanced'.
The owner of Fox News gave millions to republicans, and all the red dogs say 'that's ok'. Because we have to make sure McDonald's tells us 100% factual information about what's in a Big Mac, but election lies-- no need to find truth there.
And now the liars are in charge. The hate ads, the manufactured quotes and statistics, the outright bigotry-- that's what the Statue of Liberty is shining its light down on now, folks.
America's ugly side, at its worst.
And though it seems it could be, that comment is not referring to John Kasich's face.
It refers to the ugly people willing to bend or break law to fit their own agenda. It refers to the laughing way they treat their bigotry, or wind up God like a puppet, and pretend He says whatever is convenient for the moment.
The Liberal looked once more at the gun in his hand. It was a living metaphor.
Does he point it at himself? End the misery? Cut short the cackles of the evil horde of half-wits that now will sing 'God and Country' while their neocon leaders rape the economy, personal freedoms, and the Constitution itself?
Or does he stand and fight?
It's time to stop licking the wounds, he thought, at last.
He decided he would become their worst nightmare.
"Yeah, I'm a Liberal," he says out loud. "Your worst nightmare, Fox News!"
"I'm a Liberal with a Gun."
Slowly, he takes the fifteen bullet clip out of the gun, and locks it back into his gun safe. He would volunteer more. He would donate more. He would watch every step the neocons took, and hold them accountable for every broken campaign promise.
He didn't need the gun right now. But when the torch and pitchfork crowd was at his door-- he would be ready.