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The
cow at the stoplight is giving me a look.
The thing is, I recognize it—not this cow,
but the look she is giving me.
It is that doltish stare of vague unease and
bewilderment. I
have seen it before. Virginia
Republicans have two looks these days:
Either the one this cow is exhibiting, or
that fierce, clenched-jaw look of determination and
survival, that Zell Miller look you see on the news
when folks are filmed climbing out of the wreckage
of hurricanes.
She
is a big black and white
Holstein. A beautiful, high dollar
animal. We are
locked in a stare-down at one of Patrick
County’s
four stoplights. I
guess it is some of that wretched growth you read
about in Northern
Virginia.
Not so long ago we didn’t have stoplights
here. Who
needs lights when time itself is stopped?
The
stock trailer is so small and this cow so big, that
she has to hang her head out of the back of it.
She is definitely giving me that Republican
look. I am
wondering what she is thinking.
She appears to be… well… just wondering.
Perhaps
she wonders about Morgan Griffith’s math, his
understanding of the numbers in the House of
Delegates. They
had a little “glad-you’re-staying” soiree for
Joe May somewhere upstate the other day—May, one
of the brightest bulbs in the GOP marquee, is
dropping his bid for statewide glory and will try to
keep his House seat—and Griffith was there to lay
it on pretty thick for him. “I wish we had a hundred Joe Mays in the
House,”
Griffith
said.
Umm-hmm.
Morgan, that would mean you wouldn’t be
there. A lot
of us wish that.
Speaker
Bill Howell was at May’s little shindig. Perhaps this big
Holstein
is wondering about him. Said
he this week of Virginia’s GOP affairs in general:
“We are a team. We are united.”
Umm-hmm.
That’s why it is going to take something
pamphlet-sized just to print the Republican ballot
for the spring primary.
Forget about a bus.
It’ll take Amtrak to haul the “united”
Republican candidates.
This “team” unity is the same reason
Jerry Kilgore has to hold a press conference to say
the GOP is behind him.
Maybe
this brute trying to stare me down is wondering
about this first poll that’s out.
Maybe she’s running the numbers I have run.
Kilgore has spent $46,689.15 per point for
the 46 points he polls.
That makes Russ Potts’ six points worth
$280,000. That’s
what Republican reaction to his campaign has been
worth to him. How
else do you explain even six points for a man just
two weeks in the race, a man with no name
recognition, no money raised, no money spent?
You don’t believe that?
Then where is George Fitch?
Where is his six points in all of this?
Or
it could be this cow is wondering about Kilgore,
wondering about that lame “fake Kaine memo”
stunt his campaign pulled this week.
What’s next, Jerry?
Whoopee cushions?
Hand buzzers? Those
little trick lapel flowers that squirt water in your
face? Think
about hiring my cat to write the stand-up stuff for
you from here on out.
Sammy’s
not much, but, hey, he’s better than
anything you’ve got.
Works cheap, too.
He’ll cut all kinds of shines for a bowl of
milk now and then. At
the very least, Jerry, don’t sign off on stupid
stuff like this again.
At least keep somebody you can fire in front
of you on stuff like this.
Just
then, inexplicably, I look away for one split
second. But
that’s all it takes.
When I look back, this cow belches up a wad
of cud and begins to chew contentedly.
If cows can smile, this one does.
She knows that she has bested me in our
stare-down. Just
as well. The
light changes and we part company.
--
March 28, 2005
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