Sunday morning phone call. I really hate those. I was sitting out on the back porch, steaming cup of coffee at hand, and the sun rising over the Piedmont hills to my east. Beautiful day ahead. Then the phone call. I recognized the number. We’ll call him Frank.
“Alton, this ain’t going to happen again,” were the first words I heard. “Do you realize… Sorry. I’ll wait ’till we meet to do my whining. I’m leaving here now, five – five and a half hours I’ll be in Henry County. Let’s meet at Clyde’s about 3:00pm.”
“OK Frank, I’ll see you there. First drink is on me.”
“You’re damn right it’s on you, and a hot dog too. This was cruel and unusual punishment you put me through.”
Clyde welcomed me in as I sat at the bar. “Hey Bunkie, where you been the last few days?”
“I’ve been writing Clyde, but today I gotta meet Deep Throat here at three.”
“Deep Throat? You mean that broad from” I cut him off.
“No. My informant. Woodward and Bernstein had an informant they called Deep Throat so they wouldn’t have to use his real name. I got me one too. I send him to various Democrat events and he reports back to me.”
“Who do you think you are, John D. McDonald or something? I know you call yourself a writer, but really now. This?”
Before I could answer ‘Frank’ came through the door.
“DT, tell me what happened.” I said as he sat at the bar beside me.
“First I’m going to tell you what ain’t going to happen again.” He said, his enunciation clearer than I’ve ever heard him.
“Local unit meetings, fine. I’ll still do those, they’re usually an hour or so. Fundraiser picnics and barbecues, at least I get to eat. Sometimes there’s even beer. But I’ve been to my first, only and last Democrat Convention. You can’t pay me enough.
“By the time I left there last night my eyeballs were bleeding and my teeth itched.”
“Tell me what happened, DT.”
“Can we come up with another name for me? Hell, you and Clyde both know who I am. Anyway, I sat through hours and hours of Democrat speeches. Very little substance, but lots and lots of style. Very little truth either. Don’t get me wrong, no outright lies I don’t think, just no outright truth either.
“Terry McAuliffe said Democrats should never lose an election based on their record, so I guess he meant they would run on everything but their record. Now that Ol’ Terry is toeing the Democrat line he got a great reception. Those around me told me that wasn’t the case in 2009.
“Donald McEachin, (is he really a state Senator?), said our new budget was as close to a Democrat budget as he could make it. Really?
“He claimed ‘transvaginal ultrasound’ was a new word. Hey, even I know it’s two words. And Planned Parenthood has insisted on doin’ it for years. You and the Planned Parenthood website taught me that Bunkie. The Roanoke Times has never mentioned it. Forget the Martinsville Bulletin. If Ginny Wray don’t want it printed, it ain’t printed. You know that.
“As bad as all the speeches were, the organization was even worse. Who rents a hall for a complicated thing like a convention knowing you have to get out at 2:00 in the afternoon?
“And get this, they nominated a guy named, are you ready? George Wallace. Isn’t he a segregationist Democrat Governor from Mississippi?”
I replied, “Was. He died in the late 90s. From Alabama. Got shot in the early 70s, spent the rest of his time in a wheelchair.”
“The only other interesting thing was this fat, whiny kid, who finished dead last and moved to elect Wallace by acclimation so he could appeal later. That might be interesting, but I ain’t going and you can’t make me.”
