Fritz and Me, Part II

Fritz and Me, Part II - In other words, it was the golden age of the DFL. The party of measured
decay, the party whose prescription is long-term palliative care for a society
gone terminal. The hospice party.

The party for people, and societies, that had chosen to make a slow death
more bearable.

Four years later, when Ronald Reagan snapped the nation out of its' hypochondria,
I'd converted; a strong dose of O'Rourke and Solzhenitzyn and Johnson had
gotten me in tune with the rest of the country. We'd gotten our asses off
the cultural couch, started running again, lost some weight, started socializing.
We felt twenty years younger.

And Walter Mondale, looking like he'd come up from the Lutheran church basement,
scolded us; "That backache you feel? Could be cancer! Take your metamucil
and get back to bed!".

It was 20 years ago, but I can still remember how depressing it all was.
And Mondale brings it all back. I don't EVER want my children to have
to experience that.

Mondale's a credit to this state. We could do worse in a Senator, truth
be told (and, indeed, with Mark Dayton we ARE). But he represents the lowest
ebb of this nation's history (IMHAAHO) - an era which the DFL apotheosizes;
an era of big, sixties-style statements combined with feeble, sickly seventies-era
application. So while we could do worse - we can also do better.

So I'm not just voting for Norm Coleman. I'm voting AGAINST the Seventies;
against malaise; against submission; against the inward-turning, inward-feeding
angst that ate this nation's guts out 25 years ago.

I'm choosing life.