Saturday, March 10, 2012

Tea Party Slim (a.k.a. Snow Bird Slim) returns from Arizona early for Wyoming Republican caucuses

Face it, Tea Party Slim has the best of both worlds. He spends his winters in Arizona and summers in Wyoming.

"I should call you Snow Bird Slim," I said. Slim drove his massive RV back into town last Sunday. He parked the RV in his driveway and he and his wife Nancy were unloading their luggage. His wife looked askance at me; she did not like Slim consorting with Liberals.

"You're just jealous of us retirees," Slim said to me. "Foot loose and fancy free."

"You're early," I said. "Usually you're not back until April."

Slim hefted a suitcase in each hand. "Caucuses," he said.


"The Republican caucuses. The party is holding them early this year. We wanted to be back to cast our votes."

Slim and I have been neighbors for years. He's hardcore conservative. I'm reliably liberal. We'd never been shy about sharing our views. Our exchanges have sharpened over the two years since the Tea Party emerged from the primordial slime. He'd been gone since Halloween. I missed the big lug.

"Who are you voting for?" I asked.

He glowered. "None of your business."

"C'mon, Slim. I'll tell you who I'm voting for on the Dem side."

"No choice," he said. "You're stuck with Obama."

"Our caucuses will be boring. Not like last time. They were held this time four years ago. We had to rent the Civic Center to hold the crowds."

Slim harrumphed. "Every lily-livered, weak-kneed liberal within 50 miles crawled out from beneath their rocks for that one."

I was a bit nonplussed by Slim's words. "They arrived in droves, Slim. A few did have weak knees, but not sure about their livers."

Slim disappeared inside with his suitcases. When he reappeared, he carried two beers. "Thirsty work," he said. He handed me a beer. It was a sunny pre-spring day in Cheyenne. We drank in silence, at least for a few minutes.

"Rick Santorum has been stepping in it," I said.

"What do you mean?

"You know, all of his crazy talk about denying birth control to women."

"Churches shouldn't have to pay for birth control."

"It's not about religion," I said. "It's about health care."

"It's about religious taxpayers being asked to pay for birth control for sex-crazed feminists."

I almost choked on my suds. "Too much Rush Limbaugh, Slim."

"Rush is right," he said. "He told that college girl where to get off."

"If I'm not mistaken, both of your daughters are college graduates."

"What's that have to do with anything?"

"How would you like it if Rush called one of them a slut and a prostitute?"

"Neither of them would have testified before Congress about birth control. They're good girls. Religious."

"It's a fact that 98 percent of Catholics practice some form of birth control."

"We're not Catholics."

"Most people practice some sort of birth control. They deserve to have insurance to cover the costs."

"Fooey," he said. "I don't want to pay for a liberal feminist's birth control."

"Most people pay for their own birth control," I said. "Don't they deserve to have a choice in the free-market of health care coverage? Don't you Republicans believe in free markets? Don't you rail against Obamacare because it's that darn federal gubment interfering in our personal lives?"

Slim sipped his beer. "On Tuesday, I'm voting for Rick Santorum."

"I thought so," I said. "Next month, I'm voting for President Obama."

"I thought so," summarized Slim.

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