Satire is in the eye of the beholder

I love good satire. Problem is, readers don't often get it. Good satire is usually presented as a straightforward news article or opinion piece that can often be mistaken for your run-of-the-mill newspaper story. In satire, the subject is taken to an extreme, an exaggeration for what the writer hopes is a comic effect. Since there is so much craziness on the Internet already, it's hard to pick out satire unless it's labeled as such. This is why it is so helpful for Andy Borowitz to label his "The Borowitz Report" pieces in The New Yorker as "news satire." Here's a recent brilliant example:

WASHINGTON (The Borowitz Report)—Across the United States on Wednesday, a heated national debate began on the extremely complex issue of children firing military weapons. 

“Every now and then, the nation debates an issue that is so complicated and tricky it defies easy answers,” says pollster Davis Logsdon. “Letting small children fire automatic weapons is such an issue.”

Logsdon says that the thorny controversy is reminiscent of another ongoing national debate, about whether it is a good idea to load a car with dynamite and drive it into a tree. 

“Many Americans think it’s a terrible idea, but others believe that with the correct supervision, it’s perfectly fine,” he says. “Who’s to say who’s right?” 

Similar, he says, is the national debate about using a flamethrower indoors. “There has been a long and contentious national conversation about this,” he says. “It’s another tough one.” 

Much like the long-running national debates about jumping off a roof, licking electrical sockets, and gargling with thumbtacks, the vexing question of whether children should fire military weapons does not appear headed for a swift resolution. 

“Like the issue of whether you should sneak up behind a bear and jab it with a hot poker, this won’t be settled any time soon,” he says. 

Get news satire from The Borowitz Report delivered to your inbox.

If this appeared as a standard news article in the local paper, I can easily see my neighbor, Tea Party Slim, reading it over his morning java and nodding his head in agreement. "Yes, children shooting automatic weapons is an extremely complex issue." Slim also reads loads of stuff on the Internet, as do I, where it is possible to mistake satire for another example of human weirdness -- or vice versa. Each of us carries baggage from our political POVs. I see Borowitz's piece as a terrific satire on our gun nut culture. Slim sees gun ownership and the firing of automatic weapons as a God-given right via the Constitution. He can't laugh at this because he'll be laughing at some of his own deeply-head beliefs.

Are there conservative satirists? P.J. O'Rourke comes to mind. He pokes fun at me and my fellow Liberals and I admit it gets under my skin sometimes but it is funny. Tom Wolfe made hay satirizing the hippie culture, the Black Panthers and the New Left back in the 60s and 70s. Ann Coulter is too heavy-handed to be an effective satirist, but sometimes I've found humor in her Liberal-baiting columns.

There must be some contemporary conservative satirists I haven't read because, frankly, I'd rather poke fun at the other guy. That's my God-given right under the Constitution. However, if a person can't laugh at himself, well.... that's really absurd.

If Tea Party Slim had a pair of spurs, he'd wear them to the farmer's market to rattle veggie-eating Liberals

Tea Party Slim and I sip coffee and talk about progress.

“I don't want to see Cheyenne get any bigger,” he says. “It will lose its Old West character.”

I sip my latte. “Old West character?”

He nods. “You know, Cheyenne Frontier Days, rodeo, country-western music, steaks as big as my cowboy hat, Old West shootouts, horses and cattle, boots and spurs.”

I look at Slim. He was wearing a plaid shirt and jeans. His UW ball cap rested on the table. On the way in, I saw that he wore sensible shoes. “Nobody's trying to take away your boots, Slim.”

He shakes his head. “All of these people moving into Laramie County,” he said. “They'll change the place. It will lose its conservative character.”

I thought about the recent election. Wyoming's lone Republican House member and one of its Republican senators were reelected by wide margins. Democrats lost one of their 14 legislative seats (out of 90). Tea Party types were elected to the county commission. The state gave Romney his second-biggest margin (after Utah) over President Obama. Meanwhile, our southern neighbor Colorado legalizes marijuana and goes even more blue and it's one of the battleground states that hands Obama the victory.

“So you expect an invasion of Colorado Liberals any day?” I ask.

“We have a new supercomputing center west of town and Microsoft is building a data center right next door. Microsoft is also building a test site east of town to see if biogas from our waste treatment plant can power computers.”

“What's wrong with that,” I say. “Isn't that economic development? Don't you want your kids and grandkids to find good jobs in Wyoming?”

“But we give these companies millions of dollars in financial incentives. Why do the taxpayers have to foot the bill? Microsoft owns the damn planet.”

“That's Google that owns the planet, and maybe Facebook.” I smile. I know that Slim is on Facebook a lot with his pet rants. I've been tempted to unfriend him but don't want to hurt his feelings.

“And downtown? Why does the city have to subsidize downtown development. Let the free market decide what businesses go downtown.”

“The free market turned downtown into a ghost town. It wasn't until the legislature provided funding and the city matched it that we were able to save the train depot and turn it into a gathering place and a museum and that wonderful outdoor plaza. I've seen you at the downtown farmer's market.”

“You can have a farmer's market anywhere. A Wal-Mart parking lot, for instance.”

“Why isn't it at the Wal-Mart parking lot?”

“Hell if I know.”

“Maybe Wal-Mart fears the competition? Maybe it doesn't like vegans and assorted Liberals wandering around its parking lot?”

“It's no competition to Wal-Mart. They're even building another Super Wal-Mart east of town. I love shopping at Wal-Mart because I know it irritates you Lefties.”

He had me there. “What would you do about downtown, Slim? How would you deal with all of those absentee landlords who are holding on to their properties so they can maximize their investment when commercial real estates improves.”

“I have no problem with that. People should be able to do what they want with their property. We don't need the U.N. coming in a taking away our God-given right to own a building or a piece of land.”

“Even when doing so damages the livability of your town?”

Slim puts down his coffee. “Livability. There you go with some of that U.N. Agenda 21 lingo.”

“I'm just talking about making my town a nice place to live. Isn't that what you want?”

“I want to live in a place where a man's home is his castle and he can protect it any way he wants. I don't need some urban city planners coming in spouting about social justice and environmental justice, telling me I can't burn wood in my fireplace or park my RV out on the street.”

I'd read an interview in our local paper with new county commissioners M. Lee Hasenauer and Buck Holmes. They are both fixated on Agenda 21 and urban planners spouting off about social justice. They want to keep Laramie County western, whatever that means. “You're against planning for the future?”

“I'm against big city experts coming in and doing the planning,” says Slim.

“You don't want any planning?”

“Let the free market decide.”

I drain the last of my coffee. “What would you do, Slim?”

He looks pensive as he stares into his cup. “Not a thing,” he finally says. “I like this place the way it is. Conservative. Gun rights protected. Governor fights the feds. I can park my RV where I want.”

Slim has a hulking RV. It blocks out the sun when he parks it in front of my house.

“Why would the U.N. Want to tell you where to park your RV?” I ask.

“That's what they want. They want to tell us where to live and what to drive and the width of our streets and what kind of energy we can use.”

“And they want to take away our boots and spurs. Do you have boots and spurs Slim? If I remember correctly, you grew up in suburbs somewhere in Ohio.”

He shifts in his chair. “That may be, but I'm a Wyomingite now. I don't need any spurs but I have five pairs of boots and I wear them.”

“When you go shopping at Wal-Mart?”

He levels his gaze at me. “I'll wear them any damn where I please.”

“Even to the downtown farmer's market?”

“Especially the downtown farmer's market. My cowboy hat, too, and my Wranglers, and my gun because I have a concealed carry permit. If I had spurs, I'd wear those too, so you pantywaist organic-farming Liberals would hear them jingle-jangle-jingle as I walked toward you.”

“They might quiver in their Birkenstocks, Slim. Then they'll sell you some organically-grown local produce and some home-baked bread and some grass-fed bison steaks and locally roasted coffee sweetened with unpasteurized goat's milk.”

Says Slim: “Those are some Old West traditions I can get behind.”

Tea Party Slim's new bumper sticker: "Wyoming: Love it Unquestionably or Leave It"

I let a few weeks pass before bringing up the election.

"I don't want to talk about it," said Tea Party Slim.

"I understand." I finished off my pumpkin scone. "Bad memories."

He sipped his coffee. "Water under the bridge."

We sat at a small table at the downtown Starbuck's. Two weeks after the historic election. Four more years of Barack Hussein Obama probably looked like an eternity to Slim.

"Is your family well?" I asked.

He nodded. "Yours?"

"Just dandy. What you doing for Thanksgiving?"

"Wife cooking up a storm, as always. Having over a few friends. Son coming up from Denver with his family."

"That's nice."

"Yes it is. You?"

"Kids will be home. We're taking everything over a sick friend's house. She's been in the hospital but can't cook."

Slim sipped his coffee. "That's nice."

"Yes it is."

"Good thing she had insurance, and thank goodness for Medicare. There were complications."

I could tell Slim wanted to say something, maybe a comment about Medicare running out of money and maybe it should be privatized. Instead, he just said, "I hope she gets well soon."

"She's doing better." I sipped my coffee. "Wonder what the State of Wyoming plans to do about the Affordable Care Act?"

"Obamacare," snorted Slim.

At last! "State doesn't do something, get a health exchange going or something similar, feds will step in and run it."

"Federal government can't run anything."

"Not even the military?" I knew this was a sore spot, him being a veteran and all.

"Don't go picking on the military now," Slim said. "It's one thing we do right."

"I'm just saying..."

"You're not a veteran," he said. "I was protecting the U.S.A. while you were a party boy in college, buying kegs with your student loan."

"I never thought of that, Slim. I was probably too busy working two jobs."

Slim harrumphed. "Just don't pick on the military."

"Let's make a deal, Slim. I won't pick on the military and you lay off Medicare and Social Security and state employee pensions."

"Why should I pay for state employee pensions? And why should you get pensions while private sector employees don't?"

"Let's put the shoe on the other foot, Slim. Why should I pay for military pensions and the V.A.?"

"Because we've put in our time and that's part of the deal -- serve your country and you get benefits."

"I could say the exact same thing about my 20-something years as a state employee. I've put in my time, including many years without a raise, and I've contributed to the defined benefits plan. When I retire, I expect benefits."

"You can't compare serving your country with serving the state."

"Why not?"

"It's different, that's all. People put their lives on the line. You're a paper pusher."

"True. But how often was your life in danger? And how much paper did you push around?"

"It was Vietnam..."

"You were off the coast on a big ship, were you not?"

"True..."

"Were you ever actually in Vietnam?"

"Well...."

"Never?"

"We had to arm the planes that went on bombing runs. Dangerous work."

"I'm sure it was." I finished my coffee. "I don't question that. I am thankful you get a pension and can go to the V.A. when needed. So why do you want me to face retirement without a pension and medical coverage?"

"I didn't say that."

"That's what your Tea Party Republican legislators want to do."

"They just want fairness, that's all."

"Look, employers in the private sector want to pay less than minimum wage and no benefits. They get ticked off when they train people and they go to work for the state. Meanwhile, the state can't hire much-needed staff because Wyoming wages are ridiculously low and our legislature is the embarrassment of the nation."

"If you don't like it, you can always retire and move to blue-state Colorado."

"Love it or leave it?"

"I used to have that on a bumper sticker."

"I don't doubt it. Maybe you need a new one, Slim. How about "'Wyoming: Love It Unquestionably Or Leave it?"

"Not bad."

"I know another slogan that might be better."

"What?"

"Wyoming: You Can't Eat the Scenery."

Tea Party Slim sounds the alarm on Agenda 21

Tea Party Slim is hopping mad about Agenda 21.

"What is that?" I asked Slim as we sipped our coffee at the downtown Starbucks.

He shot me a look. "What rock have you been hiding under? It's been all over the blogs."

"Which blogs."

"Tea Party blogs, mostly."

"There's the problem," I said. "I don't read Tea Party blogs."

"You should. They bring enlightenment."

"So enlighten me." I sipped my double mocha caramel latte. "What's Agenda 21?"

Slim sipped his dark roast, took a deep breath and launched into his explanation. When Slim wrapped up his spiel thirty minutes later, I felt none the wiser.

"So the United Nations wants to take over our neighborhoods?"

Slim nodded. "Lock, stock and barrel."

"Why?"

"World domination, son. They won't rest until they have our homes, our pick-ups, our RVs, our guns, our women..."

"Our daughters too?"

"No, not yet, anyway."

"That's too bad," I said. "My wife and I would like to get the last kid out of the house. We need some peace and quiet. Do you think the U.N. could use a 19-year-old with orange spiky hair who plays bass in a band called The Ingrates?"

Slim stared at me.

"Do you?"

He shook his head. "You're not taking this seriously. The U.N. has designs on our property. And they want to tell us how to build our homes, how wide our streets should be, even what kind of energy we can use."

"They don't need a bass player? My daughter's really good, as far as I can tell."

"Do you want the U.N. to tell you how to live?"

"Not really, but..."

"Do you want the U.N. to take away your car and tell you to ride the bus? Or demand that Cheyenne build a monorail?"

"I wouldn't mind getting rid of my car. It has 120,000 miles on it. I need new tires. And my driver's side window is stuck. Did you know that I have to roll down the window and open it from the outside? It's a damn nuisance." I sipped my latte. "And I wouldn't mind a monorail whisking me downtown to work."

Slim's irritation was beginning to show. "You're not taking this threat seriously."

"You're right, Slim. I don't see much of a threat. I don't see how the U.N. would spend its valuable time fretting about my six-year-old Ford Fusion or the amount of natural gas I burn in my 25-year-old furnace or the width of my suburban street."

He shook his head slowly.

"We can't even get the city to pave our street," I said. "Do you think that the U.N. might want to take that on?"

"You're hopeless," he said. "We're having a meeting on this very subject. It's on Saturday, Oct. 20, 5-8 p.m., at the Old Community House in Lions Park. Tea Party patriots from around the country will be protesting against Agenda 21 that day. We all know how dangerous this 'smart growth' nonsense could become. Other true blue conservatives will at the Cheyenne meeting. M. Lee Hasenauer for one. He's running on a patriotic platform for county commissioner. Taylor Haynes will be the emcee -- he's that Libertarian rancher who ran for governor. And so will Brad Harrington, editor of Liberty's Torch."

"That's one heck of a line-up, Slim. And it sounds tempting. But I'm getting my spine straightened that day."

"Didn't know that you had one." He smiled.

"A spine? Yes, I have one. It's been bent out of shape by all the right-wing fooferaw I've heard around here lately."

"Better get used to it."

"Never. All I can say is, 'Don't Tread on Me.' My spine couldn't stand the strain."

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.

"Caucuses?"

"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.

I ask Slim: "Why are Tea Party people so damn mean?"

I asked Tea Party Slim, "What makes you people so damn mean?"

Slim seemed taken aback. "Mean?"

"You're doing pretty well, aren't you?" I said, feeling a need to elaborate and/or rub it in. "Many of you are retired. Your homes are paid off and you have cars and RVs. You can visit your grandkids any time you want. Some, like you, are veterans and have the entire VA medical system at your disposal."

Slim appeared thoughtful. "We worked hard for our money. And some of us slogged through rice paddies protecting our freedoms."

"Were you ever actually in a rice paddy, Slim?"

He seemed to blush a bit. "You know what I mean. Some of us served."

I had come to grips with my non-service during the Vietnam era. Apparently Slim had not. "But you're doing pretty well now, right? No a rice paddy in sight here in Wyoming."

"We're taxed to death. I wouldn't say that's 'well off' "

"Just how are you taxed to death? We don't have a state income tax. Property taxes are low. Sales taxes are 5 percent...."

"But they tack on that 1 percent to pay for things we don't need."

"Like road improvements?"

"They are always working on the roads but nothing gets improved. And how come sand trucks take all day to 'improve' the roads every winter?"

I had to admit he had some good points. "But overall, our roads are good. No muddy quagmires to get bogged down in, right?"

Slim shrugged.

"Sewer and water system improvements. Flood control. New landfill. New library. I know that you and the misses use our library."

"All right, all right. The 1 percent added tax isn't so bad."

"There's no regressive grocery tax."

"We buy our groceries at the base BX."

"Like I said..."

"You wouldn't deny a veteran his benefits, would you?"

"I'm happy to pay my taxes so that you get those benefits." I smiled. It was my Cheshire Cat grin.

"Federal taxes are too high. Government too big."

Slim often digs these holes for himself. We sat there for several minutes while his words drifted through the air.

"Government...." I began.

"O.K., I was a government employee most of my life," Slim sputtered. "We all know that. But government is way too big. You wouldn't believe the waste that I saw. Taxpayer money isn't being spent wisely."

"At last we can agree on something," I said. Then I was silent as a Buddha. I felt like crawling out of my chair and sitting cross-legged on the floor. I would have too, if my knees weren't so ancient and bad.

Slim broke the silence. "Mr. Anti-War Pinko," he said.

"Make that Mr. Bleeding Heart Anti-War Pinko."

"Done."

"You call me names. Why is that?"

"You call us names. Teabaggers, filthy things like that."

"But that's a sexual term. And you guys yourselves used that, at least in the beginning."

"No we didn't."

"Maybe not. But the words you direct at Occupy Wall Street are so much more hurtful."

"They're bums," spat Slim.

"See what I mean? They're kids just trying to make a living."

"Why aren't they making a living? They're out on the streets throwing bricks at cops."

"First of all, they're not throwing bricks at cops. The protesters are nonviolent. The cops are the violent ones."

"They have to protect themselves!"

"From what -- peace, love and understanding?"

"A cop in San Francisco -- your favorite hippie town -- was slashed by a razor during a demonstration."

"I heard about that. There have been a thousand of these Occupy events and that's all you have?"

"There have been thousands of violent acts."

"Name them -- all of them."

Slim stared at me.

"You can't, can you? Meanwhile, you Tea Party guys pack heat to your demos and the cops look on meekly."

"Second amendment."

"Spare me," I said. "Name one incident where there was gunplay at an Occupy event." I could tell that Slim was replaying in his head hours upon hours of Fox broadcasts. "If this was a violent revolution by a bunch of wild-eyed radicals, don't you think there would have been gunplay by now?"

"Just wait," said Slim. "It will happen." He grinned. "And when it does, the cops can count on us loyally armed citizens to back them up."

I had a mental image of thousands of well-armed geezers taking to the streets. A cop's worst nightmare.

"I keep asking the same question but don't get an answer: Why are you so damn mean?"

"It's our God-given right as American citizens," said Slim.

"God, I'm sure, will be pleased to hear that."

Helpful graphic: Tea Party vs. Occupy Wall Street

http://www.facebook.com/ReclaimAmericafromTheLunaticFringe

Outnumbered and outgunned but unstoppable -- progressive bloggers in the West

Meg Lanker-Simons

Our roundtable session Saturday at the John R. Milton Writers' Conference at the University of South Dakota was entitled, “Snarky Slacktivists or Online Outlaws?: Leftie Bloggers in Red State Wyoming.”

Presenters were Michael Shay (me), hummingbirdminds prop.; Jeran Artery, author and editor of Out in Wyoming; and Meg Lanker-Simons, the power behind Cognitive Dissonance. The fourth member of our team, Rodger McDaniel of Blowing in the Wyoming Wind, couldn't make it to USD due to a family emergency.

We were a bit of an odd fit at a writers' conference. Even though its theme was "Outlaw: Law and (Dis)Order in the American West," ours was the only roundtable session in a schedule of literary readings and academic papers. Attendance was sparse. Yet we raged on. Our session even had a soundtrack.

I was appointed chair of the session so I dutifully chaired it (and what fine chairs they have at the new USD student center). The last time I presented at this conference, events were scattered all over campus. The U now has a second floor conference center that includes a ballroom. It reminded me of the conference center facilities UW added to its student center during its renovation several years ago.

Meg's blog came out of her "Cognitive Dissonance" show on KOCA Radio in Laramie. Meg is probably the most outspoken one in this ragtag band. A neo-Marxist who says she would fit right in in Berkeley but is a little out of her element in Laramie, Still, she believes strongly in the issues and has to speak out. She's almost as angry with Wyoming liberals as she is with conservatives due o the fact that they don't speak out and give in so easily to criticism from the roaring conservative majority. Recently, one of our merry band, Rodger McDaniel, has blogged and editorialized about the death of the Wyoming Democratic Party.

Meg is a techie and knows how to set up a radio show playlist. On her blog, her posts are an amalgam of writing, video, photos, music and animation. She actually knows how to push blogging limits. I am a writer who blogs. Meg is an activist who uses blog as bullhorn, maxing out her message with all the tools of technology. She also does her research, which drives her critics crazy.

Jeran Artery

Jaren is also an LGTB activist who blogs. He grew up in Wheatland, one of the most conservative communities in our part of the state. He was married, the father of a daughter, a successful financial adviser, when he came out. His friends and family were critical yet supportive. "What took you so long," was the message he got from most of them. He moved south 70 miles to Cheyenne, where he runs his company and also is director of social change of Wyoming Equality. I got to know Jeran this past winter during the struggles against anti-human legislation proposed by our whackadoodle legislators. That's when Jeran began blogging. He's an actor and artist and not necessarily a writer. He used photos and videos to make his points. His main target has been WY Watch, a group of right-wing fundie nuts who were behind most of the anti-gay, anti-immigrant and anti-women legislation. WY Watch stalks all of our blogs and we will be seeing its minions at the upcoming legislative session. They better be ready for another fight.

My presentation centered around a writer's metamorphosis into a blogger. The outline of my presentation is presented below for your edification.

I love my fellow bloggers. We spend our time speaking out about important issues. We all are tiny voices in an immense state. Outnumbered and outgunned yet unstoppable -- we wouldn't want it any other way.

We have talked about making presentations locally about our roles as denizens in Wyoming's underpopulated progressive blogosphere. Any suggestions on possible venues?

One more thing: thanks to our supporters who contributed to the ChipIn! campaign to send us to the Milton conference. Meg lists the contributors on her blog. We thank you all.

Here's the draft outline of my presentation, "Return of the Diary of a Failed Blogger::

I created a blog on Blogger in 2001. It looked interesting and I thought it could serve some purpose in my writing career, such as it was at the time. 

I prowled around the blogs or web logs as they were originally called. Most of them were on-line journals featuring the detailed doings of 15-year-olds in the suburbs. Shopping at the mall. Who likes (and doesn’t like) whom. Teen angst. The precursor to a lot of what you eventually saw on Facebook and Twitter.

In 2005, political blogs began popping up. I was interested on the ones from a Liberal or Progressive perspective: Daily Kos, Digby, Bartcop, Talking Points Memo, Left in the West from Missoula. I began to blog about Wyoming politics, writing, ADHD, etc. At work, I transferred my e-mail newsletter for writers – WyoLitMail – to a blog. It was a place to showcase WAC programs for writers and to billboard literary events around the state. It wasn't really exciting. We have a better blog now called Wyomingarts that I edit.

My personal blog was hit or miss at this time. In the summer of 2006, the events planner of a writing organization in Denver contacted me about appearing on a panel about “Writers Who Blog.” Leslie Petrovski had a blog about knitting and it was booming. The other presenter was writer and musician Larry Borowsky, founded of Viva El Birdos, a St. Louis Cardinals site (Cards flying high this weekened, eh Larry?). I looked at both of their blogs and they were wildly popular. I looked at my blog and saw tumbleweeds rolling across the screen surface. Not much action.

My 15-minute talk to the Denver group was entitled “Diary of a Failed Blogger.” It was funny, I guess, but also a little sad. But through my knitting and baseball colleagues, I learned a few things about getting and holding readers.  Find you focus and write original stuff on that topic.

I subtitled my blog “Prog-blogging Wyoming.” That was some sort of focus. I zeroed in on the state’s crazy politics as seen in the eyes of a lifelong Democrat, one of the few self-proclaimed Liberals in a truly Red State. I was an officer in the county Democratic Party but I tried to keep my independence from the party line. In the spring of 2008, Howard Dean sent me a nice video saying that I had been chosen to blog from the floor of the Democratic National Convention in Denver. That was a great opportunity to meet my fellow prog-bloggers and exchange tips. We put each other’s links on our blogrolls and exchanged info. Over the next couple years, other progressive bloggers began popping up in Wyoming. Now we have a great group of people blogging from southeast Wyoming, some of whom are up her with me today. 

Last spring, I was voted in as a scholarship recipient at Netroots Nation in Minneapolis. It's great to be a scholarship student at the ripe old age of 60. At NN11, I was among my people. I plan on returning to NN12 in Providence, this time with my fellow outlaw bloggers. 

I blog on Daily Kos as Cheyenne Mike. In August, Chris Cillizza, editor of the Washington Post’s political blog “The Fix,” recently named Hummingbirdminds one of the best of the state-based political blogs in the U.S. Not bad for a failed blogger.

Now here comes the hard part. My fellow writers in my critique group in Cheyenne get on me often about spending too much time blogging and not enough time on my book projects. They are correct. However, I see blogging as a publishing project. Most of it is original work and not re-posting. I’ve started to put together chapbooks featuring my work through Blog2Print. My first effort is the chapbook, “The Chronicles of Tea Party Slim”). The idea is to use these chapbooks as thematic showcases of political essays, satire, humor and even short fiction. I can have them at readings and either sell them at cost or steer people toward the online publishing link where they can order copies for $18.99. It’s good to have your work out there, no matter in what form.

Michael Shay

I remember fondly the former poet laureate of Denver, Lalo Delgado. Lalo passed away 10 years ago. To my knowledge, he never blogged. Yet he published his own work in photocopied chapbooks. He sold them at his readings and gave them away. He went to events and wrote poems on the spot. On a trip to Wyoming in 1999, he and I were driving to a gig at Central High School when we witnessed a plane crash a few blocks away. A girl referred to as “America’s youngest pilot” crash-landed on take-off from the Cheyenne airport. She and her flight instructor were killed. At the end of the day, Lalo had written a poem about it and was reading it to another group of kids.

Lalo Delgado probably would be having a great time with social media if he were alive today. He was already doing it, you see. It was called “being a writer.”

Occupy Cheyenne Mike vs. Tea Party Slim

Tea Party Slim, or someone
who looks a lot like him

I walked over to Tea Party Slim's house and invited him to Occupy Cheyenne.

I might have had a better reaction had I slapped his face with a cutthroat trout.

"Occupy Cheyenne?" he harrumphed.

"One and the same," I said.

He rose to his full height and demanded: "You have been making fun of my Tea Party sympathies since April 2009, is that correct?"

I had to admit that he was correct.

"You have been making fun of the woefully misspelled signs of my brethren and sistren."

"Check," I said. " 'Get a clue, morans' was one of my favorites."

"You have been running photos of those signs, and ones that have equated Obama with Hitler, for at least two years."

He had me. "Yes," I said.

"You have called us Know Nothings."

"Check," I said.

"You have called us rednecks."

"I did that once. I lost my head."

"You have said that we were the unwitting dupes of the Koch Brothers and other right-wing billionaires."

"True," I said.

Slim started at me. I stared back. It was one of those classic Cheyenne stand-offs. Finally, Slim asked: "Would I be welcomed at your rally?"

"It's not a rally so much as an occupation," I said.

Slim looked at me with uncomprehending eyes.

"Let's just call it a rally."

"Will you Liberal elitists make fun of my age and my demeanor?"

I looked at Slim. "Possibly your demeanor but not your age." I added: "My wife and I were some of the oldest folks at Occupy Denver last Saturday. Not a single person mocked us. We got the stink-eye a couple times, but it might have been due to seasonal allergies."

Slim nodded. "That's an old problem with stink-eye."

"Will you join us?" I asked. "You are the 99 percent."

"I suppose I am," Slim said, "although not in a Liberal Democrat Pinko Commie sort of way."

A stillness descended on the scene.

"If we worked together, do you think we could spark some real change?" This was Slim's question.

I wasn't so sure. But I sought an answer. "Couldn't hurt," I said.

We reached a compromise. I would hold (briefly) Slim's "Ron Paul 2012" sign. He would hold (briefly) my hand-lettered sign that read: "We are WY public workers. We are the 99%."

It was a start...

P.S.: Occupy Cheyenne takes place from noon to 3 p.m. on Saturday, Oct. 15, on the north side of the Depot Plaza in downtown Cheyenne. Starting at 10 a.m. that day, the UU Church is holding a sign-making workshop. I gleefully look forward to the workshop as my protest signs are woefully inadequate. See you there.

Tea Party Slim: "Keep the change"

An August Sunday morning. Tea Party Slim and I were dining on the veranda. We weren't so much "dining" as eating doughnuts and swilling coffee. And "veranda" would be a high-falutin' name for my utilitarian back porch.

The sun was out, sprinklers were on and we were at rest on the Sabbath. Slim's wife was at church. Mine was walking the basement treadmill.

I announced: "Which way, Cheyenne?"

Slim looked at me blankly. He held half of a gigantic apple fritter in his hand.

I pointed at the front of the Cheyenne paper. Big headline: "Which Way, Cheyenne?" Smaller subhead: "What do you want our city and county to look like 20 years down the road?"

Slim sat back in the chair. "I like it just the way it is."

"Keep the change, right? Just like your bumper sticker?"

Anti-Obama stickers remained affixed to the massive bumper of Slim's Hummer. I guessed that he was saving them for 2012.

He nodded. "Change is not good."

I finished off my chocolate doughnut and sipped some coffee. "Don't you enjoy electricity and indoor plumbing?"

He waved the fritter at me. "Don't be ridiculous. Our country's been the leader in those sorts of improvements."

"So you wouldn't be adverse to further civic improvements? Paved roads, traffic lights, schools, hospitals, long-range planning, better airports?"

"Paved roads are overrated," he harrumphed. "What kind of long-range planning are we talking about?

I picked up the paper and read aloud about the two long-range plans. The City of Cheyenne Metropolitan Planning Organization (MPO) is commissioning a new five-year plan as the previous one expires. It will cost $278,000, 90.5 percent paid for by federal funds and the rest split between the city and county. Clarion Associates out of Fort Collins will conduct the study. Laramie County's five-year plan is five years out of date. It will only incur nominal expenses for printing and community events as it plays catch up to things such as the massive Swan Ranch development, the Niobrara Oil Play, increased industrial development along county stretches of I-25 and I-80, etc.

Slim's responses was predictable. "The first is a waste of time and money. The second is a waste of time."

"But the Feds are picking up most of the tab for the first one"

He sat up. "See, there you go again. That's our tax money you're talking about. Why should it go to some nonsense like long-range planning when developers and and businesses and oil companies should be left alone to grow our economy." Slim paused. He looked thoughtful for a micro-second. "In fact, I'm going to write Rep. Cynthia Lummis and tell her to eliminate whatever federal agency is providing money for that stupid study." He jammed the rest of the fritter into his mouth, washed it down with some java.

"Wow, Slim, I didn't know you felt so strongly about boring planning issues."

He chuckled. "You like to push my buttons, don't you?

"I truly do. Hey Slim, did you know that U.S. Secretary of Transportation Secretary Ray LaHood recently announced a $400,000 grant to our county. It's for rebuilding the interchange at I-25 and College Drive. The goal is to 'reduce crashes.' Good idea, don't you think?"

"I hate that interchange. Some nitwit from Colorado ran into the Hummer there last winter."

"So it's O.K. to spend federal money on that project?"

"Let those gigantic truck stops pay the costs. There's three of them out there. Plus a bunch of fast-food joints."

"Soak the corporations, eh Slim?" I smiled. "Socialist!"

He laughed. "They benefit the most from he interchange. Let them pay to rebuild it."

I paused. "You may have a revolutionary idea there there, Slim. Have developers actually pay up-front for the roads, sewers, water lines, electric services and everything else that will benefit them. The developers will love that idea."

For the first time that morning, Slim began to look uncomfortable. "People should pay for the services they use. That's all I'm saying. Don't overextend yourself. That goes for people and that goes for our country. That's how we got into this mess. Now everyone wants to get bailed out."

"I don't."

"You're one of the few Liberals who can say that."

"My wife can say that. My kids can say that."

"You know what I mean," he snapped. "Not all Liberals want a bailout. A lot of them do. And so do some Republicans. They should be ashamed of themselves."

I felt a need to sum up the conversation so I could go inside for another doughnut. "So no change?"

"No change."

"Another fritter?"

I fetched more fried dough and brewed dark roast. For a few moments, we sat quietly in the warm morning.

"I probably won't be around in 20 years," Slim said.

"Not if you keep eating those fritters."

He contemplated his lumpy slab of fried dough. "You may be right."

"Your kids and grandkids will be here, though. Mine too."

"I guess they'll have to figure it out," Slim said. "Just like we did."

"Or not."

"Or not," he concluded.

Olyeller clashes with Olblue

Tea Party Slim has recreation on his mind this Fourth of July weekend.

"Glendo?" I asked, mentioning a state park about 90 miles north of Cheyenne.

Slim sneered. "Too many Greenies."

I nodded. "We should put up a southern border fence."

Slim looked pensive. "Might work -- just a fence to keep out the Liberals. Colorado's crawling with them."

I laughed. "A fence with a Liberal detector? Turn back anyone with a pointy little head?"

"Or drinking a latte." He joined the laughter.

"Obama bumper sticker? Turn 'em around, tell 'em to get back to Boulder."

"Two Obama bumper stickers? Lock 'em up!"

"On what charge?"

Slim paused. "Reckless endangerment -- of Wyoming's citizens."

"DUI: Driving Under the Influence -- of Liberal Ideas."

A real knee-slapper. Slim slapped his knee. "Aiding and abetting -- terrorists."

I ceased laughing. "See Slim, there you go ruining a good time by going all Tea Party on me."

"What?"

"And we were having such a good time together bashing Colorado Liberals."

Slim tried to make amends. "Look, I was just..."

"Heard it all before, Slim. Obama is soft on terrorists. He may be one himself, seeing as he's from Kenya and his father was a Muslim. Isn't that the Tea Party line?"

"There's no Tea Party line," Slim said, looking defensive. "We're not a political party so we don't have a party line."

"That's true," I said. "Let's just say that those are typical Tea Party talking points."

"We don't have talking points."

"Yelling points?"

Slim smiled. "I just yelled once at a town hall meeting last year and now I'm a yeller?"

"Ol' Yeller?"

"That's a pretty good Twitter handle."

"I'll steer clear of your posts."

"C'mon Mike, I'll be olyeller and you can be Ol' Blue, as in blue state."

I stared at Slim. "Not bad -- Ol' Blue. But it sounds a bit like the name of a hound dog some Alabama KKK guy would own. 'Sic 'em, Blue, sic that pointy-headed Liberal. Get that colored fella next."

Slim slapped me on the back like some Alabama KKK guy. "I love joshin' with you Olblue, but I have to get rolling. The misses and the RV are waiting."

"Where are you going?

"It's a secret."

"State park?"

"No."

"National park? National forest?"

"No."

"BLM land?"

"None of those. A bunch of us own some land up around Laramie Peak. Private land, so we can recreate in peace."

I imagined a forest grove with a dozen RVs circled up like Conestogas. Slim and his fellow Tea Party windbags sat by the fire roasting Obamacare and big gubment. The little women were barefoot (too old to be pregnant) and busy cooking and cleaning and cutting firewood. I wondered what circle of Dante's Inferno this would be.

"You have fun, Slim. While you're recreating in the mountains, the Liberal misses and I will be plotting the overthrow of the U.S. Government."

"Hey," he said, standing tall, "that's our job."

Photo: Tea Party Slim is out there somewhere, plotting mischief. Photo of WY Shirley Rim/Hwy. 77 (used under Creative Commons license).

I shock Tea Party Slim: "You guys are geniuses!"

Tea Party Slim couldn't wait to hear what I learned at Netroots Nation. He was pounding on my door five minutes after I returned from my trip.

"Let me sum it up," I said. "You Tea Party types are (pause for effect) geniuses."

This knocked Slim for a loop. "Geniuses?"

There was a time when I would have responded the same way. Geniuses? The same guys and gals with kindergarten spelling skills, who get all their news from the Fox Propaganda Channel, who shout nonsense at Congressional town meetings?

"Let me rephrase. I'm a little groggy from five days of Liberal politics."

"God forbid." There was a strange light in Slim's eyes, as if imagining Life in Hell.

"The Tea Party movement is genius," I rephrased.

"The Tea Party movement?"

"The big picture, Slim. The motivating force behind all of you."

"You mean the Constitution? The dreams that motivated our founding fathers?"

I summarized a presentation by Van Jones. Van Jones is an environmental advocate, civil rights activist and attorney. He's black, too. All of these assets made him a conservative target in 2009 when Pres. Obama appointed him as point man for the Green Jobs Economy.

"Van Jones said that he spent the past year studying the Tea Party," I said. "His conclusion: there is no Tea Party. It has no director, no D.C. office, no receptionist. It's an open-source brand."

I could tell that Slim was wary, as if he was being lured led into some kind of Liberal trap.

"I know what that is," he said. "It' something anyone can use."

"That's right. A brand ready-made for every Right Wing group in the country. Anti-immigrant groups, Ayn Rand Book Groups, KKK..."

"There you go," he said. "We're not Right Wing, we're true conservatives. You Lefties want to paint us a radicals."

"Lefties?" I smiled. "You got me. Anyway, there were thousands of 'true conservative" organizations ready to adopt the Tea Party mantle. Those small groups became a large force of like-minded people pushing their politicians."

"And we won in 2010."

"Yes, and you want to win forever. But you can't."

A wry smile from Slim. "Wanna bet?"

"No offense, Slim, but you're old and white. I'm getting there too. Tea Party rallies feature gray hairs and gray beards and people with walkers."

"And we vote in large numbers."

"Agreed. But you and I are an endangered species, Slim. Sure, you elected people like Rick Scott and Scott Walker and hundreds of ultra-conservative legislators in Wyoming and all across the U.S."

"And a U.S. House majority -- don't forget that."

"How could I?" I shivered as my mind flashed on an image of Michelle Bachmann. "But your crazies are motivating us. Those Wisconsin legislators who bullied teachers and firefighters are being recalled. Young people are rising up. And progressives have open-source brands of our own."

"Name one."

"Rebuild the Dream, for one."

"And Van Jones is the big cheese?"

"No, he's just getting the ball rolling. Local groups in Wyoming can be a part of it and won't have to pay dues or kowtow to some vaunted leader. The Netroots will be a part of it too."

"Bloggers." Slim said it with scorn.

I decided to switch the narrative, a timeworn Republican trick that Dems are slowly beginning to learn. "How does it feel to be a trailblazer?"

He brightened. "So you're coming to our Open-Source Brand Tea Party rally Friday at the State Capitol?"

"I'm at every Tea Party rally, Slim. Usually I come to privately revel in my scorn. This time I'm attending for research."

"Research?"

"Sure. Van Jones said he wants his open-source brand to be as warm and fuzzy, kind and sharing, as the Tea Party. And as patriotic -- liberty and justice for all, eh?"

Slim rose and headed for the door. "I'll see Friday at noon. Better wear protective coloration and not that." He pointed at my red-white-and-blue Democracy for America T-shirt.

"You guys don't believe in democracy?"

"We're a republic -- as in Republican."

And I thought we were making progress, Slim and I. Maybe we will find common ground Friday at the Tea Party rally.

Photo: Van Jones says that the Tea Party could be a model for Liberal activists.

Tea Party Slim & Sovereign Jake vs. Liberal Mike

I ran into Tea Party Slim at the downtown Starbucks. “Hey Slim,” I said. “Enjoying that Fair Trade Coffee?”

He peered at his grande coffee cup. "Slim” was printed on its side.

"It's just coffee,” said Slim.

I grabbed a colorful bag of beans from the rack. I read: “By working together and paying the prices that premium coffee deserves, we’re helping improve the lives of those farmers and their communities. Find out about additional ways we are working with farmers to ethnically source our coffee at starbucks.com/sharedplanet.”

Slim frowned. “I may have to go back to the doughnut shop. They have regular American coffee there -- and it doesn't preach at you.”

“Even Dave’s Doughnuts serves coffee made somewhere else," I said. "It’s sold by corporations like Folger’s or Nestle. The corporation gets more of the profit and small growers less.”

“Who’s the know-it-all?” Slim’s friend spoke for the first time. He looked a bit younger than Slim, maybe in his fifties. His hair was streaked with gray as was his bushy beard. He wore a striped western shirt, brown vest, jeans and Sunday-go-to-meeting cowboy boots.

“Meet Liberal Mike,” said Slim, “one of the few registered Democrats in Laramie County.”

“I’m Jake,” said the man. “Freeman."

We shook hands. His grip was firm; his eyes held mine.

"Jake Freeman," I said.

"No, my last name is, well, it's not important," he said. "I meant that I am a Free Man -- sovereign."

I'd heard the terms before and wanted to know more. “Let me get some shade-tree-grown Nicaraguan coffee and a whole wheat organic scone and I’ll join you gents.”

I did just that. I grabbed one of the easy chairs across from Jake. He and Slim stared at me. “Do I have a booger hanging out of my nose?” I swiped my hand across my face.

Slim laughed. “Jake doesn’t know any Liberals.” He turned to Jake. “It’s like going to the zoo, eh Jake? Looking at the strange creatures.”

“I have lots of company,” I said. "In 2008, 3,800 new Democrats registered in Laramie County. Many of them voted. That's how Obama won the majority of votes in this county."

"That was then," said Slim. "Where were they last November?"

"I don't vote," said Jake.

This time, Slim and I stared at Jake.

"Don't vote?"

"Don't need to," he said. "Why should I have to register to vote for a government I don't believe in?"

Jake erupted in a diatribe about what it means to be a sovereign. The united states of America (lower case u and s) is a republic based on the Declaration of Independence, the Articles of Confederation and the Constitution. The Magna Carta, too. And the Bible. The United States of America (capitalized) was corrupted following the Civil War. It became a centralized, profit-seeking corporation, its many laws and regulations just ways to keep the people in their place. States, on the other hand, are individual republics and make the only laws worth following.

Our coffee cups were bone-dry by the time Jake fell silent.

"I guess you don't pay taxes," I said, recalling the big check I just wrote to the IRS.

He chuckled. "I'm not a slave to the IRS. I believe in free enterprise. Me and my fellow sovereigns barter our goods and services."

"What's your skill?"

"Paperwork," he said with a grin. "In my previous life, I was a Certified Public Accountant with the State of Wyoming. I know all the tricks. I pay my filing fee and present reams of paperwork that some clerk has to input into the system. Clogs up the bureaucracy. Drives them crazy."

"Guerrilla tactics," said Slim the veteran.

"Same kind of tactics that anti-war activists used during Vietnam -- and right now," I said. "Don't pay taxes for the war machine. Or pay in bags of pennies that you haul down to the IRS office. File loads of paperwork to clog the system."

Jake stared at me. "You Liberals have your own causes," he said. "Mostly you believe in big government. An illegitimate government." He paused. "Our president doesn't even have a birth certificate."

"Now you're talkin'" said Slim.

I replied: "I thought you didn't believe in government. That's who handles birth certificates. Do you want government more involved in tracking our personal lives?"

Jake waved away my criticism. "State and local governments have some legitimacy. For instance, I register my vehicles and pay the fees. My truck needs a license plate."

"So some government is O.K.?"

"State and local. The county sheriff is the law of the land."

"If you're so sovereign, why would you take orders from any law officer."

He nodded. "Slim, your boy here is sharper than he looks."

"He has his moments," said Slim.

"There is one thing that we won't register, right Slim?" He padded his vest, lifting it up so I could see the Glock snug in its holster. Slim, in turn, lifted his jacket and revealed the SIG Sauer pistol he had showed off to me several times.

"No gun registration for these bad boys," said Jake. "It's just a way for the One World Government to track us down, take away our guns and lock us away in re-education camps."

The coffee was long gone, and the conversation had taken a bad turn.

"This government will fall, by peace or by force," said Jake.

I stood. "If you gentlemen will excuse me, I'm off to buy a gun."

"I thought you didn't believe in guns," said Slim.

"Hush, Slim," said Jake. "I think we talked him into joining us."

"No," I answered. "When the time comes, I may need it to protect myself and my family from the likes of you."

NOTE: Much of the information on the sovereign movement was taken from an excellent three-part series by Tom Morton in the Casper Star-Tribune. Joe O'Sullivan also covered some similar issues regarding city zoning laws. For some additional stories, read Tom Morton's blog at http://trib.com/news/opinion/blogs/morton/

Tea Party Slim is not so civil about The Civil War

Tea Party Slim and I were on the back porch discussing the American Civil War. We would have been on the front porch but the Wyoming west wind was blowing too damn hard. Under shelter, we sipped iced tea festooned with sprigs of mint.

“You mean The War Between the States, don’t you?” said Slim.

“The Civil War is what I’m talking about,” I replied. “It was 1861-1865. It started with the South seceding from the Union and firing on a military fort in Charleston Harbor.”

“That’s the one I’m talking about – The War of Northern Aggression. The South just wanted to live in peace…”

“…with their slaves.”

Slim held up his hand. “Not all Southerners had slaves. In fact, 85 percent of them did not.”

“But 15 percent did. And they were the merchants and land barons and politicians that forced the issue. People like Robert E. Lee, Jefferson Davis, Scarlett O’Hara’s pa, Mary Custis, etc.”

“You mean Mary Custis, granddaughter of Gen. George Washington, slaveholder?”

“One and the same.”

“Or Thomas Jefferson, slave owner and well, you know… He liked his female slaves.” Slim was trying to be delicate.

“Sally Hemmings – we all know the story,” I said. “And I’m sure there are hundreds like it all across the South. The Massa had all the power and when he came calling, well, how could a girl turn him down?”

“O.K., O.K., enough of that,” said Slim. “People make mistakes.”

“Rape is merely a mistake?”

“Let’s get back to the politics. This stuff makes me sick.”

“Rape is politics.” I had to get in one more jab. “But we were talking about The Civil War. Ken Burns called it that on PBS.”

“Don’t get me started on PBS.”

I dearly wanted to get him started on PBS, one of the Tea Party’s favorite targets, but held my tongue. “Shelby Foote is interviewed on the show. He’s a Southerner and he calls it The Civil War.”

“He has to do that on TV.”

I disappeared inside and brought back Shelby Foote’s massive three-volume The Civil War: A Narrative. “Shelby Foote called it The Civil War.”

“His publisher made him do it,” said Slim. “The War of Northern Aggression: A Narrative wouldn’t be welcomed in those New York literary circles.”

“Foote was from Mississippi, land of great writers” I added. “You can borrow the books if you want.”

“No thanks,” he said. “I’ve read all I need to about The Civ… I mean, The War Between the States.”

I held the books in my lap. They weighed a ton. I wondered if I should tell Slim that I’d only read half of the first volume.

“That’s the problem – the victor gets to tell the story,” said Slim. “The North won. The North tells their side of the story.”

“I told you that Foote is a Mississippian,” I said. “Did you watch him on the PBS series? He spoke very kindly about the South and Southerners and said some harsh words about the North. The Union generals stunk, for one thing.”

Slim smiled. “They did, didn’t they? McClellan was the worst.”

“It’s hard to say who the worst was,” I replied. “So much competition. But they did find a leader in Grant. And Sherman is credited with creating the “total war” concept with his march through the South.”

“Talk about rape and pillaging.”

“And burning crops and houses and generally laying waste to the countryside.”

“The War of Northern Aggression – like I said.”

“The Civil War – like me and Shelby Foote and Ken Burns and millions of others said. You can look it up.”

We sat in silence. I could tell we had reached an impasse. Slim was looking a bit glum. I decided that the day needed some new energy. “I’m surprised, Slim, that you didn’t once mention the magic words.”

He looked at me. “Magic words?”

“States’ rights,” I said.

His eyes bulged. Steam poured out of his ears. The glass shattered in his hand. “States’ rights,” he bellowed. “That’s what it was all about. No matter what you call the war, it was about the rights of a state or group of states over the rights of a federal government. Why just look at what’s happened since. We got the feds telling us what to do, from what crops we grow to the kind of cars we drive. Half of Wyoming is owned by the feds and we should take it back, we should….”

As Slim went on and on, I sat back in my chair and sipped my mint tea. The history of The Civil War weighed heavily on my lap and in my mind.

Photo: Tea Party uber-patriot. Photo by Don Jenkins, The Daily News

Tea Party Slim in "Urban vs. Rural Smackdown"

I was digging in my garden when Tea Party Slim walked in the backyard gate. “What you doin’,” he asked?

As I leaned on the shovel handle, I felt a twinge in my back. It was the first warm day of spring. “Digging,” I said.

Slim sat down in the porch shade. He sipped Diet Coke from a can. “Want to borrow my rototiller? Makes the job so much easier.”

I surveyed the mounds of turned earth. It was black and filled with decomposing leaves. I saw earthworms wriggling, an indication of rich soil. This is my third year of gardening in Cheyenne – this time around, anyway. 

“I like digging.” I pushed the shovel into the dirt.

Slim sipped his Diet Coke. “You Liberals think that growing-your-own is something you invented.”

Slim was testing me again. “Why do you say that?”

“You didn’t invent gardening. You didn’t invent farmer’s markets. My relatives in rural Wyoming were growing and canning tomatoes and cucumbers long before you were born. Victory gardens – you ever heard of those?”

I contemplated banging Slim on the head with the shovel. But it wouldn’t even put a dent in that thick noggin of his. “My relatives were farmers, too,” I said. “My Grandpa Shay grew up in Iowa and was growing the juiciest tomatoes this side of Iowa City into his nineties. All in his backyard garden in Loveland.”

“Were your parents farmers? Mine were – and went broke in the process.”

“Sorry to hear that,” I said – and meant it. “I know that farming isn’t easy. And no, my father was an accountant and my mother was a nurse.”

“It’s a hard life,” Slim said. “Seems to me that you Liberal gardeners and locavores and vegans are trivializing the lives of rural Americans. City slickers vs. simple country folk.”

This gave me pause. Gardening is in. Farmers’ markets are big. Even some grocery stores stock local and organic produce and grass-fed beef from Wyoming. A half-dozen farms within 100 miles provide community-supported agriculture deliveries to Cheyenne. “People are making a living from farming,” I said. “Not in a big way. Small farms. That’s good, isn’t it?”

Slim chugged the rest of his Diet Coke and tossed the can in the trash. Oops,” said, looking at me. “You probably want to recycle that, right?”

“I will recycle that can, yes. Something wrong with recycling?”

“Does recycling and green energy provide jobs? You Liberals want to shut down all the coal mining and power-generating jobs in Wyoming. Are you going to replace them with legions of people sorting cans and bottles and newspapers? I don’t think so.”

"More than a million U.S. jobs are in recycling," I said. "Recycling reduces greenhouse emissions by 30 percent, the same as taking 25 million cars off the road." 

"And the Greenies shall inherit the earth." 

“Look, Slim, I’m just trying to grow a few tomatoes in my backyard. I have no plans for world domination.”

“Maybe you don’t, but some of your fellow travelers do.”

“They are welcome to it. I’ll be busy gardening for the next three or four months.”

Slim was quiet for awhile.  A gentle breeze carried with it the rich scents of spring. “I can go get that rototiller for you.”

I surveyed the yardage I still had to dig up. I could feel a spasm starting in my lower back. O.K.,” I said. "Bring it on over.”

Slim stood. “Modern technology is good for you,” he said with a smile.

“Things like solar panels and wind generators? Electric cars? Energy-saving light bulbs?”

“Coal-fired power plants? Internal combustion engines? Incandescent light bulbs?”

We stared at each other for what seemed like seconds.

Slim finally headed for the gate. “You’re gonna love this baby. 305cc engine, electric starter, four forward and two reverse gears, 16-inch ag tires….”

“As long as it tills the soil and saves my back,” I said.

“I’ll throw it in my Hummer and be right back,” he said as exited the gate.

Slim lives two doors down. He can push the tiller from his house to mine faster that he can drive it. But what the hell – one small step at a time.

Tea Party Slim is rested and ready for June rally

Tea Party Slim is back from his travels and looking forward to the big June 15 Cheyenne T.E.A. Party Movement rally in front of the State Capitol Building.

“It’s been a good year for freedom,” said Slim. “That’s Freedom with a capital F.”

“At least you can spell,” I quipped.

Slim glared at me. “That’s all the media could talk about – misspellings on signs at Tea Party rallies. Fat lot of good it did in the 2010 elections. Tea Party candidates won across the board.”

“Good point,” I said. “The Tea Party is ridicule-proof.”

“Damn straight. You elitists can make fun of us all you want. But we show up to vote and you don’t. So we won.”

“Another good point, Slim. That’s the second time I’ve said that in as many minutes.”

He smiled. “Better get used to it.”

Slim’s skin was bronzed from his time in Arizona. I couldn’t help noticing the stitches on his forehead. “What happened there?”

He touched the wound. “ Just a little skin cancer. Doctor thought it looked suspicious so she dug it out. Thank God for the V.A.”

“You can thank me and all the taxpayers for the V.A. We’re glad to oblige.”

“We served our country and we deserve medical care.”

“I’m just noting that it was taxpayer-supported medical care. I may be an elitist, but I pay my taxes.”

“Too many taxes,” he growled.

“That may be, but without taxes there wouldn’t be a military and there would be no military benefits like the V.A.”

“My turn to agree,” he said. “I’ve paid my share of taxes over the years.”

“We all have. All of us except for the rich and big corporations.”

“Don’t start with the class war stuff. Big corporations pay plenty of taxes. Besides, a lot of those companies are defense contractors. We wouldn’t have the best-equipped military in the world if it wasn’t for them.”

“General Electric earned $14.2 billion in 2010 but paid no U.S. taxes. A New York Times report said that the corporation had a negative U.S. tax rate last year, getting a $3.2 billion tax benefit. During the last five years, GE made $26 billion in what it lists as American profits, but got the IRS to write it a $4.1 billion check. So we’re paying G.E.’s share of taxes.”

“I don’t trust the New York Times. Where did it get its information? Probably from some disgruntled overpaid former employee.”

“Public records,” I said.

“The IRS? I don’t trust them.”

“Do you know how G.E. got out of paying taxes? It lends to foreign companies, which means American taxpayers indirectly subsidize those foreign loans. Meanwhile, G.E. is slashing its U.S. workforce and sending jobs overseas.”

“All companies have to make a profit. To compete, they send the jobs to countries where labor costs are lower. Everybody knows that.”

“Maybe so. But why do you and I have to subsidize these businesses? Shouldn’t they be left to the free market that you Tea Partiers love so much? And we’re paying taxes when they aren’t. And they’re closing factories and putting tax-paying Americans out of work.” I paused to catch my breath.

Slim glared at me. “That’s the problem with you pointy-headed intellectuals. You hate the businesses that made America great. But you love the IRS. And the New York Times.”

I was tempted to unleash a barrage of ridicule at Slim. But what good would it do? The Tea Party is ridicule-proof and logic-proof. “Hope your forehead heals up soon,” I said.

He touched his wound again. “I have an appointment at the Cheyenne V.A. tomorrow. Doc will take out the stitches -- and give me my annual physical.”

“I wish you good health,” I said. “Want to be in tip-top shape for that June Tea Party anti-tax rally.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” he concluded.

Photo from Cheyenne Tea Party rally, March 2009