"Look at me!! Look me in the eye!!" [View all]

[Roadside Attraction]

Today I had an encounter with a Republican that . . that . . . well, that left me shaking. It's a long story. Here goes.

I live in a red, rural Virginia county. Last week, a deer struck my old Ford Explorer; took it to the local body shop for an estimate. My insurance company approved the work, so, today, I took the SUV to the shop to leave it for the work to be done.

When I arrived at the body shop, there was a lady in the office talking with the owner. I stood inside the door, waiting my turn.

According to what she told him, she had been all over Virginia getting out the vote for Republicans. She was raving about Democrats . . . the usual horseshit.

Last week yard signs started appearing along the roadsides in our county -- pairs of signs that read:
"Resist Socialism; Vote Republican"
"Results not Resistance; Vote Republican"

A pair of these signs was sitting in the body shop office.

She turned and handed me a Republican pamphlet. I quietly refused. Then she fired both barrels at me:

"You must be a Democrat!!"

"Yes, ma'm, I am. Lifelong."

"And you are taking advantage of everything Trump has done but you won't support him."

"Everything Trump has done? And what would that be?"

"Why, this great economy!!!"

"This great economy started in late 2009!!"

She turned to the body shop guy and shouted: "See!!! An angry Democrat!! That's all they are -- angry."

To which I responded: "Ma'm, I am not angry. Not even a little bit. But I am tired. I am tired to the bone. You see, I'm a retired United States Army infantry colonel with three combat tours in Vietnam -- as a platoon leader, a company commander, and as a Special Forces A Team commander. I was wounded four times. Of my 30 years in the Army, I spent 8 months in hospitals recovering from wounds and today, at age 74, I cannot lift my left arm above my shoulder. And yet you Republicans call me 'socialist, communist, Marxist.' Because I am a Democrat, you tell me I hate this country."

By this time, she had turned her back to me. I continued:

"Look at me. Look me in the eye and tell me I'm a communist who hates this country. Look at this scar on the side of my head -- the side of my head where half the ear is missing . . . that's where a North Vietnamese soldier hit me with a machete, trying to kill me. Look at this scar and tell me I hate this country!!"

She continued to look away.

I quietly handed to the body shop guy the key to my Explorer, told him to call me when it's finished.

As I was leaving, I said to her -- with her back still turned: "And, ma'm, you have a nice day."

As God is my witness, I hate these sonsofbitches.