Letter from a Post Office
ASK NOT WHAT JOE BIDEN CAN DO FOR US;
BUT WHAT wE SHOULD DO FOR JOE BIDEN?
A FRIEND OF OURS called today about what just had happened at the Post Office.
He had been standing in line to mail something to the United Kingdom, an expensive errand that already had him in a foul mood.
Then he spotted the baseball cap that another person in line was wearing, with the slogan “Let’s Go Brandon.”
Our friend’s mental state quickly went to a full boil.
“What should I do?” he wondered, and not in a nice way.
YOU MAY BE asking why something so innocuous as “Let’s Go Brandon” should trigger such a reaction. In which case, that makes you a clueless liberal, a witless progressive and even worse, a registered Democrat.
Simply translated, “Let’s go Brandon,” is Right Wing snark for “Fuck Joe Biden.”
It’s spread across social media with the speed of a California wildfire or a Louisiana flood, so that in less than two months, it’s become common Republican-speak, in print and video, on hats, banners and T-shirts.
It’s origin has everything and nothing to do with fast cars.
According to an Associated Press story I looked up online, the slogan got the checkered flag at an Oct. 2 NASCAR event at Alabama's Talladega Superspeedway. A winning driver, Brandon Brown, was being interviewed by an NBC sportscaster.
In the background, TV viewers could hear the crowd chanting, but not clearly. The sports guy speculated that fans were cheering Mr. Brown: “Let’s go Brandon.” What a doofus: they were shouting “Fuck Joe Biden.”
Readers of this blog know that I’m just a simple stray from Missouri, who’s frankly starting to show her age. But I’m blown away by this one: people shell out money for a ticket to NASCAR and instead of celebrating a winning driver, they go full potty-mouth on the President of the United States.
“What the gosh-darn heck is going on?” I asked Mr. O, the politically astute opossum and my blogging partner.
“It’s just Republicans being Republicans,” the marsupial answered.
“Same question, same answer as why most Republicans wouldn’t censure Rep. Paul Gosar, R-AZ after he posted a cartoon in which he “kills” Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez , D-NY?” Mr. O said. “Or why they trivialize, even endorse, the Jan. 6 insurrection at the Capitol in which some of them might have been murdered? Or why they are pushing their End of Days restoration dream of Donald Trump being back in the White House that they think he really never left? Why are they so determined to kill each other and the rest of us with their Covid nonsense?”
He had been standing in line to mail something to the United Kingdom, an expensive errand that already had him in a foul mood.
Then he spotted the baseball cap that another person in line was wearing, with the slogan “Let’s Go Brandon.”
Our friend’s mental state quickly went to a full boil.
“What should I do?” he wondered, and not in a nice way.
YOU MAY BE asking why something so innocuous as “Let’s Go Brandon” should trigger such a reaction. In which case, that makes you a clueless liberal, a witless progressive and even worse, a registered Democrat.
Simply translated, “Let’s go Brandon,” is Right Wing snark for “Fuck Joe Biden.”
It’s spread across social media with the speed of a California wildfire or a Louisiana flood, so that in less than two months, it’s become common Republican-speak, in print and video, on hats, banners and T-shirts.
It’s origin has everything and nothing to do with fast cars.
According to an Associated Press story I looked up online, the slogan got the checkered flag at an Oct. 2 NASCAR event at Alabama's Talladega Superspeedway. A winning driver, Brandon Brown, was being interviewed by an NBC sportscaster.
In the background, TV viewers could hear the crowd chanting, but not clearly. The sports guy speculated that fans were cheering Mr. Brown: “Let’s go Brandon.” What a doofus: they were shouting “Fuck Joe Biden.”
Readers of this blog know that I’m just a simple stray from Missouri, who’s frankly starting to show her age. But I’m blown away by this one: people shell out money for a ticket to NASCAR and instead of celebrating a winning driver, they go full potty-mouth on the President of the United States.
“What the gosh-darn heck is going on?” I asked Mr. O, the politically astute opossum and my blogging partner.
“It’s just Republicans being Republicans,” the marsupial answered.
“Same question, same answer as why most Republicans wouldn’t censure Rep. Paul Gosar, R-AZ after he posted a cartoon in which he “kills” Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez , D-NY?” Mr. O said. “Or why they trivialize, even endorse, the Jan. 6 insurrection at the Capitol in which some of them might have been murdered? Or why they are pushing their End of Days restoration dream of Donald Trump being back in the White House that they think he really never left? Why are they so determined to kill each other and the rest of us with their Covid nonsense?”
BACK AT THE POST OFFICE: The hat emblazoned with “Let’s go Brandon” was having its intended effect on our friend, who unlike most liberals, is savvy to Right Wing codespeak.
He knew he had to do something. But what?
Should he confront the man, who was 6-foot-plus, something our friend never has been and never expects to be.
Propose an even swap of reasoned ideas? I'll show you mine, if you won't show me yours.
A scholarly quiz: Do you know how the Constitution defines treason, Idiot?
A direct challenge: What kind of an asshole supports somebody who wants to overthrow the government?
Finally, our friend acted.
He took a deep breath and shouted: “GOD BLESS JOE BIDEN!”
THE REACTION? The hat-wearer refused to make eye contact.
The line moved forward. Our friend emptied his wallet and sent his missive on its slow trip across the Atlantic. He drove home.
En route, being a liberal, he replayed the incident, second-guessing himself, even phoning friends, including us, pondering what he should have done. Or not.
Had he chickened out? Why didn’t he speak to the man? Challenged him for his coded crudity right there on federal property? What could he have said? And on and on and on.
“What do you think he should have done?” I asked Mr. O.
“Just what he did,” the opossum said. “It was perfect. Inspired.”
“Inspired that he called on God to take sides politically right there in the Post Office?” I replied.
“Absolutely,” Mr. O said."It’s time Democrats started standing up for Joe Biden. Even a long-tailed marsupial knows that Joe Biden saved democracy, in case anyone’s forgotten. But now the Crazy Right is trying to put all that in reverse, and fast.”
“Patriots need to step up, go on offense and stop their whining, their squabbling and stop blaming their President, their party and themselves for everything that the Republicans are up to.”
“Time to stop fretting over polls,” he said. “It’s time to stop twisting ourselves into moderate-shaped pretzels. Republicans are out to wreck the country, and you think fanatics will be won over with middle-of-the-road platitudes? There can be no peace with cruel, sadistic, death-wish terrorists bent on turning the Oval Office into a Throne Room.”
He knew he had to do something. But what?
Should he confront the man, who was 6-foot-plus, something our friend never has been and never expects to be.
Propose an even swap of reasoned ideas? I'll show you mine, if you won't show me yours.
A scholarly quiz: Do you know how the Constitution defines treason, Idiot?
A direct challenge: What kind of an asshole supports somebody who wants to overthrow the government?
Finally, our friend acted.
He took a deep breath and shouted: “GOD BLESS JOE BIDEN!”
THE REACTION? The hat-wearer refused to make eye contact.
The line moved forward. Our friend emptied his wallet and sent his missive on its slow trip across the Atlantic. He drove home.
En route, being a liberal, he replayed the incident, second-guessing himself, even phoning friends, including us, pondering what he should have done. Or not.
Had he chickened out? Why didn’t he speak to the man? Challenged him for his coded crudity right there on federal property? What could he have said? And on and on and on.
“What do you think he should have done?” I asked Mr. O.
“Just what he did,” the opossum said. “It was perfect. Inspired.”
“Inspired that he called on God to take sides politically right there in the Post Office?” I replied.
“Absolutely,” Mr. O said."It’s time Democrats started standing up for Joe Biden. Even a long-tailed marsupial knows that Joe Biden saved democracy, in case anyone’s forgotten. But now the Crazy Right is trying to put all that in reverse, and fast.”
“Patriots need to step up, go on offense and stop their whining, their squabbling and stop blaming their President, their party and themselves for everything that the Republicans are up to.”
“Time to stop fretting over polls,” he said. “It’s time to stop twisting ourselves into moderate-shaped pretzels. Republicans are out to wreck the country, and you think fanatics will be won over with middle-of-the-road platitudes? There can be no peace with cruel, sadistic, death-wish terrorists bent on turning the Oval Office into a Throne Room.”
"SHOUT IT OUT,” Mr. O thundered. “Stand up. Print it in capital letters. Write it big. Make sure they can hear you in the Republican sewers, in the middle of the road where moderates are about to be whacked from both directions; make it echo across the liberals' lofty Green Mountains and on both their elite coasts.”
“We need to hear it in the churches, at the supermarkets, the muffler shops, on the street corners, on the radio, AM and FM, across the Internet, in the doughnut shops, at the national parks, during book clubs, steamed into kitchens and bedrooms, heard at the opera, on the factory floor, delivered by Amazon vans and UPS trucks, played over and over on the putting green, the tennis court, the race track, of course, in the bowling alley, if any are left. And if you happen to be at the Post Office, you have call it out there, too.”
By now, Mr. O was hoarse and nearly out of breath.
“Just make sure everyone can hear you,” he croaked.
“Shout it. Loud. And shout it big:"
GOD BLESS JOE BIDEN!
“We need to hear it in the churches, at the supermarkets, the muffler shops, on the street corners, on the radio, AM and FM, across the Internet, in the doughnut shops, at the national parks, during book clubs, steamed into kitchens and bedrooms, heard at the opera, on the factory floor, delivered by Amazon vans and UPS trucks, played over and over on the putting green, the tennis court, the race track, of course, in the bowling alley, if any are left. And if you happen to be at the Post Office, you have call it out there, too.”
By now, Mr. O was hoarse and nearly out of breath.
“Just make sure everyone can hear you,” he croaked.
“Shout it. Loud. And shout it big:"
GOD BLESS JOE BIDEN!
RSS Feed