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I knew it was in here somewhere. Deep inside, wanting to come out and stay a while, but finding no room at the inn. Crushed by almost four years of disgust masquerading as concern, for jingoism masquerading as love of country, my own pride was laughed at, scorned, ridiculed. I was branded as being in the dreaded “against us” camp, no matter how many tears I cried as I watched buildings turn to rubble and lives turn to dust. I didn’t matter, and if you didn’t play the game you didn’t either. I watched as America stood foursquare against the world, and led by a madman of biblical proportions screamed to anyone within earshot “my way or the highway.” I turned to the lady in the harbor, but her eyes were closed, her head bowed. She could not watch.
I knew it had to end, for there must be others who felt the same pride as I did. I looked for them, but they too found it hard to breathe with a perverted boot of justice laying hard across their throats. Yet speak we did, in whispers at first, trying to speak the truth between gasps for breath. As we grew in numbers the voices got a little louder, and we thought for a moment we could rise up and shout. But our pride was once again stifled by the cheers for the cabal, and we lay silent again as Bluto took Olive Oil home to roost. As we watched, our eyes caught a glimpse of something shining within arms reach, and we all knew what the magic can contained. Eat the spinach, kids, and let’s get to work.
Howie ate first, and the spinach gave us all a spine. Suddenly possessed of voice, we began to talk and learn and hope and fight. Millions of us – some who have never done so before – stood up and said with money and mouth “give us back our country.” Wes ate next, and the man with medals ripped the flag from the hands of the impostors and planted it firmly on Democratic terra firma. The rest ate, too, and the message began to resonate with all of us. “Well I’ll be”, we said, “We’ve got ourselves a backbone.” As Bluto went careening off the furniture and landed by the door, he agreed. We were just about ready to open the door, but instead...
Instead, just yesterday, a tall guy in Boston kicked it open so hard you could here it all the way to Crawford. When it shattered, out spilled the pent-up pride of millions of us. It flowed like a torrent, washing over the every purple mountain and fruited plain in sight. The game is on, and we’re fielding the regulation nine for the first time in years. As we listened, we knew. Our voices matter now, as do our hearts. The boots across our throats are gone, replaced by thousands on the ground bringing the message home. We are, as they say, ready to reclaim what is rightfully ours. Bring it the hell on.
We are Democrats – proud Democrats. We love this country with a passion not formed from political expediency, but from true unyielding love. The flag is ours now, too, as are those who serve and die under it. The values of America sit firmly in the hands of two Senators from the east, and they ain’t lettin’ go. Neither are we. Walk with us as we spread a vision of true American pride from coast to coast. Watch the lady in the harbor strike that familiar pose and swear you see a twinkle in her eye. Watch as we unmask the Mad Hatter, and listen to the strains of The Star Spangled Banner as the refrain “land of the free”, sung by millions, rides like a tsunami from border to border.
Man, are we gonna sound good…
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