Man of the People

by Independently Philly…

My friend Tony Turnipseed is a Democrat.  Not just any Democrat, but a hardcore populist in the tradition of William Jennings Bryan and Thomas E. Watson. He was devastated when Barney Sandals bowed out. When I told him I was a fan of the man with the small hands, however, he totally blew a gasket.

“Never,” said Tony.  “Not in a million years.”

“Let me tell you a little story,” I said to him, “about a modern-day populist who wanted to be president.”  Because Tony was a populist too, he was obliged to hear me out.

“Number one,” I said, “was his ability to speak directly to the people, bypassing the dishonest and biased media.”

“All right,” said Tony, “I’ll give you that one.”

“He was opposed to Wall Street.  He was an outsider.”

“That may be,” said Tony, “but what about all the insults?”

“True,” I said.

“What about the fact that he was really nothing more than just a salesman?”

Good point..

“What about the fact that he portrayed himself as a self-made man, a man of the people, when everyone knows he was not?’

Touché.

“What about the fact that he would run the country like a police state?”

Scary.

“What about the massive ego?”

Not a fan of that.

“And what about his trademark: leaving people with the insult that lasts?  Nicknames.”

Tony was right.  His trademark was indeed the epithet.

“He’s completely self-absorbed,” said Tony.

Right.

“A demagogue.”

Can’t argue with that.

“A peacock.”

Not fair to peacocks.

“And a pompous ass.”

He did have a big ass.

“I think there’s just one solution for him, and that’s the business end of a gun.”

Bingo.

“So,” I said to Tony, “what do you think about your man now?”

“My man?” said Tony.

“Yes, you just described Huey P. Long to a tee.”

Tony took a good long look at me.

“I recommend the Sinclair Lewis novel, It Can’t Happen Here,” I said.

“Fuck you,” he said.

My good friend Tony Turnipseed is a Democrat.  As such, the only thing he hates worse than admitting it, is being wrong.  I love my friend, though.  Besides, who likes admitting that he’s wrong?  I know I don’t.

.


About the Author
Philip Loyd loves fat chicks and cheap beer, though not necessarily in that order. His first novel, You Lucky Bastard, is represented by New York Literary Agent Jan Kardys. Loyd lives in Dumbass, Texas.  Find out more about Loyd at http://PhilipLoyd.com


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