The Audacity of Hope

Feeling partiotic this morning, I donned my "Bush is a Tush" t-shirt. As I sauntered up Amsterdam Avenue on my way to Barnes & Noble (they finally have Off the Beaten (Subway) Track in stock!), I noticed two guys engaging in the latest New York City annoyance: sidewalk fundraising. The sidewalk fundraisers wander around with a clipboard, approaching people and asking them things like, "Do you care about the environment?" or "Do you support gay rights?" If you are foolish enough answer yes, they then attempt to get you to give them money for the cause. I can't imagine that this works, but it must because the only sidewalk fundraisers I used to encounter were for Greenpeace, but now I see people from the DNC and Human Rights Camapign all the time.

Today's sidewalk fundraisers had t-shirts on for some progressive group whose name I can't remember. I figured that my "Bush is a Tush" t-shirt made me a big target. Silly me. I assumed that people would read my chest.

"Do you want to defeat John McCain in November?" the bearded sidewalk fundraiser asked me.

"Do I look like the type of person who supports John McCain?" I asked with disdain, pulling my t-shirt away from my body a bit so he could read it without feeling like a pervert.

"Bush.... is... a... tush," he read aloud, sloooooowly. Then he frowned. "So do you support John McCain?"

"Damn, we might really lose this election," I thought. "Good thing we are moving to London!" Not long after that, I called Husband at work. He sounded glum.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"London might be off the table," he grumbled.

At that moment, a pigeon flew into my head. (I am OK, albeit repulsed, as my hair now is infested with rank pigeon germs. Those things are flying sewer rats.) Could the signs be more ominous? I am very displeased.