The other day Kevin Drum over at
Calpundit, to demonstrate Howard Dean's essential unelectability, asked his readers to just imagine the attack ads Karl Rove would run against the former Vermont Governor. After months of hearing this argument, I didn't expect this to make any difference to me, but, as I imagined the ads, something in me snapped. I suddenly could see the grainy, slightly distorted vision of Howard Dean as a narrator twisted his record, and I felt real fear. What could I do?
The problem then grew. As I was deciding what to make for my family's dinner, I grabbed a can of black beans, and I thought, "What kind of attack ad could Karl run about my vegetarian dinner?" Pictures of down-on-their-luck ranchers filled my mind, swelling music over shots of poorly clad children as the narrator blamed my dinner for the predicament of America's few remaining family farms. I grabbed my jacket to go out and buy a steak, praying it wouldn't be imported Brazilian beef or something.
But, then, which car should I drive to the store, my Toyota or Saturn? American, obviously. A Toyota drive would bring about a terrible attack ad questioning my patriotism; I can hear the narration already. Why, o, why don't I own a pickup?!?
Now, every decision is run through the same filter: What Would Karl Allow? I'm sure there's some way I could satisfy him. If I was only a little better, if I only didn't make him so mad, then everything would be fine. It's my fault.
Karl, I'll be better from now on. I promise.