Candidates, snow, inanity, New Hampshire

The view inside the snow globe

By —— Bio and Archives--December 29, 2007

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Folks across the USA are hearing a lot about New Hampshire lately as the grasping, wheedling, lying national politicians and their gas guzzling SUV’s carve swaths through the growing snow banks that cover the Granite State to such great depths and which seem to have come as early and as hip deep as the politicos this year.


And where these increasingly shallow nabobs go, they are followed by the inane mainstream media, far better Fox News, Campaign Carl Cameron, Major Garret, various and sundry wildly outfitted media wagons, and long lines of camp followers, coat holders, groupies, and the like.

My land, Barrack Obama was spotted in my hometown a few days ago with his sleeves rolled up amid a cluster of enraptured folks in a quaint living room on Lane Road, not too far from my house, with the attendee’s cars stretching for a quarter mile with their right tires in the drifts.  Obama signs dotted the snow banks and the cars were covered with a plethora of the typical earth hangs in the balance bumper stickers, Remember Florida, and other bits of leftist truck. 

Meanwhile, Hillary was being described by the fourth estate in absolutely hagiographical terms, first about being heroic in a bomb proof bunker somewhere when the cops nearly shot the poor soused nut who taped railroad flares to his shirt and failed to notice the spikes sticking out of their bottom over in Rochester and then about being just the friendliest sort of gal while they always conveniently forget all about her war room, the private eyes, Harold Ickes, and the coke sales quip about poor Mr. Obama and her shrill cackles.  And now she’s touting the longest resume of any candidate which cites, ad nauseam, everything that’s locked up away in the National Archives on Bill’s orders and can’t be retrieved.  How nice.

And now poor Mr. Billy Shaheen, the hapless failed dupe of a husband of the former Democrat governor of New Hampshire, Jean Shaheen, who, after it took New Hampshire from the Revolution until her first term to reach a billion dollars in state outlays, was able to double that stupendous figure in her first term, is now out on the street looking for another Democratic campaign to chair, assist, and to get back on the highway to the big easy following his gaffe of a stunt of a drug sales pitch he hung on Mr. Obama of which Hillary, as always, knew not one scintilla and was as shocked as we all were by the whole shabby affair.

Even John McCain was sloughing off his once violent attacks on the US Constitution somewhere and everywhere in New Hampshire thanks to his McCain-Feingold travesty, that boon for MoveOn.Org, and his outright coddling of illegal aliens found under McCain-Kennedy, or some such awful combination.  And now he’s being heroically called a happy go lucky Mr. Consistent in his local TV ads for his single minded one man destruction of the New Hampshire I remember with all he’s done in his over lengthy vaudevillian repertoire in the US senate.

And then there’s the rest of the jamokes, all swimming against the tide of reason and hamming it up in our diners, front rooms, and every one of the two or three local TV stations. 

You’ll see Fred Thompson in his grinning skull interpretation of a sleepy politician treading water.  John Edwards will slide through another picaresque village claiming to be a politician and not a greedy nit picking go after every single down-on-your-luck hospital that he can find kind of trial lawyer but a dirt poor kid from the wrong side of two sets of tracks fighting for the rich in an alpaca coat, sporting a vicuña shirt, while stonking around in Oprah approved Uggs.  Quick, there’s Dennis Kucinich pretending to be an American and not a hardened Soviet apparatchik while damning capitalism to perdition.  Oops, Bill Richardson will be in town and he’ll be talking about everything he’s done to hamstring America, boost the lawlessness in the Southwest, and he’ll explain why wide open borders are totally excellent.  Huck Huckabee’s coming to tell us why he needs to be anointed in New Hampshire so he can run America like he did for poor old Arkansas in the rather large wake of Big Bill Clinton and the other crooked governor, either Tom Bigbee or Jim Guy Tucker, they happened to jail.  And Mint Romney will tell us why running the US of A is just like running the Olympics only grander in style and a bit more pithy in substance.  And what, John Kerry’s not coming this cycle?  Even better. 

A few short weeks ago,  my wife and I were being entertained by friends in a far warmer Ojai, California, and were subjected to a round robin of questions from their neighbors which indicated the great divide separating the Left Coast from the small eastern state.

From queries like, “What is it really like in New Hampshire this time of year?” To, “We hear that New Hampshire has gone way Democratic lately,” and “My, it seems so unfair that so much of America depends on what New Hampshire does.”  “Is New Hampshire near Canada?”  And so on. 

It’s not easy living in New Hampshire in these wild and wooly days of the pre-primary capers.  At any time, day or night, some crazed madman or woman can bang on your door and demand to speak with you about their candidate and why he or she should garner your vote so they can get a leg up on becoming the most powerful person on the planet with the ability at the drop of the proverbial trooper’s hat or a jester’s tinkle belled chapeau to go nuclear combat toe to toe with Iran, Russia, or anybody that crops up big time on the big board in the war room.  Or even better is when they earnestly explain why the candidate needs to take your hard earned money and give it to folks whom you’ve never met who need it far more than you do and then they call this shake down an “investment” and whisper it in a sort of reverential tone.  Yada, yada, yada.

And they just won’t say no.  They just keep banging on even though the house is pretty much dark and you live up a three hundred foot driveway in the trees, such is their four year driven wont.

Then the dogs begin to bark and you realize that the only way to get the house quieted down is to answer the door and barter the nut away, that is if they can take the hint, they usually being Democrats and all and on a secret mission a la John Kerry in Cambodia.

I heard my wife tell a Kucinich supporter, “Please be quiet or you’ll wake my husband.  He’s a retired LA cop, a Republican, and he believes in the Second Amendment.”  She said he ran off into the darkness.  I said it was a good call.

We had an Obama supporter hit the place late one night.  He told me that the candidate reminded him of JFK.  I said, “JFK junior?”  That pretty much ended that conversazione as he wandered off into the fog saying no, the real JFK, over his shoulder.

Nope it’s New Hampshire primary season, all bets are off, and every campaign nut is on the ground running, pounding on doors, yelling, telephoning, mailing, and filling the airwaves with every imaginable bit of unconscionable drivel as the mainstream media puffs every Democrat candidate and some Republicans into a hero of some sort.

Oh, yes, we actually received a Christmas card from Bill and Hillary Clinton, though I doubt we’ll receive another one next year.  I wanted to save it and use it as a party favor at our next luau.  But no, my wife threw it away to save us unwarranted attention, she said.

But January 9th is on the horizon and peace will finally return again to the Granite State and folks will go back to talking about the depth of the white gold, the weather, hockey, counting birds at the feeder, re-lacing the snow shoes, badgering folks in town, government, and taking bets on the Patriots.


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John Burtis -- Bio and Archives | Comments

John Burtis is a former Broome County, NY firefighter, a retired Santa Monica, CA, police officer. He obtained his BA in European History at Boston University and is fluent in German. He resides in NH with his wife, Betsy.

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