I’m going to the National Tea Party Convention in Nashville,” I told my wife Ileen. “Sarah Palin is going to be the keynote speaker.”
“Sarah Palin! She’s terrific. Who’s paying for it?” she asked, suspiciously.
“The Tea Party people. The Democratic party recommended me highly.”
“The Democratic Party!” she exclaimed. “After what you accidentally did to the Democrats telling the whole world that Obama falsely had gone over to the pro-life side? That’s help he could do without. Say you’re not planning to foul up Sarah’s campaign?”
“Never, dear. I’m a strong supporter of Sarah Palin.”
“That’s good. Have a nice time and don’t drink too much tea.”
At the National Tea Party Convention in Nashville, 600 delegates were attending the weekend conference. It was their first national conference and featured a number of prominent speakers. Palin was to give a nationally televised speech at a rumoured $100,000 (US).
A smartly dressed, southern society woman looked at my credentials at the door and gave me a cool reception. She informed me the media were located at the back of the hall. She said she didn’t like the mainstream media because they had heaped scorn on the Tea Party and were not genuine 100 per cent, patriotic God-fearing Americans. I assured her The Interim was definitely not a mainstream paper and that we had supported McCain/Palin in the past election. Just then, I heard a voice calling out.
“Frank! What are you doing here?”
It was Tom Spindel, the Toronto Daily Rocket’s top political reporter and a strong pro-abortionist.
“Tom, I’m doing a story for The Interim. We think the Tea Party is a genuine phenomenon. It’s the people’s voice. They came on the scene a year ago and they’re giving the Democratic and Republican parties the willies.”
“Frank, you must be crazy, frightened by this collection of oddballs and weirdoes.”
“This collection, Tom, had tens of thousands of people at a demonstration in September in Washington last year and four months later, they were the people largely responsible for Scott Brown’s upset win in Massachusetts – home of the original Tea Party. They also chewed a big hole in the Obamacare health plan, saying it was a taxpayers’ money sink hole.”
“Frank, it was over-confidence and stupid campaigning, that’s what killed the Democrats.”
“Tom, don’t forget Sarah Palin endorsed Scott Brown. That didn’t hurt him either.”
“Yes, Frank, but look at these dressed up clowns on the podium.”
“Tom, they’re dressed in a Revolutionary War-era costume because that’s how the Tea Party sees the situation today.”
“Frank, you mean this hodgepodge of fundamentalists, anti-tax zealots, anti-immigration cranks, protectionists and anti-abortionists, are going to take over the U.S.A.?”
I said: “They represent a lot of angry people, Tom. They have no use for the mainstream media – that’s what’s bothering you.”
“They’re just complainers. They’ve got nothing to offer. They won’t elect enough people to fill a phone booth.”
“Maybe, Tom, but their five to 10 per cent of the vote is going to determine who’s going to get elected. You guys from the mainstream media have been sent here to badmouth Sarah Palin, exaggerate her weaknesses and paint her as a nutbar.”
“What do you mean, Frank? We love Sarah Palin. She’s good for business,” said Tom.
“Tom, first you tried to ignore Sarah Palin into oblivion. That didn’t work. Then you wrote about her being on life support politically, but she refused to die.”
“Oh, c’mon, Frank.”
“Then on the advice of your political masters you tried to kill Sarah Palin with a thousand pinpricks and that hasn’t worked either.”
“Frank, you’ve ignored what’s going on. The Tea Party is racist. They hate Obama because he’s black.”
“Nonsense, Tom. Two of the top speakers today are conservative black women.”
Suddenly a crowd of people descended on Tom and I heard a woman’s voice calling: “Frank!”
It was Sarah Palin. She was joyful and exuded a certain charm. “Frank, I’m Sarah Palin. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you. You were the one who fouled up Obama’s computer and gave him heartburn.”
“Yes, Sarah,” I said. “No political party will ever leave me alone with their computer again.”
Sarah laughed and came forward and gave me a hug and said: “Keep puttin’ the boots to those fat cats, Frank. Someday we both might get lucky.”
Sarah left. Tom stood there spellbound.
