For those who come into the following conversation with no background as to what started it, my friend Red remains outraged over opinions I expressed on these pages two and three weeks ago. If you are confused as to what my critical assessment of Meridian has to do with the question of impeachment for our president, be assured there is no correlation between the two subjects. No correlation whatsoever, unless you count the capacity of both subjects to get Red outraged.
We pick up the thread from last week...
"But we's a wantin' Barack Obama t' get impeached now, Cope. Right now! Afore folks forget all the scamdals what he caused! An' here's you sayin' he ain't done nuttin' to get impeached for."
"That's right, Red. That's what I'm saying. That he had little if not nothing to do with any of it, and that the 'it' he had nothing to do with is 95 percent frothed-up bullpoop to start with, and that in the end, it will all be understood as just another leg in the Republicans' five-year, ongoing refusal to recognize that the best man did indeed win.
"But you know what, Red? I'm glad the IRS was targeting those rotten tea bag bastards. The real 'scamdal' is that they were claiming to be nonpartisan charities in the first place. When frauds like them get out of paying taxes, it's just more for un-conniving, honest people to pay, did you ever think about that? Far as I'm concerned, the FBI should be targeting them, too. And the Secret Service. And throw in the ATF and the CIA and NSA for good measure.
"And another thing, pal... I think it's pretty darn not cool that you slipped into my house, uninvited, through the doggie door."
"Whats you expect, Cope? I's upset, cain't you see that? Cain't you see my pieces o' mind is all uncomboobulated? Don' you care that what you says in that column o' yourn might get me all distraughted and distressified? Besides, I jabbed that doorbell button so many times, I think I sprung m' finger, an' you never came."
"That doorbell hasn't worked for years. I thought you knew that."
"Maybe I did once. But you ain't accountin' for how upset I is. How's 'm I supposed to remember whose door bell works and whose don't when there's a U.S. president actin' like he's some Benny-Douchee Mooscalini? Not to mention you's a'callin' my sweet home Murdian some kind o' undilating germ monster from Cal'fornia!"
"I said it is 'an amorphous blob of a squat where even the city limits seem to fluctuate and flow like the membrane of some undulating California amoebae creature.' And I didn't really call it that. I said it was like that. It's not the same thing. It's the difference between an actual thing and a simile, don't you see? It's like me saying that at the moment, you are acting like a mangy dog that got into his master's meth stash and ate the whole thing. See the difference? I'm not saying you are a mangy meth dog. I'm only saying you're like a mangy meth dog. I know why you're acting like this over the president, seeing as how your whole despicable party is acting like mangy meth dogs over the president. But I don't get why you're so pissed over what I said about Meridian."
"Wull gull durnit! I juss don' know how you can says such a thing. You were a Murdian feller back when you were a li'l baby, juss like me. You went t' Murdian schools, juss like me. Y'r mammy an' pappy brought you up the Murdian way, juss like me. An' now you goes t' insultin' Murdian, all acause 60 or 70 thousand new peoples happened t' move in on top o' the ones what were already here. Cope, what you oughta be doin' is making a list o' them Murdian icons. Like what that there other newspaper is doin' for Boise? That way, all the new people'd know what makes Murdian so special."
"'Meridian icons?' Are you kidding me?"
"Nos, I are not kiddin' you! Take that ol' yeller water tower? If that ain't an icon, what the heck is it?"
"And what does it represent? That we use water here in Meridian?"
"How's 'bout it repersents that a feller's made it home again when he has to go someplace else what ain't in Murdian? Dat's what it repersents, Cope. That I'm in the right town whenever I's wantin' to be home! An' what about the Murdian Speedway? Ain't that purty gull durned iconished?"
"OK, Red. I suppose you could say the Speedway is a Meridian icon, yes. Or... you could say it's the sort of noise-polluting clutter that other towns had the good sense not to plant in the center of everything where people would have to listen to it on summer evenings from as far as two miles away."
"Awk! Now you's insulted the Speedway! An' I s'pose you think the Dairy Days is like some kind o' cluster, too?"
"Actually, Red, I don't mind Dairy Days. The fact that we still have Dairy Days says to me that Meridian is like some town that holds a seasonal celebration of its pastoral, bucolic way of life, ignoring the fact that that way of life disappeared decades ago. Understand what I'm saying? During that handful of Dairy Days days, see, Meridian is a simile of a nicer, simpler, more grateful community. And I suppose if a simile is all you got, it's better than nothing, huh?"
"Ya' know somethin', Cope? Sometimes, talkin' with you is like being on that Spilt-A-Hurl ride wheres you think y'r havin' a fun time right up until ya' vomits all over y'rself."
"There you go, Red. Your own simile."