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himself whatever he wants, that doesn't make it so."
The Sacramento Bee, reviving the old political nickname, headlined it,
GOVERNOR GLOWWORM TURNS.
Unfortunately for the California Republican party, they felt obliged to run
the secretary of state and interim governor. He had two strikes against him:
He had zero name recognition, and he was seen as the political creation of the
hated but now lamented governor. Not a dark horse, but a dead one.
In protest, campaign contributions poured into Barry Black, Junior's war
chest. No one believed he would win, anyway. He represented the protest-vote
candidate. Everybody knew that.
Everybody except Barry Black, Junior.
"I love being a Republican!" he crowed, "It's so darn easy!"
"Don't get your hopes up," cautioned his new campaign manager.
"Why not? My only competition is Rambette the Ripper. Ever since she quite
smoking, she's been hot to outlaw cigarettes."
"Barry, there's an old political saying, 'Dance with the one what brung ya.'
"
Barry blinked beady, uncomprehending eyes.
"I don't know that one. It doesn't sound charitable."
"It means you came into politics a Democrat, and people won't respect you for
switching horses in midstream. Just because you call yourself a Republican,
doesn't mean the voters will buy it come election day."
"Tell that to David Duke," returned Barry Black, Junior.
"You wanna be the next David Duke, pull a sheet over your head and move to
Louisiana."
With virtually no competition, Barry Black, Junior became an unstoppable
juggernaut. In the polls.
Then came the first reports of the attempt on the life of dark-horse candidate
Enrique Espiritu Esperanza.
"Who is Enrique Espiritu Esperanza?" Barry Black had asked when word reached
him.
He had to have it explained to him twice.
When Enrique Esperanza began climbing up the polls, the question became, "Who
the heck is Enrique Espiritu Esperanza?"
It was explained to him again. This time with newspaper clippings.
"No problem," he said. "He's nobody."
When the first footage of the South Central district of Los Angeles rally
showed Enrique Esperanza lording it over the gangs like a modern-day Caesar,
Barry Black was moved to shout, "Who the fucking hell is this Esperanza?"
"I don't know, but according to the political calendar, he's coming to town
today."
"Let's get our troops mustered," said Barry Black.
Barry Black fumed as he was driven to his campaign headquarters on Nob Hill in
a stretch limousine, a legacy from his party chairman days. He had purchased
it from petty cash.
"I gotta do something about this guy," he muttered.
"Like what?"
"I'm a Republican now. I should do something appropriately Republican.
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Establish my new credentials."
"Good idea."
Barry Black's brow furrowed. "What would a Republican do in a situation like
this?"
"I thought you were a Republican."
"I mean hypothetically."
"Maybe you should play the race card. Isn't that what they do?"
"Great thinking. I'll make a speech. Call him a lowdown wetback greaser."
"Uh, Barry, I don't think that would be the way to go"
"Why not? It's the Republican way, isn't it?"
"No. It's what the Democrats call the Republican way."
"Darn. You're right. I'm still thinking like a Democrat. I gotta cure these
tendencies." Barry Black closed his eyes. "Ommmmm. Ommmmm.''
"You okay, Barry?"
"I'm meditating on Republicanism."
"Let me know if you see Lincoln," sighed his campaign manager.
Barry Black still hadn't arrived at a response to the Esperanza challenge when
his limo pulled up before the storefront campaign headquarters.
He got out of the car, adjusting his Republican tie. He straightened his
Republican coat and, his Republican shoes clicking on the sidewalk
confidently, strode to the door.
Came a screeching of tires around a corner. Barry Black turned instinctively.
He saw an unusual sight, even for San Francisco.
A wide red convertible screeched around the corner. There was a brown-skinned
man behind the wheel.
Squatting in the open backseat, like a machine-gunner in the rear of a jeep, [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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