So it's been 2 days and half a case of beer since I escaped the clutches of the Buckhead YRs, but I can't shake the emotional trauma. I thought I'd unburden myself online (and finally blog SOMETHING) to see if that helps me sleep at night.

Monday night, Kimberly “the flight attendant not the president of Atlanta Young Dems” Fountain and Shelby “I'm not much into politics but Robert might be my cousin” Highsmith attended the monthly meeting of the Buckhead Young Republicans. I'm still not entirely sure what possessed us. “Engaging in dialogue” was out of the question, as we were hopelessly outnumbered and I didn't want to be ritually sacrificed once our true identities were revealed. In fact, from the very beginning, it seemed like the President and the Secretary-Treasurer kept looking at us funny, like they could smell a rat; I'm sure my freshly dyed purple bangs didn't help, but in my defense, their Social Chair had a pretty liberal 'do himself. I WAS wearing a polo shirt tucked into pleated khakis, so come on. Still, every time they looked at us all shifty-eyed during the program, my sphincter puckered up like a dead star collapsing under its own gravity. I kept waiting for the Pres to call on the secretary to “Lock the doors” and take the meeting down a dark path to deal with the spies in their midst.

The meeting began with a banging of a gavel. Yes, the BYR Pres has a fancy brass-ringed gavel, and no, Kimberly can't get one. With the meeting called to order, we pledged allegiance to an American flag hung on the wall at the end of the room with push-pins. Some of us nincompoops began to sit after that like Christmas'n'Easter Catholics before being corrected to remain standing for….[drum roll]….the invocation, given by Buckhead district Assemblyman Ed Lindsey. Who is a lawyer. Not a preacher. The invocation mentioned something about Georgia losing a lot of its sons recently in Iraq, but skirted anything involving an “end.” Moving on.

The speaker, who is NOT a detectable cousin of mine after all, was Robert S. Hi ghsmith, Jr., former Perdue aide and candidate for Attorney General. He kept his speech brief to leave things open for Q&A, but he did manage to take potshots at a few Democratic things:

  • Current Dem AG Baker for “wasting $5 million of taxpayer money” needlessly defending an “unconstitutional redistricting plan” drawn up by Dems in 2000-1. Nevermind that under caselaw up to that point it was still legal. Nevermind either the taxpayer money Perdue wasted suing his own AG in a power-grab, till the GA Supreme Court reaffirmed lower court decisions that Sonny Perdue has no business ordering his AG to drop a legal appeal. $5 million is also a 60% overstatement.
  • Making fun of all us pantywaists crying discrimination about the new Voter ID bill, rightfully making the point that a 6-month old utility bill isn't a very good guarantee of enfranchisement, but wrongfully leaving out how many state ID-issuing offices have been closed over the last year. Now, if you don't have a driver's license to take to the polls, in much of the state you have to…DRIVE to another county to get one. He artfully dodged a question about just HOW Granny and Grandpa will be guaranteed their right to vote if they're wheelin' around the nursing home.
  • Um. Yeah, I don't really remember anything else. I was probably too busy making bug-eyes at the waiter trying to get him to bring me another Guinness. I was also quite distracted by the fact that the woman sitting across from me, who was one of the most beautiful women I've seen in my life, was in rapt attention to the speaker as he went on and on about “our conservative agenda,” nodding solemnly as if to say “Amen, brother,” with her wide doe eyes, and breaking my heart a little every time she did so.

Speaking of hotness, let me just say that, as a whole, this chapter dispels the myth that the YR's have better sex appeal than YD's. We were actually worried about this, in our more lighthearted executive moments. Of course, this parity does nothing to dispel the fact that my dedication to the YD's all year hasn't gotten me a single date. What, you thought I cared about politics?

Only one question in the Q&A really stuck with me, just because it's in my arena as a gun-toting Democrat. It might also have had something to do with my fascination with the way the questioner kept being touchy-feely all night with the dainty Thai swimsuit model chick next to him who was definitely NOT HIS WIFE. He said that the current AG doesn't take much heat from the NRA 'cause he's friendly to hunters it seems. “But the 2nd amendment isn't about hunting; it's about our right to defend ourselves against a tyranical government.” [At this point I momentarily blacked out from the
weight of the irony.]

Apparently, there is some form that a citizen can fill out and that requires the state AG's signature that will approve your purchase of controlled firearm items, like…machine guns and silencers. And apparently, the current Dem AG isn't keen on signing those. “Will you, as AG, sign those forms so citizens can purchase firearms and silencers?”

The married guy who can't keep his hands off his single Asian hottie “friend” wants MACHINE GUNS AND SILENCERS. By this point, I had had enough Guinness to really want to stay and mingle after the meeting so I could ask this wingnut about his interest in assault weapons. I mean, as a gun advocate of sorts myself, I'm in possession of enough man-portable firepower to take out, oh, 30 or 40 random jerks before the cops figure out what's going on, and you know what? I'm pretty satisfied with that. I guess I'm just not amibitious enough with the body counts. I also thought I'd maybe drop the line “Oh is this your girlfriend? Oh you're married! Sorry I didn't see the ring.” Truly a death wish, but I am a PhD student after all. Much to my chagrin, Kimberly shuffled me out of there with due haste.

As the meeting drew to a close, our liberal thighs were well bruised from us pinching each other under the table in moments of sheer horror and incredulity, trying to express our shock without detection lest we be discovered. I excused myself to the men's room to check my thigh wounds and clear the Guinness when I almost blew my cover. The Social Chair for BYR said that they had been wanting to play paintball as a group, “And we thought it might be fun to invite our counterparts from the Young Democrats!” [General murmur and snickers] “Yeah, I mean, since they're totally against all guns and bullets, we thought maybe we could lead them by the hand to at least this level of firearm proficiency.” [hearty laughter] “But, looks like they don't want to have any of that. I contacted the Fulton Young Democrats and still haven't heard anything from them, so we'll just do this on our own.”

My feet had already welded themselves to the floor at the first mention of Young Democrats, and it was everything in my power not to bellow “Horse$hit!” at his dubious claim of contacting us. Later, when I sat back down next to him, I asked who he had contacted (going out on a limb), and he said “I think his name was Matt.” I have NO idea who he's talking about. “Why,” he asked. “Oh uh, well, um, my uh, my neighbor across the hall is uh, actually the Social Chair of the Atlanta Young Dems. Yeah. Adam. That's who you should contact. Mmm-hmm. I'll uh, I'll mention this when I see him in the hall. Yeah.” (Chug.)

If we don't hear from them soon, I'm blowing my cover and calling their bluff. Do these beamer-drivin' doughboys really want to take on the constituency of south Fulton county in a game where you shoot people? Oh IT'S ON!

We just have to take out Silenced Machine Gun Adultery Guy first.



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