“Jimbo, where do Republicans come from?”
The question was posed by Max, age five. We were on our way to the High Temple of Dinosaur Fossils in New Haven: Yale’s Peabody Museum. Sometimes there are long breaks between questions and answers in our travels.
I was hoping for a dinosaur related question… like, “If a Tyrannosaurus Rex and a Triceratops got into a fight — who would win?” I guess I should be thankful. At least he didn’t ask, “Where do babies come from?” But knowing Chris and Beth (Max’s parents), he probably already knows where babies come from. Something that took me thirty years to figure out.”
“Where do Republicans come from? Did you ask?”
What brought this up? Republicans? Pretty impressive. This kid has a great vocabulary. That’s Chris and Beth. Max already has a better vocabulary than half the adults I know. *UCH* Cornell Winston (no relation) for my Ninth Grade English! We had twenty vocab words to learn each weekend… spell correctly and use in a sentence. I can remember it like yesterday. I hated it. “Plethora.” Who the hell can use it in a sentence? Or what syllable to stress when saying it? I should ask Max if he knows what it means; but he would probably correct my pronunciation…
I think I heard someone using “plethora” in a sentence on Face the Nation or Meet the Press. Some “expert” referred to a “plethora” of social and financial woes facing this country. He could have used “myriad” or “shit load” or a “quagmire of nightmarish complexity”. But no. We got “plethora”. I bet he pronounced it wrong! Mr. Smarty-Pants-in-a-coat-and-tie-on-Sunday-morning!
Gag me with a spoon.
You know, if Max asks me where babies come from, I’m going to tell him “Costco Aisle 3, behind the display of synthetic Native American sweat lodges!”
“Do you mean where do they live? Or how did they get their start?”
I think my question caught him off balance. I could have simply replied that it was the Political Party of reform founded in the mid-nineteenth century… that Abraham Lincoln was its “spiritual father”… and that Lincoln is probably turning in his grave over how far his reform minded Party has plummeted.
“Jimbo… No. Where do they come from? Are there any in Hingham?”
Maybe Chris and/or Beth are closet Republicans and he is thinking of “outing” them? Or maybe he’s the closet Republican and he is embarrassed by his parents’ liberal views. Maybe he is just trolling for kindred souls in Hingham?
“OH… I thought that you meant — do they come from the Triassic, Jurassic or the Cretaceous?”
Look… we’re going to the Peabody, right? Let’s get the kid focused!
“Jimbo… can we go to the Gift Shop first?”
Back on track! Still, this Republican stuff shouldn’t be ignored. Maybe his Pre-K program had a “civics” section? When I was his age the reigning Republican was Dwight Eisenhower. Back then I didn’t think of him as a Republican. To me he was a bald guy who smiled a lot and played golf in a shirt with a little alligator embroidered on it. It looked like being President was a pretty good job.
If Max asks me where dinosaurs come from that will be easy… eggs! Or eggs from California!
“Gift shop? Sure. But the Peabody Museum Gift Shop has a ten minute rule. And its strictly enforced. If you haven’t selected something in ten minutes they make you leave… and they keep your money.”
Republicans must come from eggs. Eggs or pods… like the kind from Invasions of the Body Snatchers. Hah! And I know where it begins! At Mason’s Fresh Farm Market on Route 25 in Monroe, CT. The fresh produce is merely camouflage for their true purpose. They grow plants in terra cotta pots. Look to the left on the far side of their house… you can see the staging areas. Two different levels covering about a half a football field. The young plants are in smaller pots on level one, then they are transferred to bigger pots on level two prior to distribution. Each pot is individually hooked up to a network of tubes. For water? Fertilizer? Or something more dastardly? Yeah, they’re hooked up like those terrifying plant-like seed pods in Invasion of the Body Snatchers! What a film. Dana Wynter expressing fear, “I don’t want to live in a world without love or grief or beauty”. Sure, Kevin McCarthy running down the road trying in vain to warn people. “They’re here already! You’re next!” His message being ignored. Well, what do you expect from California’s citizenry?
“What’s your favorite dinosaur Max? Mine is the Triceratops!”
“Jimbo… ‘tri’ means three.”
This kid is too smart. If he starts reciting Thomas Aquinas in Latin, I’m pulling over, giving him the keys and walking home.
Yes,yes. I’m sure of if now. It’s Mason’s. That’s where it starts. I drive by that place first thing in the morning before sun rise. Sometimes I see a light coming from the basement of that creepy house that sits between their produce stand and their “growing fields.” I bet that’s where they produce the special cultures and yeasts for making Republicans. Then the raw materials are dried and stored in grain sacks marked “greed”, “intolerance” and “patriotism on the sleeve” and then they put it into their water supply.
“Jimbo… are we almost there yet?”
“Yep… we’re in New Haven.”
And you think that geranium or chrysanthemum in a terra cotta pot is innocent… don’t you? These plants are carefully endowed with all the necessities for making true Republicans… simple house plants capable of taking over body, mind and soul! Then these insidious plants are distributed to an unaware public. Transported to places like Greenwich, then to Andover, then to Yale, Skull & Bones, then to Texas… and then to the White House!!!
“They’re here already! You’re next!”
“Who’s here already Jimbo? The dinosaurs?”
“No, Max. And if you want to find Republicans… go to Costco, Aisle 3. There is a plethora of them there… just behind the geranium display.”
“Is plethora like a dinosaur nest?”
“Not really. And remember… just ten minutes in the gift shop.”
Hey! He didn’t correct my pronunciation. Haa-hoo!