"DICK, VINCENT, MAXINE, JESSE JR., WARREN, AND ME...."
PRINTER-FRIENDLY
VERSION
June 26, 2001
coup2k.com
Salutations, Resistance Fighters!
Are we having fun yet?
Okay, okay... I
know what you are thinking... "I'm
tired of fighting this frickin' coup!
No one is listening! People
don't care! It's summertime! I want to get a tan, and go watch 'Tomb
Raider'! Leave me alone, Diva! Give it a rest, dang-blast-it-all!"
Alas, I cannot.
You see, for most of you, I know something you don't know.
I know we are not alone.
And I don't just mean that we are not alone amongst each
other, I mean that we are not alone amongst the movers and shakers. Though they may not speak out as we do, they
are WELL AWARE of us.
And in the spirit of that disclosure, I give you today's
BBBR Resistance Report.
*Ahem*
Where was I? Oh
yes, movers and shakers...
=====================
RESISTANCE
DISPATCHES
JUNE
25-26, 2001
S.C.A.D.A.
CONFERENCE 2001
A
Post-Conference Debriefing by The Diva
LONG BEACH (coup2k.com) June 25, 2001 - "Wake Up
Democrats! Take Back the Country!"
-- Well, the conference title seemed promising, so I did my Diva Duty, and
ponied up the cash to take part in Southern California Americans
for Democratic Action's 2001 Conference in Los Angeles
yesterday...
Preparations for the SCADA conference, much like
preparations for VoterWest, were still in progress right up until it was time
to hop into the love machine and hit the highway. I was up all night Saturday night, trying to think what
"Americans for Democratic Action" would most like to see at our
table, which I would be sharing with Rose of fringefolk.com, Kim of
VoterMarch.org / VoterWest.org. and Jamie of CounterCoup.org/Trust the People
(accompanied by Billie, President of Dogs for Democracy). As always, I was stumped, and ended up going
with the obvious: buttons, KillCoup
stickers, site brochures, all of the Bush v. Gore SCOTUS decisions (which no
one even looked at), the UN Petition (which hardly anyone bothered to sign),
iron-on transfers of some of the more popular Coup Couture designs, orange
voter rights ribbons (which I pinned on any person who would stand still long
enough, and who didn't mind me putting my hand inside their shirt), BUSHWACKED!
videos, booklets of the "Best of the BBBR" slide show, etc., etc.
The breakfast speaker was Dick Gephardt, and I found
myself sitting at a table with Rose, listening to the House Minority Leader
talk about Democratic priorities -- the environment, education, progressive
taxation -- and about the Jeffords defection (which Gephardt believes signals a
seismic shift in the political terrain in America), all matters which I hold
close to my Diva heart. He had me. We were singing the same song... But...
When he began to talk about the evils of hate, Dick
Gephardt LOST ME.
BIG TIME.
(Because most people would never get past the first
sentence of any such column, I have never written my "In Defense of
Hate" treatise. Maybe now would be
a good time.)
Gephardt began to tell stories about his travels in South
Africa -- stories about wrongfully condemned and imprisoned dissidents like
Mandela, who now live their lives in love and forgiveness... stories about the
parents of a slain youth activist, who now live their lives in love and forgiveness
-- stories clearly intended to advocate for the necessity of political love and
forgiveness, and to advocate for beating our rhetorical swords into plowshares.
This made me intensely angry. I felt the blood rising to my face, the denunciations rising in
my throat... To draw such a parallel felt like the worst kind of "apples
and oranges" talk to me.
You see, I think Dick Gephardt knows that we are out here
-- we who were victimized by this conservative coup -- and that we are nursing
our wounds and our anger, and are not willing to move on. I think it was us that Dick was speaking to,
though he was never specific about that.
I don't know if anyone else who was listening to his
speech (other than Rose) had the same reaction I did. I was dying to shout out, across the crowded ballroom "TRUTH
BEFORE RECONCILIATION! TRUTH BEFORE
RECONCILIATION!"
But I didn't. I
don't know why I didn't. Now, I wish I
had, with all my heart.
I, too, applaud the forgoing of revenge on the part of the
oppressed peoples of South Africa, who now find themselves with the power to
exact retribution. I am impressed by
their willingness to give up "an eye for an eye," and to be better
than those who did their worst.
But I KNOW that they did not make it to that point of reconciliation
without first demanding that the truth be spoken -- that there be a record of
the crimes committed by those who held power, and held it so ruthlessly. Black South Africans demanded and got THE
TRUTH, first.
Here is my defense of hate: Hate is the only honest reaction to injustice when
unacknowledged, unrepented, and uncorrected.
I hate the person who blew up a federal building in Oklahoma City. I hate the people who dragged James Byrd to
his death. I hate the people who
crucified Mathew Shepherd. I hate the
Nazis who snuffed out entire families, and tried to snuff out an entire race of
humanity.
I do. I hate them
all.
There are some acts that do such violence to the concept
of human decency, that hate is the only proper reaction for me. This, I believe, with all my heart.
If the monsters who committed these acts were ever to
confess the dark impulses that drove them to act, if they were ever to take
responsibility for their crimes and make an effort to atone, I could move past
hate. I would move past hate. My heart is big enough... but...
I can no more reconcile without truth, than I can live
without air. That is the way I am
made. I cannot change. I love justice
too much to stand silently by while she is raped, and her rapists are rewarded
for their violence on her.
I hate every person who stole the 2000 election from The
American People.
Must it always be this way? Could I ever STOP hating Scalia, Rehnquist, Thomas, O'Connor,
Kennedy, Bush, Harris...? Yes, I
certainly could, if...
If the monsters who committed these acts were ever to
confess the dark impulses that drove them to act, if they were ever to take
responsibility for their crimes and make an effort to atone, I could move past
hate...
But unless and until that happens? No.
Not a chance. My hate IS my love
of justice, and that is not something I am willing to "let go" of, or
"move on" from, or "get over."
Deal with it.
One big surprise about working the Conference was finding
out that the internet resistance is largely unknown among the Democratic
activists who attended the SCADA Conference.
Most had never heard of fringefolk or VoterMarch, let alone the BBBR.
I was also surprised to hear many activists parroting the
oft-debunked myths of election 2000:
Gore should have asked for statewide recounts. (HINT:
He did.)
Gore's poor campaign was the reason for his loss. (HINT:
He didn't lose.)
And on and on. I
explained the truth to everyone who hadn't yet heard it, but I don't know
whether or not they believed me...
=======================
PART II (Web posted June 26, 2001)
LONG BEACH (coup2k.com) June 26, 2001 - "Wake Up
Democrats! Take Back the Country!"
-- Well, the conference title seemed promising, so I did my Diva Duty, and
ponied up the cash to take part in Southern California Americans for Democratic
Action's 2001 Conference in Los Angeles on Sunday...
JESSE JACKSON, JR.
While Dick Gephardt was speaking about the evils of hate,
my eyes were wandering about the room, looking at the faces of other attendees,
to see if anyone else was having a reaction similar to mine.
As I glanced around, I saw Jesse Jackson, Jr. enter the
ballroom. I leaned over and urgently
tapped Rose on the shoulder to get her attention. I gestured to where he was
standing, and began to bounce up and down in my seat, and clap without letting
my hands touch. Rose and I had smiles
on our faces a mile wide.
Jesse looked over at us, and gave us a three-mile-smile
right back.
Later in the conference, when we were listening to one of
the many speakers, I noticed that Jesse was quietly handing out literature to
people as they entered the auditorium.
I sidled up next to him to get copies for myself.
Jesse gave me another winning smile, and handed me a
brochure for The Progressive Majority (a group which advocates for the
progressive values favored by a clear majority of Americans) which said, in
part, "What future are you willing to fight for? We are at a rare point in our nation's history. A president who lost the popular vote is
headed in a direction opposed by -- and against the best interests of -- the
majority of Americans."
Jesse then handed me a postcard advertising his book,
"A More Perfect Union: Advancing
New American Rights," saying "And here is a little shameless
self-promotion..." to which I replied while flashing my BBBR Button at
him, "Don't worry about it. I'm
guilty, too." (He laughed!)
The postcard included this line describing the book: "The way you feel about elections will
never be the same."
I am pre-ordering "A More Perfect Union," which
should be available any day now.
Vincent Bugliosi...
What can I say about the man that would begin to do him justice? I don't have the words (a rare circumstance
to find myself in, to be sure), but I will press on.
Vincent Bugliosi is an American hero. While most of those in either of his chosen
professions (the law and writing) dissent from the judicial coup in moderate,
conciliatory and subservient tones, bowing and scraping at the feet of the
Filthy Five like whipped dogs afraid of the swift and brutal hands of their
masters, Vincent Bugliosi refuses to be intimidated by their absolute power. He stands eye to eye with the thieves,
unflinchingly calling them by their right names -- "The Felonious
Five." He doesn't just call them political whores, he calls them
CRIMINALS.
Amen, Vincent.
From my first reading of "None Dare Call It
Treason" in The Nation, to my subsequent reading of Bugliosi's book based
on that scathing indictment of the Extreme Court ("The Betrayal of
America: How The Supreme Court
Undermined Our Constitution and Chose Our President"), Vincent Bugliosi
has been my hero, and the champion of my cause -- The American Dream.
If Vincent Bugliosi needed a kidney, I'd give him
one. If he needed someone to, as they
say, "drive the white Bronco," I'd be there in a heartbeat. His courage and his voice mean that much to
me -- everything to me. It is my firm
belief that, when historians write about this dark time in our national
journey, Vincent Bugliosi will be lauded as the guide who held high the lamp of
truth, and helped us find our way out of the murky black void of our wounded
self-governance. He was the first. I believe he will be remembered as the best.
When I found out that Vincent was going to be speaking at
the SCADA Conference, I called to register immediately. I could not miss an opportunity to hear him
speak -- that would be unthinkable -- or a chance to gauge the reaction of
rank-and-file liberals to his message.
When he arrived at The Wilshire Grand Hotel for the
Conference, my first reaction was, "He looks like a human!" (I don't know what I was expecting, but his
approachability floored me. I had just
been rebuffed by Rob Reiner -- after giving him an orange voter rights ribbon
-- and I was not expecting Vincent to move among the crowd like one of us, but
he did just that.)
My impressions of the man, before hearing him speak, or meeting
him personally: Vincent Bugliosi bursts
with the barely-leashed energy and passion of a man on a mission. Everything about his body language veritably
screams, "There is work to be done!"
There he was -- no entourage, no coterie of sycophantic hangers-on --
just one lone man, doing his part to save the world.
Next came the mad scramble to find out where and when
Vincent would be addressing the Conference.
Our first information was that he was NOT going to address the
Conference as a group, but would lead just one of many lunchtime
"break-out" sessions attendees could choose among.
I was FURIOUS. How
could they relegate Our Hero to the B-List?!
Were they insane?! What the hell
was going on around here?!
We four Resistance Chicks began to express our
dissatisfaction with such an arrangement, and I sent a lawyer in an expensive
suit to tell the Conference organizers that they were making a HUGE
mistake. He returned to tell me that
Vincent had (through no lobbying by us) been moved to the regular session, and
would be speaking soon.
Rose came up with the brilliant idea of the four of us
holding signs in support of Vincent and his work. We lettered four 9 1/2" x 12" manila envelopes to read
"WE" "LOVE" "YOU" "VINCENT."
Our signs facing in (so as not to tip our hands), we filed
into the back of the auditorium, and stood awaiting the remarks of the man we
have all come to idolize. Elvis was
about to perform, and we were prepared to give him the full rock-star treatment
-- the recognition he so richly deserved.
We clapped like maniacs during his introduction. We hollered and cheered as he stepped up to
the podium. When he began to speak, we
proudly held our signs HIGH. During his
speech, we made a literal spectacle of ourselves. We whistled, we stomped, we hissed every time he mentioned the
filthy five, we screamed every time he denounced them... It goes without saying that people turned
around in their seats to see what the heck was going on in the back of the
room. A few minutes into Vincent's
speech, Warren Beatty (whom I hadn't noticed up until that moment, was sitting
right in front us, a few rows away) turned around in his chair, and grinned at
us like a Cheshire Cat. I suppose, of
all those in attendance, Warren may have been the only person in the group to
be regularly afforded such mega-star treatment.
Vincent's speech brought down the house. For those of you who have heard him
interviewed, you know what he said. But
seeing him say it, in the flesh, and watching the audience roar their approval
at him, was something altogether different than watching him sit across a desk
from a media pundit and make his case.
At one point, Vincent stopped speaking, because SOMEONE
was telling him to wrap-it-up. He
looked out at the audience, and asked to be given a few more minutes to
complete his remarks. We gave him all
the encouragement he needed.
He continued, until he was stopped again for the same
reason. I found myself ready to do
battle, if that was what was required to let Vincent say his peace.
Again, the audience came to Vincent's aid. (I hate to think what might have happened if
the Conference organizers had given him the hook. I hate to think how I might have reacted.)
Vincent, as I said, brought down the house.
As he ended his remarks, the audience flew to their feet
to give him a thundering standing ovation.
We Resistance Chicks were the loudest, I like to think, and even today,
I am still hoarse...
ELVIS HAS LEFT THE BUILDING
As the roar of the crowd slowly died down, I looked over
to see Rose with tears in her eyes. I
knew exactly what she was feeling.
After all this time -- after being marginalized, ignored, mocked, and
condescended to for our opposition to the coup -- we had heard a powerful voice
speaking to our values, and we had heard that voice praised and its message
embraced. Vincent did that for us. For
all of us.
We got what we came for, and began to file out of the
auditorium, but were stopped by a mass of people clustered around the exit.
We paused, and Warren Beatty stepped up to the podium.
Among his first remarks was this good-natured early
warning, aimed directly at us: "I was sitting a couple of rows in front of
The Vincent Bugliosi Gallery, and I just want to say, I hope you don't plan on
leaving until I'm finished giving my speech." [DIVA NOTE: or something like that.]
How charming!
Alright, then.
We'll stay.
Warren spoke primarily about the need for campaign finance
reform -- a noble cause to be sure, and one with strong support on these pages
-- and read a speech about the future of the Democratic Party written by his
9-year old daughter (the best bit being, "Democrats are the oldest party
in America. Unless I am wrong...).
Warren made the point in his speech that campaign finance
reform, and getting money out of politics, is THE MOST IMPORTANT THING we need
to do.
Well, now... Any
of you who have spent anytime reading my writings from the BBBR Bunker know
that I disagree, but I will quickly sketch for you the reason for my dissent:
Campaign finance reform = people voting for the best,
rather than the best-financed, candidate
Bush v. Gore decision = people's votes do not have to be
counted
THEREFORE
Instituting campaign
finance reform means NOTHING in the absence of voters having the right to cast
a ballot, and to have that ballot counted in determining the election's
outcome.
SIDEBAR: TRIAGE...
Coco went in for her one-month post-radiation therapy
follow-up yesterday, and I asked Dr. Ridgeway, D.V.M., the following question: "If a person brought an animal to you
that was bleeding to death from a laceration, AND dying of lung cancer... Which
condition would you treat first?"
Without missing a beat, Dr. Ridgeway said he would treat
the laceration first -- he would treat the acute condition before the chronic
condition.
(Of course he said that!
You don't think I'd let an idiot treat CoupCat Coco, do you?)
My point is this:
Our democratic processes are wounded, and it defies reason to let the
patient bleed out, while treating the chronic condition of whoristocratic
abuses.]
I'm black, as most of you already know. Granted, I didn't always know this, but it's
never to late to learn the truth. On
January 7, 2001, I formally switched my personal racial identification, due in
no small part to Maxine Waters.
To further document her sudden change in racial
identification, The Diva discussed her response to yesterday's certification of
the presidential election. "I was watching it, and it just became so clear
to me. One by one, members of the Congressional Black Caucus stood to challenge
the electors," she explained, "and I felt a kinship with them that I
can only describe as absolute." Continuing, she asked, "Why didn't I
feel that same sense of community and affection when I looked out over the sea
of white faces looking on? The fighting spirit that lives in me more clearly
mirrors that of an Alcee Hastings or a Maxine Waters, than almost any of those
people."
-- From "The Diva Formally Switches Race,"
January 7, 2001
So, when we got word that my sister was not only in the
building, but was mingling with attendees, Rose and I made a beeline in her
direction.
Though gracious, I could tell Maxine was a little
overwhelmed by all the people bending her ear, and I could also tell that her
assistant was trying in vain to help her move along. Having said this, I still could not let her leave without
speaking to her. Selfish, I know, but I
HAD to.
When my chance came, I handed Maxine a "No Vote, No
Justice, No President" button, and began to tell her how much it meant to
me, to all of us, that the Congressional Black Caucus stood in challenge to the
certification of the Florida electors.
I was babbling, but I finally got my verbal legs under me,
and said to her, "I watched as you were walking out of the chamber, and I
looked into the faces of progressives that I knew wanted to be with you... They were looking away. They couldn't look into your eyes, because
you were Justice that day, and they were cowards."
I can't really describe her physical reaction to what I
said. She sort of jerked, like someone
had given her a shock, and then looked into my eyes, and said, "That's a
powerful statement!"
I felt, at that moment, like the gods had smiled down on
me.
Rose began to speak passionately to Maxine, and gave her a
fringefolk button. I was so emotional
about Maxine's reaction, that I don't really remember what Rose said. But as we walked away, Rose was again in
tears, and again, I knew exactly how she felt.
=======================
Alrightee, then.
NOW you can go warm your belly beneath glorious Helios,
and watch Angelina Jolie give the action-adventure
performance of her
life, with my Diva blessings.
Keep writing me, and KEEP FIGHTING THIS COUP!
{{{PLEASE?}}}
Tammy
"The Diva"
WebMistress of BBBR
http://www.coup2k.com
=======================
June 27, 2001
coup2k.com
Dear Resistance Fighters:
:)
So, read on, intrepid Champions of Democracy, for the
thrilling conclusion...
=======================
RESISTANCE
DISPATCHES
S.C.A.D.A.
CONFERENCE 2001 Part III (Final)
A
Post-Conference Debriefing by The Diva
LONG BEACH (coup2k.com) June 27, 2001 - "Wake Up
Democrats! Take Back the Country!"
-- The final installment of my report from Southern California Americans for
Democratic Action's 2001 Conference in Los Angeles on Sunday...
One of the things I have tried to do on my site, is take
back the language from regressives, reactionaries, propagandists, and media
you-know-whats who have bastardized it beyond all logic or recognition, and who
have pulled many progressives (and most of American society) along in their
wake. In this quest, I have often
turned to dictionaries for support:
-------------------------------
hate [hayt ] noun (plural hates)
1. feeling of intense dislike or anger: a feeling of intense
dislike, anger, hostility, or animosity; "You could see the hate in his
eyes."
2. something hated: something that is hated
[Old English hete (noun) and hatian (verb). Ultimately from
an Indo-European word perhaps meaning "strong feeling," which is also
the ancestor of English heinous.]
-------------------------------
Now, I know it is considered poor form in America right
now to admit to hating ANYONE or ANYTHING.
That is because the denotative (fixed, objective) meaning of
"hate" has been replaced by the connotative (changing, subjective)
meaning, which can be bigotry or prejudice.
When I speak in defense of hate, I am speaking in defense
of hate, as defined.
I intensely dislike the Filthy Five, Bush, and the other
coup-conspirators. I feel anger,
hostility and animosity towards them all.
Not only that, I consider their actions HEINOUS ("shockingly evil or wicked").
If that makes me a bad person in the eyes of some (or
all), I accept that. I plead guilty to the charge of hate. If that means I am doing more harm to myself
than to 'them', so be it. This is the
way I honestly feel, and I will not lie about this to gain the respect or
approval of anyone... Not only CAN'T I change the way that I honestly feel, but
I WOULDN'T if I could. I am proud of my
hate. I think it demonstrates my
values, my morality, and my high personal standards.
When I write, I often forget that not everyone is a
regular or longtime visitor to the BBBR (coup2k.com), and that not everyone may
understand what I am saying, what I mean, or where I am coming from. Mea culpa.
My bad. Please allow me to clear
a few things up.
First, I am black by choice, not by birth, and Maxine
Waters is not my biological sister.
What she is, is my hero, and an inspiration for changing my personal
racial identification -- proudly, and once and for all. What do I mean by this? Well, I'll paraphrase for you what I told
Maxine:
When the Congressional Black Caucus stood to challenge the
Florida electors, and stood alone, and when the media insisted on asserting
that the only Americans who cared about the stolen election were black, and
since America's past racial purity laws defined any person with any black blood
as black, and since we all share a common ancestry (a principle present in both
the Theory of Evolution and the Judeo-Christian creation tale -- take your
pick), I put two and two together -- being the on-the-ball Diva that I am --
and formally announced my change of race.
FUN AT THE EXPENSE OF THE MEDIA
Since I wrote that story on January 7th, many people have
written in to make similar switches, and I have recently even had the
opportunity to act on my change, vis-à-vis the mainstream media. I was called as part of CNN's Telephone
Survey regarding the Resident and his appointistration's policies (you can, I am
certain, guess the nature of my answers to the substantive questions asked of
me), and part of the information being gathered was demographic
information. That portion of the
interview went something like this:
CNN: Are you
Hispanic or Latin American?
DIVA: No.
CNN: Are you
white, black, or Asian?
DIVA: Yes.
[Long Pause]
DIVA: [Feigning
surprise] Oh! Did you want me to choose
one?
CNN: Yes, please.
DIVA: I'm black.
[Long Pause]
DIVA: Hello...?
Yes, I did tell Maxine about all of this (remember my
remark in Part II about "babbling?"). I told her about my race change, about others following suit, and
about having the chance to flummox the CNN pollsters. She seemed to get a kick
out of it.
A sense of humor must run in the family... [DISCLAIMER: And I don't mean nuclear family...]
At the conference, I had one of "those"
moments... You know, one of those
moments where serendipity puts two people in the same room -- people that have
a strong connection for you personally, but who have no idea you feel that way
-- and that reality tickles your funny bone?
Well for me, at SCADA, those two people were Rob Reiner
and Robert Reich. You see, on March 11th of this year, Robert Reich wrote a
column pronouncing the Democratic Party dead, using the "Dead Parrot"
shtick from "Monty Python" to make his point. I disagreed with his assertion (I am, after
all, a Democrat, and very much alive, as far as I know), so on March 13th, I
re-wrote a scene from "The Princess Bride" (Directed by Rob Reiner)
to make my point.
It's probably a good thing that Rob Reiner blew me off, or
I might have ended up babbling this story to him...
While at the conference I met many Resistance Fighters who
don't hold the high profile of a Maxine, or Warren, or Dick, or Jesse Jr., or
Vincent. One such Fighter that I spent a considerable amount of time speaking
with was Eric Jacobson of censurethefive.org.
This is a group committed to lobbying for a censure resolution
in the United States Congress, as a first step towards restoring the balance of
power shattered by the Bush v. Gore decision.
I want to encourage every one of you to visit their site, and support
their effort by writing your Congressional Representatives (remember, snail
mail is better than e-mail).
Censurethefive.org argues that now is the time to begin laying the
foundation for ultimately holding the Filthy Five accountable for their
actions. I wholeheartedly
concur...
And now comes the hardest part of the story to tell, the
part where I meet Vincent Bulgiosi.
I considered omitting this story from my report
altogether, or omitting significant portions of it, because relaying some of
Vincent's remarks might seem self-serving (to me).
After kicking it around for another day, I've decided to
tell the story as I remember it, and let the chips (and Resistance Fighters'
opinions of me) fall where they may...
Here goes...
While tabling with Rose, Kim, and Jamie (accompanied by Billie),
I saw Vincent Bugliosi across the room from us, signing an autograph. I had brought his book to the Conference
with me, along with Dershowitz' new book, to encourage others to buy and read
them.
I also brought it because I wanted Vincent's autograph. I can't tell you how much...
I grabbed one of my many clipboards and a pen, and
prepared to make my way to him. Before
I could, he began to make his way toward our table. (In the interest of clarity, our table was by the stairs leading
down to one of the building's exits.) I
don't remember if he came to the table of his own accord, or if my holding his
book and a pen in my hands was the same thing as my pulling him to our table,
or if I said something to get him over there...
Once there (and I am not exactly certain of the sequence
of events, or of exactly what was said, so I am paraphrasing), I asked for his
autograph, trying not to gush unduly.
He graciously took my book and pen, and asked me my name. I said, "Tammy" (it didn't even
occur to me to say "The Diva!"), and he asked, "Is that
T-A-M-I?" To which I replied,
"No, T-A-M-M-Y... My parents were not very creative..." (See? Again with the babbling! You put me within arm's reach of a personal
hero, and I get the reverse of tongue-tied!
I swear, when I am nervous, I chatter like novelty store dentures!)
"Not at all," he said, "It's a pretty name
for a pretty girl."
[DIVA NOTE:
Vincent Bugliosi: Heroic AND
charming! {{{SIGH}}}]
I said to him, "You know, you are Elvis to us -- to
the movement. You don't know how much
you mean to us. You are our hero."
"Don't say that," he admonished me. "I did what I did out of rage."
[DIVA NOTE:
See? That is the passion I spoke
of earlier... Such a down-to-earth, approachable man, but such FIRE!]
Speaking to us Resistance Chicks, he said, "You are
the ones doing the heavy lifting, and I appreciate it. Really I do."
Jamie agreed with him, but I did not...
"I am no one, and nothing, so I have nothing to
lose," I said. "But you...
You've risked everything. You have a
career, a lifetime of work, a reputation -- so much to lose..."
At this point, I believe, the other ladies joined our
conversation. There was talk of the
media blackout and the need for continuing action, of his online radio interview,
of many things...
At some point (I don't remember exactly when), I gave him
a SCOTUS Devil Button. He glanced at it
quickly, then did a double-take to look at it more closely, and let out a
surprised laugh with a big smile.
I felt like the sun was shining on my face! Vincent found my button amusing!
Could this day get any better?
The conversation ended, and I suddenly realized that we
would be the last people Vincent spoke to at the Conference, because he was
headed for the stairs and the exit...
Did everyone know our hero was leaving?
Were they paying attention?
I wanted to send him off in style, and with no doubts as
to how we felt about him and what he was doing, so I started clapping as though
he had just finished speaking.
Immediately, the other Resistance Chicks joined in. (I got the
impression that we all had the same idea spontaneously, and mere nanoseconds
apart -- if that.)
The applause that we had begun spread through the floor of
the hotel like a wave, growing in volume and intensity. Soon, we were shouting, "Run for
President, Vincent!" and "We love you Vincent!"
He turned back and waved to our table, and then he was
off, to his next stop on the Vincent Bugliosi Save the World Tour, 2001... The hottest ticket in town, if you ask me.
BYE, SIS...
When Maxine Waters made her exit, we didn't have nearly
the warning that we had with Vincent, but at least we had practice.
Suddenly, and out of the blue, Maxine was passing by our
table, smiling as she went...
We burst into applause again, and the floor of the hotel
followed our example again... We sent
Maxine off, to do her good and urgently needed work for The People, with shouts
of "When you decide to run for President, send a shout-out, and we'll all
come work for you!"
She and her assistant seemed tickled pink at our
outpouring of affection, and our offer...
As I mentioned in Part I of this report, I had stayed up
the night before to prepare for the Conference. This, coupled with the emotional roller-coaster of the day's
events, and the thrill of meeting such wonderful American heroes, really took
it out of this Diva.
I was fading fast, let me tell you, and I had a 40-minute
drive between me and my bed in the BBBR Bunker. The Conference, too, was winding down. The atmosphere was a lot
more laid back than it had been, so... I laid back. Flat on my back. On the
floor next to our table. I was
exhausted, sleepy, and... dare I say it?
PUNCHY. I called out, "Help! Our democracy's fallen and it can't get
up!" (A situation that I don't
find funny in the least... though I was giggling groggily.) In an e-mail to me yesterday, Kim of
Votermarch mentioned that, while sprawled out in this undignified fashion, I still
reached my hand out toward people pausing at the table, and said,
"Hi! I'm Tammy, The Diva of
coup2k.com, The Bush Brothers Banana Republic..."
[DIVA NOTE: ...And
you can dress me up, but you can't take me anywhere!]
=======================
So, unless I think of some witty anecdote or wonderful
vignette I've neglected to share thus far, you have now read my complete report
on the SCADA Conference, and my adventures there
And to answer my own question of yesterday...
"Yes, though it is beyond my meager understanding, I am having fun
fighting this coup!"
Just call me "Diva Croft, CoupRaider!"
Tammy
"The Diva"
WebMistress of BBBR