MSNBC – Democrats blast Iraq war policy in Rice debate“I don’t like impugning anyone’s integrity, but I really don’t like being lied to,” Dayton said, “Repeatedly, flagrantly, intentionally.”Once again my sources in Washington were able to bring us further details on this story.Mark Dayton was angry, but he was also afraid. He felt betrayed by Dr. Rice. However, finding that holiday weight gain was making his tailored suit uncomfortable was even more irritating. Crouched beneath the desk in his Senate office, he realized that he could not stay in that position long. His belt and abs were betraying him. Where could he go? After fleeing the city during the last dangerous period, when his foes were out to get him and his own family had feared for his sanity under the great pressure that was the lot of the Senate’s most courageous maverick, the right wing press had a field day. They had mocked him for running, little knowing the danger in which he lived. Just today, in the elevator, he had noticed a shifty glance in his direction from the young man near him, a young man he had not seen before in that elevator. He had pressed his anti-bugging device in his pants pocket, but he knew that it was no protection against invisible rays or mind control devices.However, he had to stay in Washington, even his most trusting friend told him that. The press would not let him leave again. He was, of course, not afraid for himself, but he was a target. A target for every hater and right wing crack pot in the world. His staying placed the entire city in danger, but so it would have to be.Mark Dayton had taken on Dr. Rice on the floor of the Senate. He had boldly called her bad names. Dayton had become red in the face and been firm, a blow no one could safely ignore. His vast national following, Dayton’s Army, would threaten Rice too much. He knew how this White House worked. He had seen the very, very angry looks some Republicans had given him. His life, Mark Dayton’s life, so critical to the progressive cause was in danger. Rice would be angry. She would call him names in private. People would hear those names and might act. Like Beckett in the Cathedral, any apology would come too late. His desk had been armor plated and under it he was safe, but he had not counted on being heavier. He hugged Scruffy the stuffed bunny tightly to his chest. He had to stay calm and in command. His staff demanded it. He ceased chewing on his thumb and cleared his throat. His secretary stopped pacing. Just one sound from under his desk could bring such calm!”I am o.k.” he called to his worried advisors. He would endure the pain, for which a just society would give him combat pay, in order to stay alive and working in his role as the Scourge of the Senate. Tomorrow, well tomorrow, he was going to call the President, “a nasty fellow who is often wrong.” Bold? You bet. He was Mark Dayton and that was his way.
Essay / Politics