Best we could do redux

Yes, it seemed as if Texas was not only cut off from the country, but Amarillo was cut off from Texas, and there in that little room we were cut off from the entire world, starved for news, for oxygen, for any idea of what was going on anywhere except the shooting gallery on the other side of the wall.

But after Spacedark had left in justified frustration more people started to show, and once ABC finally began to broadcast the returns and the Senate and House seats began their Blue-shift, excitement began to build among the small band of citizens gathered in that little isolated room.

Texas stubbornly remained Red, not entirely surprising though hope springs eternal, and Amarillo remained most Red-faced of all. Though spirits were dampened by local losses, they were buoyed by party victories elsewhere in the nation, by Democrats on their way to regaining the House, and to coin a phrase, giving a “kick in the pants” to Republican senators who were so deserving of a resounding defeat.

Once ABC trundled out George Will to calm the quavering fears of a Republican nation, it seemed the Disney executives were quietly admitting the once slumbering peasantry were storming Sleeping Beauty’s Castle and the enchanted, fantasy charmed leadership inside. But as we have seen in our home state the Red barons are holding firm in their redoubts, and have the leaseholders still convinced that only they can keep them from being blown to bits, being taxed out of their homes or having immigrants take their jobs.

And why not? Just compare the pictures on-line at the Globe-News between the two Party parties. Look at the fabulous soirée the Republicans put on compared to the pitiful Democrats. What citizen wouldn’t support Ana and Mac just to bask in the safe warm glow of the big screen TV, or vote against single-member districts to beg a few scraps from the bounty of their table? It is a fine display brought to you courtesy of the Ambassador’s working wi-fi access -- for a fee.

As the evening drew to a close in that little room at The Big Texan some were choked up. Defeat has its sting no matter how great the gains made against the opposition. No doubt the victors heartily cheered and applauded across town in their grand salon. But there are now cracks in the gilded façade. While the oligarchs eat cake, nibble caviar and wash down crab canapés with champagne the fake Schloss Neuschwanstein around them begins to crumble, like the formidable Bastille, pulled down block by stubborn block.