The Road Diary, Part I
By William Rivers Pitt

The road is an education, especially when you have to pass through fifteen airport security checkpoints with a laptop festooned with campaign stickers from every Democratic candidate for President in 2004. You learn to read faces, and places, and when it is wise to wear the t-shirt that reads “I’m sorry my President is a moron” in seven languages, and when to leave it in the bag.

I haven’t left it in the bag yet, but when that metal detection wand took an extra-hard pass across my privates as the security agent read about George’s idiocy in Farsi and French, I must confess to having had some second thoughts.

I spoke in Phoenix about Iraq, about the Patriot Act, about the September 11 report, about getting people motivated, about hope, about the fact that George is raising sixty zillion dollars for his unopposed 2004 Presidential campaign because he knows, and the fellows in his crew know, that he is beatable, and that he is going to need every dime of that campaign money to hang onto the job he has so thoroughly despoiled.
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