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LA Women

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It was an LA kind of day yesterday. A good friend flew in from LA to visit family (took the redeye so we didn’t connect), but the girlfriend and I had been planning to go out anyway. Our choice was one of our favorite local pubs which is typically not crowded on a Wednesday. That’s alright, as we like the bartender, and prefer to sit there so we can talk to her and the conversation is invariably good. However, last night, shortly after we sat down, two other women came in and sat down near us. I noted with approval that one of them ordered a Martini (it turned out to be vodka) and the other had a snifter of Irish Whiskey. The girlfriend had a Manhattan and I had my signature Martini (made with gin, now and ever). Slowly, the five of us were drawn into one conversation.

They were from LA. This was their first time in Boston, and it was an accident. They had been going to Chicago for St. Patrick’s Day, but apparently the JetBlue deal to Boston was too good to pass up. And so they had landed, checked into a hotel I’d never heard of but is apparently nearby, and wandered around. Once it began to snow, these two California girls ducked into the nearest place – the same pub. I must say, they were rather forward and inquisitive, and it wasn’t long before we all knew a bit more than expected about perfect strangers. They both worked in non-traditional occupations for women – Vodka Martini was a firefighter and Irish Whiskey a longshoreman (her term and as I later learned she had the muscles to back it up, who am I to contradict?). I might point out these were not Moxie’s libzillas – unwashed and hairy – but two lovely women, acquainted with hygeine, and nicely dressed. Eventually the conversation had to turn to politics.

It started out easily enough. Vodka Martini had been injured on a training exercise and had some pointed things to say about how Governor Schwarznegger had cut back on workmen’s comp programs. When dealing with people from California I always assume they’re liberals until proven otherwise, and having lived in Massachusetts for so long, I know how to handle these situations. First, one asks questions in a curious, but slightly clueless tone. Eventually, the liberal will say something that either contradicts something they said earlier or makes so little sense that even they notice if it’s pointed out. It is at that point that one drops ‘the question.’ No longer clueless, this is the question that exposes the complete illogic of liberal thinking. One of two things will typically happen at that point. The liberal will either start calling you names (sometimes subtle, sometimes not), or they will try to change the subject. In this case, however, Vodka Martini surprised me – much to my delight. I asked her: didn’t California need to change its fiscal approach if all her programs were to be funded in the face of bankruptcy and lack of eastern bond money? Her response – it was a liberal to be sure – was that we don’t want to change the system because we like it. True, the answer is a bit “pie-in-the-sky,” but it was honest, and suggests that Schwarznegger is fighting a losing battle. Certainly neither of these LA women thought he would be reelected.

There was some talk of illegal immigration – they’ve had enough of it, and then we turned to to the 2008 election. I proposed a scenario for them: sometime after the 2006 midterms, Vice President Cheney steps down, the President nominates Condi Rice to succeed him and she’s confirmed by the senate. Hillary Clinton wins the Democratic nomination in 2008, and they face off. Vodka Martini tried to turn the scenario in a feminist direction, saying that “women would be blamed” for something, but I persisted. “That may be so,” I said, “but one of them will win.” (As you can tell, Irish Whiskey was the quiet one.) There was some hesitation about how “conservatives would never back a black woman” to which I replied that many conservative bloggers were already behind her, and they represent real grassroots support. The conversation continued in this vein for a bit longer and then, in a much smaller and quieter voice than she had been using, Vodka Martini suddenly said, “I guess if it came down to it, I’d vote for Condi.” Irish Whiskey nodded her agreement.

Ha! I thought to myself. Victory is sweet, but then I realized I had won nothing. All I had done was force two feminist LA women (a firefighter and a longshoreman) to fess up that they would vote for the Republican over the Democrat in this case. Admittedly unscientific, and indeed, basically random, but for such a poll, not good news for Hillary.

It was a lovely evening.

Written by martinipundit

March 16, 2006 at 11:52 am

From Dorothy Parker

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I like to have a Martini, 
two at the very most, 
after three I’m under the table, 
after four I’m under the host!

Written by martinipundit

June 26, 2004 at 12:03 pm

Posted in Cocktails

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