My name is Sir Bacon.
And I am a Republican.
Well, registered Republican.
It’s been that way for as long as I can remember.
Even though I rarely seem to vote that way.
Obama.
Voted for him.
Kerry.
Voted for him.
Clinton.
Voted for him.
And I would vote for her too.
“So exactly what part of Republican are you?”
Good question.
Deep down, I think I believe in the principles of the Republican Party.
You know.
What’s mine is mine.
And what’s yours is mine.
But when it comes time to hang my chad, I just can’t pull the trigger.
And if you can’t pull a trigger, you are not a true Republican.
But that doesn’t mean I can’t play one on TV.
You see the Republican Caucus recently came to my town.
Specifically an elementary school right around the corner from my house.
The invitation was taped on my door.
It came from Ron and Steve.
And they shared the same last name.
I’m assuming they were brothers.
After all, they are Republican.
The invite said that the festivities would start at 7pm.
Sharp.
Which they did.
Unfortunately I didn’t arrive until closer to 7:20.
And by the time I got there, all of the Presidential talk was done.
I’m sure it went something like this.
I love Mitt’s hair.
I love Mitt’s name.
Ron Paul has two names.
Let’s vote Santorum.
With that out of the way, we moved onto the other items on the menu.
Like... Who Wants to Be a Delegate?
Our version of... Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?
Only this room was filled with Republicans.
So everyone there was already a millionaire.
There were a total of 52 people in the room.
42 Men.
10 Women.
1 Asian.
The others were as white as they come.
In fact, the room was so white, there was even a couple there named White.
Now I’m not sure if the fact that 51 of the 52 in our group were caucasian is more of a sign of it being a Republican Caucus.
Or the neighborhood I live in.
But either way, I fit right in.
As long as I didn’t mention that I was Jewish.
The first step to picking our delegates was listening to a 30-second pitch from each of the dozen candidates.
Each candidate came prepared.
With a pre-prepared zinger.
“I want to fumigate the White House.”
“This is our country and we need to take it back.”
“I believe in the Constitution.”
“I used to live in Upstate New York. That’s when I was a Democrat.”
“I was raised in Springfield, Illinois and I learned a lot from Abraham Lincoln.”
You mean the guy who freed the slaves.
Are you sure you are in the right place?
One of the speakers claimed to be an author.
He said he sold his books at gun shows.
And Tea Party rallies.
He didn’t look familiar to me.
After we voted in our delegates, it was time to propose some resolutions.
We were told that any passed resolutions would go directly from our dry erase board to our local Republican party.
Then to the state Republicans.
Followed by the federal Republicans.
And if any of our resolutions make it all the way to the Dems.
Then they would go straight to the shredder.
But it’s not about the end result.
It’s about the process.
“This is how you can have a voice in the party,” we were told.
“This is what the Republican platform comes from.”
And the whole time I thought it came from Fox News Channel.
From our room, there were three resolutions proposed.
One opposed “all forms of gun control.”
One wanted us to “repeal ObamaCare.”
And one said poor people should pay higher taxes.
Ok, I made that one up.
But it could've happened.
According to our master of ceremonies, all three resolutions passed.
“With very few no votes.”
I guess I qualify as very few.
The meeting lasted all of 68 minutes.
And despite what you’ve been reading for the last 664 words, I really did enjoy myself.
I’m not sure that I am any more Republican now than I was before the Caucus.
And I’m certainly not any more likely to vote Republican in the next election.
But it did feel good to spend an evening surrounded by people I have absolutely nothing in common with.
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