Conservicon

I walked into the local café today at the tale end of a heated discussion. Country Bo and the other regulars were complaining loudly about the stimulus bill. About the time I finished breakfast, the other regulars left for work or wherever and Country Bo ambled over to my table with half a slice of pie and half a cup of coffee.

“Lemme tell ya, Bo-ah. This country is goin’ down the tubes! We’s headed for socialism now the Dems have taken over.”

He took a thoughtful sip of coffee then squinted his brows at me.

“And this stimulus bill. Eh! What the tarnation is it gonna stimulate? When Dubya gave me money, at least he gave me six hunnert dollars up front. What’s this bill gonna give me, bo-ah? Do ya know?”

I had to confess I hadn’t been paying much attention to the particulars.

“It’s gonna give me six hunnert dollars, too, only as a tax break spread out over the rest of this year. Do ya know what that works out to, bo-ah? A dollar eighty-six a day! Heck’s specks, bo-ah! A dollar eighty-six won’t even bah me a slice of pah!”

The mention of pie reminded him of the uneaten portion of his current slice. He stopped talking long enough to finish it off, then washed it down with more coffee. He waived for the waitress who hurried over to top his cup off.

“Refills is free,” he said to me with a sly wink. I nodded. Yes, I’ve heard.

After a few more meditative sips he screwed his face up and banged the table with his fist.

“Dadgummit! Ah hates socialism! Ya know the difference between a communist and a socialist, bo-ah?”

I shook my head no. Guess I never thought about it.

“A socialist is a communist who got elected!”

Well, that seems as reasonable a definition as any, I allowed.

“Dang it, Ah shore do hate to see Obama take the country this way.”

I noted he pronounced the President’s name as if it rhymed with Alabama.

“They’s gonna socialize medicine. Did you know that, bo-ah? It’s in that stimulus bill. The gummint is gonna decide whether Ah kin git medical care or not. We all know old folks lak me is gonna be left out in the cold. Why do ya think all them Canadians come here for medical care? Cuz their gummint is in charge of the medicine up there. Dadgum bureaucrats decide if you git medical care or not. And more’s likely, they gonna decide you cain’t git it!”

He stopped to sip coffee a while, brooding in thought.

“Ah shore do hate to see it, bo-ah. Ah fought communism for this country! And now it’s come to this.”

My ears perked up, hoping to hear a good war story or two. Where did you serve? Korea? Vietnam? He shook his head.

“Against Deloris Kovoravitch. That woman is a communist! Ah he’ped keep her off the school board last year.”

I nodded as I stood up and made to pay my tab.

“She was terrible Ah tell ya. And Ah knows she voted for Obama. She had a sign for him in her front yard!”

As I went out the door he was still ranting about the communist, Deloris Kovoravitch. Since I’d gone, he’d shifted his verbiage to the waitress who came to refill his coffee once more.

The last thing I heard as I went out the door was the waitress joining Country Bo in a dressing down of Ms. Kovoravitch.

“Deloris was in mah class in high school. Ah knew she was gonna be liberal when she did her senior paper on Karl Marx …”

John Conser Country Bo stimulus bill

On a recent morning I stopped by the local café for a late breakfast and found “Country” Bo alone and hungry for conversation. Country Bo and the other regulars chat up a storm each morning. The locals were gone this late in the day, so Country Bo was happy to find someone new to restart the conversation.

Not sure if the café makes a whole lot of money off the morning crowd since most just drink coffee. Country Bo is a notable exception thanks to his fondness for pie. I found him finishing off a slice of pecan pie, and nursing a fresh cup of coffee.

“Refills is free,” he said when I sat down. “This is mah fifth!”

Country Bo is old, approaching 80. The dome of his head is bald, and pink from working outside without a hat. What little hair he does have is close-cropped and white. His blue eyes are sharp, and they dance with merriment everywhere they look.

I put in an order with the waitress, and asked Country Bo what he thought about recent events in the news.

“Yup. It ain’t change. It’s more of the same. Crooks in both parties, ya ask me.”

But, I said, Obama said he’d have the most ethical administration ever.

“Bah. They all say that. Then they all git in trouble, like that Blago dude. If you keep yer mouth shut, you don’t get into as much trouble. But them politicians cain’t he’p it. They gots to say stuff lak, ‘This will be the most ethical administration ever.’ Lookit, we knows y’all’s gonna be crooks. Just keep yer mouth shut and don’t lie to us about it.”

That’s pretty harsh stuff, I said. I’m sure that not all politicians are crooks. But Country Bo is big on broad generalizations.

Moving along, I said something about the tax troubles that sank Daschle’s nomination to head Health and Human Services.

“Aw, that ain’t nothin’ really. Heck, I still owe back taxes on mah place. It was the Treasury fella who sunk ol’ Daschle. Had Daschle gone up first, they’d’a passed him along just like they did for the Treasury fella. But afterwards, it was too late. The bar had done been set.”

That’s an awfully conciliatory tone, I said. I thought maybe you’d hold a harder line on those folks, seeing as how you think they’re all crooks and everything.

“Lemme tell ya somethin’ bo-ah … Warshington is a tough place. Cou’n’t pay me no amount of money to work in that town. No sir. Lookit all the stuff you gots to go through when you run for national office. Lookit what they did to Sarah Palin and her family. They puts you through a wringer, and for what? What do you get out of it? Whole lot of nothin’ but grief, ya ask me.”

I nodded and thought about how this statement lined up with his earlier one about all politicians being crooks. It seemed Country Bo might be holding opposing points of view simultaneously. I shook it off and decided not to confront him about it. Switching topics, I brought up the stimulus bill. Looks like the Senate is close to a compromise, I said.

“Politics as usual,” he said, waving his fork. “It ain’t gonna help nobody but them politicians who bring home the bacon.”

He waved at the waitress. “Darlin’, Ah’d lak another slice of pee-can pah.”

I winced inwardly at the sexist remark, and smiled at her. I asked if she gets tired of being called “Darlin’.”

“Honey, if I got mad at everybody who called me ‘Darlin’, ‘Sugar,’ or ‘Sweet Thang,’ we wouldn’t get no business around here.”

I shrugged. She and her husband own the place. He cooks in the back while she waits on tables up front.

Later as I finished my meal, Country Bo downed his seventh cup of coffee and his fourth slice of pie. I asked him how he was doing in this down economy.

He squinted one eye, poked me in the ribs and said, “Lak the song says … ‘Country Bo kin survive!”

I left, thinking that wasn’t quite how the song goes …

John Conser Country Bo