Solid like Barack
I remember the conversation I had with my friend Loren McArthur when Florida was called for Gore.
"Gore's really going to clean up the environment."
"We won't be allowed to drive anymore."
"Or throw things out. Or go to the bathroom."
"You can go to the bathroom, but you have to recycle it."
"You'll have to wear a contraption that captures your waste and recycles it."
"Then you can eat that."
"Yes, you'll have to eat that. It'll be this goop, which you'll just recycle right up and eat."
"Gore Goop."
"Gore Goop. And you can put it in your car."
I remember the smug blond Republican aides outside the Dade County courthouse, grinning and chanting and pretending they were a spontaneous mob. I remember James Baker flying down to Florida and lying, lying, lying. I remember Lars-Erik Nelson, the excellent political writer for the Daily News and New York Review of Books, dying in his apartment that month of a heart attack. I always assumed it was in front of the television, watching Baker.
It was the beginning of eight bad years.
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