One day my man will come. He’ll be tall (or maybe short) broad-shouldered (or maybe slight) with a full head of flowing locks (unless he’s bald.)

One thing I do know is that he’ll be a rip-snorting progressive/liberal who will stand up in front of the nation’s video cameras and tell the truth. His eyes will flash the fire of outrage and smoke will pour out of his ears as he describes how my country was nearly dealt a death blow by criminals.

He’ll speak the truth about this corrupt political system we’ve got in this country. He’ll kook right into the camera’s fish-eye lens (ignoring the fish-faced media-drone standing alongside with a microphone and a pre-printed list of “gotcha” questions furnished by Corporate Headquarters) and he’ll say “The republican Party in this country is a pack of lying, stealing, skeaving warmongering poodle-fucking baby rapers. Each and every one of the national and state republican politicians would go to their children’s funerals and steal the pennies off their kids’ eyes.”

He won’t be afraid of the pearl-clutching bullcrap the republicans have trademarked. In fact, as one of them gets the vapors over what he said, my hero will gently push the Victorian fainting couch out of the way with the toe of his shoe, whistle innocently, and murmur solicitously when the faker lands on his fat wallet.

One day my man will come. (Sure my man could be a woman, but it won’t be Hillary Clinton, unfortunately.) Until my man comes I’ll just content myself with Dan Hartman fronting up the Sorels.

Sunday Morning Video Blogging