March 3, 2019

I rode away from Bernie’s new office/campsite with a heavy heart. As best I could see, Bernie hadn’t learned anything about the reality of the Democrat National Committee during or since his 2016 contest for the Dem’s presidential nomination.  However, he had learned that he did have a base of believers in his brand and he could raise a significant amount of money from that base.  He had a group of products that seemed reasonable to me but he didn’t seem to have a clue as to what they were going to cost or sell for, much less how to market them. Hubris was loping along in the Vermont woods listening to the few late-winter birds chirping and I was feeling the need for a shot or two of Lefty’s back-woods Kentucky bourbon when, like a bolt out of the blue, a possible solution hit my brain and almost knocked me out of the saddle!

   I was going to introduce Bernie to Howie!  Bernie had the idea’s, but didn’t know anything about pricing or marketing them. Howie didn’t seem to have any clear idea’s, but his business success proved he could price and sell anything—even as simple as bad coffee and overpriced cookies! I also quickly realized there was a good chance that Bernie would bring in the millennial’s and the #Me Too woman’s business and Howie already had a millennial following and just might attract the white male middle and upper-class buyers. I was basking in undeserved confidence in my solution when the reality of what the composition of the 2020 market would look like overwhelmed my day-dream. My dream-team didn’t have a female member. I dis-mounted Hubris and sat my butt on the nearest flat, but very cold, Maple tree stump I could find.

    It didn’t take long (because of my cold butt) and I had the idea of trying to establish a tripartite presidential team. I realized that it had never been done before but that’s what caught my fancy. I had heard about a California pol named “Kamala Harris” and she seemed to me to be just the kind of woman whom I could “pair” with both Bernie and Howie.  If trying to do that the “shit would hit the fan”, so much the better. I had nothing to lose but my country and Hubris’ cookies. So, after Hubris and I found a telephone booth (which took a long time in the Vermont woods), I put in a long distance call to Kamala in California.

    I don’t want to ruin a good evening or this report on my endeavors. So, I’ll save the rest of this story for next week when I report on the results of that phone call to Kamala, in California.

So for now, Its, Hi Ho Hubris, Aaawaaay!

                                          Copyright © Louis J. Christen, March 3, 2019

The Lone Curmudgeon Writes Again