Meeting Michele Bachmann for the First Time

  

[The Following is excerpted from Profiles in Courageousness.  If you enjoy this blog, you're going to want to pick up your copy today.]

 

At this point, I was feeling toxic. Nobody wanted to talk to me and I just wanted a giant hole to swallow me up. What had I gotten myself into? My only friend was in the other party and his play in the NFL gave me absolutely no confidence in our relationship. When the moment finally came for us to take a short break, I welcomed it. I did what I did back in California when times were tough; I headed outside to be alone with my thoughts, or as alone as I could be on Capitol Hill.

As I stood on the porch, lost in my own thoughts, I failed to notice a woman approaching me. She was a raven-haired goddess, her black and white checkered shawl covering her simple black dress, but her conservative attire did nothing to hide the fact that this was a woman. Her perfume had hints of lilac and gardenia with just a small note of russet potato. I have always remained reasonably faithful to my wife, but I admit at that moment, I lusted in my heart.

“Don’t let Pelosi get you down,” she said, putting a comforting hand on my shoulder.

“I try not to, but I really wanted to make a good impression on my first day on the new job,” I said.

“Well you made an impression, but believe me, Pelosi is Un-American. I hope to have public hearings where we can weed out any Anti-American members of Congress for the good of this country. I hope you’ll support me,” she smiled.

“I definitely will. I think we’re cut from the same cloth. I’m Jack Kimble,” I said offering her my hand.

“It’s nice to meet you, Jack. I’m Michele…Michele Bachmann from Minnesota,” she said, shaking my hand warmly.

“I’m from California,” I replied, “but I was educated at Notre Dame, so I’ve spent time in the Midwest.”

“You’re not one of those California moderates, I hope,” she said looking me over carefully.

“No more than Ronald Reagan was,” I smiled. “I like my meat red, my cigars Cuban, my women subservient, and my cartoons GI Joe.”

“I like you, Jack Kimble. I think I’ll be keeping an eye on you. I expect to be hearing a lot from you in the next two years,” she said.

“Two years? I thought it was four!” I questioned.

“Four is the president, Jack,” she said, “We only serve for two before re-election.”

“Son of a ****”, I cursed. “This day is going from bad to worse.”