The lack of decor at the Democratic Party headquarters in downtown Phoenix was in stark contrast to the colorful array of posters and ubiquitous American flags in display at their rival Republican digs across the street.
It was if the Dems had resolved to take their medicine--a loss of every statewide race from the top (Governor Jan Brewer) on down---by adopting a minimalist motif.
That philosophy, unintentional or not, may hold the state's minority party in better stead in the coming few years if they want to rise from the proverbial ashes of a decidedly nasty spanking at the polls..
Governor Brewer spoke in front of a enormous Arizona flag after Secretary of State Ken Bennett lauded her for "taking on" (evil personified) President Obama, the U.S. Attorney General (unnamed), and (those damned liberal activist judges) "the Ninth Circuit."
Stop the presses, Brewer spoke with passable syntax as she blathered for minutes with husband John and one of her two surviving sons in tow.
No "have dids" on this particular night for the unlikely governor in a state that's had seveal improbable top bosses over time, including car dealer, failed newspaper publisher and certified flake Evan Mecham, and Arizona Softball Hall of Famer Rose Mofford, she of the great white beehive hairdo
"Tonight the calvary has come riding over the hill," she started, which sounded more palatable than saying that the Mexican cartel has scaled the danged fence to behead our fair and noble citizens..
"Tonight we foreclosed on a house -- the one that used to be run by Nancy Pelosi," spitting out the outgoing House Speaker's name like the Wicked Witch of the Southwest.
Running with the tacky foreclosure schtick--and not to ruin the good vibes by invoking the name of W, short for George W. Bush, under whose historically disastrous watch the home repo rate in Arizona and nationally ran amuck--she spoke of foreclosing a little joint on 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, where a fellow named Obama currently resides.
Brewer got weirder as she continued.
"We know what we are and what we are not," she said, and "we are not the subjects of an arrogant and overbearing government."
No, we are the subjects in Arizona of an arrogant and overbearing government for whom children, education, mental health, and anything under the rubric of "social justice" are at the very best an afterthought for the Legislature and this governor.
Brewer made a passing reference to "phony scandals and smears and other artificial things," by which we figure she meant the stuff about her criminally insane son Ronald, that slipping out of a DUI incident from some years back, and the quirky (still unsure about this one) thyroid health issue.
But then it was back to placing our faith "in a loving God" (and in his ability to get those activist SOBs who, God forbid, interpret standing case law), to follow the good old "rule of law" (contradiction in above two comments duly noted), and to take advantage somehow of those unspecified "treasures left by our forefathers."
The weirdness was in full force by now.
"It's just a cause worth living for," the governor said about something to do with American principles, if only because our military heroes have found that same cause "worth dying for."
Janice Brewer, who ascended to the top job when Governor Janet Napolitano took the Homeland Security slot in D.C. after Obama assumed the presidency (doesn't that seem so long ago?), finished with this:
"Let's go together and surprise the world with what we can do."
We tremble at the thought.
Oh, yes, Terry Goddard.
He spoke of going camping with his wife and young son, and taking it easy for awhile as he contemplates his next move,
The loss makes Goddard and recently dumped Minnesota Vikings receiver Randy Moss available for employment opportunities, effective immediately for Moss and soon for Goddard.
Maybe if the outgoing Attorney General had shown evidence of the mouthy Moss' chutzpah on the campaign trail, things might have been a little closer than the trouncing he took.
Then again, future Hall of Famer Moss never saw a middle linebacker coming at him over the middle like that perfect storm dubbed Senate Bill 1070, an historical piece of legislation that rudely shoved Mr. Goddard into probable political oblivion.