In the melee of the insatiable, frenzied Obama-fucking that currently is D-town, Colorado, there are glimmers of opposition – fratty, white heads that suddenly poke out of holes, making one wish he was clutching a Whac-A-Mole baton. They are McCain supporters, and whether you like them or hate them, they’re here. En route to downtown with a buddy of mine, Jim Hickox, we pulled up to a red light outside the performing arts center, only to be accosted by McCain boosters holding signs and waiving at us. They were Chads through and through, and were exhibiting a zeal typically reserved for date rape. It was one of those uncomfortable, homeless-guy-on-the-corner moments, where you try to pretend you don’t see the guy even though he knows that you see him and then all involved hate themselves and each other and the world. But borrowing a page from Jim’s joke book, I decided to remedy the situation.
“Hey I love John McClane!” I yelled out the window. “Die Hard rules!”
The steak-head duo leading the group looked at each other in astonishment, then slowly processed the information.
“Die Hard does rule!” one yelled back.
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