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I attend some speech in a big ampitheatre in a semi-official capacity (I’m helping with sound equipment). Afterwards I find myself walking alongside the man Diebold’s machinery claimed was elected President in 2004. We don’t speak, but I can overhear his private asides. I’m relieved that, as I’d always hoped, he sounds less idiotic in person; and I’m surprised and delighted that he shows flashes of the sort of jocular humility and awareness of his own failings that Al Gore displayed in An Inconvenient Truth.

“We’re seventy-eight,” he says [”we” meaning he and his wife, who with typical dream illogic is named Barbara, not Laura] “so I guess we’re still deep in our seventies.”

Then he refers to a remark made by a liberal journalist about the notion of Senator Orrin Hatch holding the chief executive office (Brrr!!): “He said if Chris were president instead of me, it would be like trading President Slurr [I’m pretty sure he meant to say “slurry”] for President Beans.”

(I don’t know why he refers to “Orrin Hatch” as “Chris,” unless perhaps it’s a private joke inspired by the sitcom Everybody Hates Chris.)

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