Call it a party game that we've been enjoying, somewhat perversely. Republicans started it, insisting on repeatedly calling their opponents the "Democrat Party," making sure they really leaned, vocally, on the "-rat" at the end.
It's all so childish, of course, as is answering back in kind -- which makes it all the more irresistible to tickle, and such rich fodder to tackle, for our discussions down at Hack's BBQ Shack.
We are a loosely-collected rabble of bloggers that hole up at that ancient, ramshackle spot of gustatory delight, in Washington, D.C., where George Washington himself -- and maybe the British before him -- likely had the original pulled pork, baked beans, cole slaw, and cornbread so good you did not think it could exist in this flawed old world.
We online scribes gather at Hack's for sustenance, support, and solace. We also gather to lick our figurative wounds -- along with the salt on the rims of our margaritas -- usually self-inflicted bits of mental shrapnel, souvenirs from tangles with topics we start to care far too much about. Or, just from life in general.
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