, who went on a great riff, pointing out that Anderson was clearly appealing to MAGA—assuring them he was on the front lines protecting women from an onslaught of trans people.
In other words—hate, hate, hate. From the party that brings you nothing but hate, hate, hate.
Salem recalled her dad taking her to a Sox game when she was four or five. It was a long game. And a kid’s gotta go. And so he did what any dad—other than Senator Anderson—would do. He took her to the men’s room.
That reminded me of a moment, many years ago, when one of my daughters was about five. I took her to Arlington—yes, the old racetrack. Oh, it was just a fun outing, MAGA. Please don’t judge me. And whatever you do—don’t tell Senator Anderson! Just in case he’s got something against that.
At one point, she declared, “Daddy, I gotta go.”
But when I took her to the men’s room, she said . . .
“I wanna go to the women’s room.”
A choice for which I’m sure Senator Anderson would approve.
We waited outside the women’s bathroom, looking for a friendly face to offer assistance. When I found one, I launched into a plea, “Please escort my daughter into the bathroom.”
To which my daughter said, “Daddy, I’m not supposed to go with strangers.” So . . .
The woman looked in the bathroom and came back to tell me the first stall was vacant. And my daughter and I dashed in and she did her business. And then we started to dash out, when my daughter said . . .
“Daddy, I gotta wash my hands.”
So I stood by the sink for what seemed like an hour, but was probably only a minute, as she lathered, rinsed, and dried her hands.
Thank goodness, Senator Anderson wasn’t around. Or he’d have beat the living piss out of me.
MAGA, I swear, even you must realize how ridiculous you sound.