One Word

The blistering hurricane of political rhetoric finally dwindles.

The thousands upon thousands of voices shouting each other down in a din of talking points slowly decreases. As it does, individual voices start to emerge.

First, a chorus of dozens, then a few.

Then, at the end of the night, balloons and streamers now being swept up, lights turning down and clicking off, one voice remains and echoes in the minds of Republicans everywhere.

As operatives, spear-chuckers, researchers and spinners drift off to sleep the dead sleep known only to those who have worked political campaigns, one voice - that of George Allen - repeats a single word.

Slowly, monotonously and yet, each reiteration is a painful, melancholy repeated affront:

macaca

macaca

macaca

macaca