2000nov08. Gore’s retched Flint speech. What an ass.
In the first, he told supporters, a voter wakes up with a splitting headache and hears a pounding rain mixed with sleet and hail hammering on his window. “The sky is so dark there’s hardly any light. You stumble out of bed. Your knees are sore as you walk toward the door and stub your toe,” Mr. Gore says. “You open the door and the newspaper is stuck to the step, frozen by the sleet, soaked through and through. “You peel it off and hold it up to the light and all you can see is – ‘Bush.’“ Mr. Gore tells booing supporters there is another option. “On Wednesday morning, just before you awaken, a golden shaft of sunlight flickers on your eyelids,” Mr. Gore says. “You hear the chirping of birds on the windowsill. Your senses detect the scent of fresh-cut flowers on the table by the bed. It mingles with the aroma of fresh-brewed coffee wafting in from the kitchen. The radio is playing your favorite song, and you leap out of bed just feeling great,” he says. “You dance your way to the front door and open it as the sunlight warms your face. You pick up the paper and it says: ‘Gore-Lieberman Win.’“