Send in the Democrats ... and clowns too

Clear the way, boys! Stand aside, kids! Put that dog on a leash, lady! Because here come the Democrats, all tall and tan and as happy as puppies, marching back to old Dee Cee.

There’s a baton-twirling Ted Kennedy at the head of the parade winding up Pennsylvania Avenue, and that’s Joe Lieberman carrying Old Glory, and isn’t that Bill Clinton playing “God Bless America” on the alto sax? John Kerry is wearing all his war medals for everyone to see, and dang if that isn’t Barbara Boxer and Dianne Feinstein doing back flips and reverse spins as majorettes!

And, wow, look at the clowns! They’re everywhere.

It will be good hearing from them again now that the war is over and the passions of the people are subdued, and it’s safe to speak up without fear of losing votes or contributions. It’s like a Marine assault division just now landing at Iwo Jima. Impressive but late.

I know a lot of you are wondering just where in the devil the Democrats were in the days both prior to and during the war with Iraq, when the debate was heated and the protesters were begging for a liberal to lead them. Only old Bob Byrd had the guts to challenge Dubya during those trying times. Well, yes, Jimmy Carter wrote something for an op-ed page, but it wasn’t exactly on a level of “Give me liberty or give me death.” More like “Give me mo’ time to think about all this, y’heah?”

Back to the basic question, it’s now safe to reveal where the fighting Demos were during the great debates. I’ll tell you where. They were in a magic kingdom storing up the strength and courage needed for the wrangling ahead. It’s called Whateverland.

I became aware of this when I tried placing a call to the Great Liberal, that would be Al Gore, demanding to know why he hadn’t led the parade of peace marchers in the days when their right to be heard was being challenged by war-mongering, drum-beating Bushicans.

Somehow the wires got crossed, and I was hearing a conversation in baby talk. It occurred to me as I listened that it was in code. But since I speak baby talk fluently, I learned of the existence of Whateverland. It’s a place where whatever one says is correct, where no one needs a point of view, where the pork barrel is always full, where the plain brown envelopes slipped into a congressman’s hand are always in designer shades, where female interns all look like Britney Spears and where everything is geared to be understood by anyone with an IQ under 87.

A portion of the entertainment in Whateverland involves a learning hour, artfully intertwined with the fun to offer lessons intended to better qualify Democrats to function in a Republican world. In one room, choreographers teach them how to tap-dance around social issues, thereby making the synaptic connection between evasion and survival in an election year. In another room, a magician skillfully employs an illusion that causes Democrats to disappear during times of peril. Now you see ‘em, now you don’t.

There are cocktail lounges and dark little bistros, and even classes in doubletalk taught by generals who have given up war in order to appear in makeup before the television cameras of all the major networks. It’s almost like being on a cruise.

After visiting Whateverland, when a liberal leader is asked where he was when the people needed him, he’ll be able to reply in a strong and authoritative voice, “During times of dubitancy, when war threatens and the citizens demand ineluctable, planetary-based answers out of the box, there is a tendency to remember Pearl Harbor in bifurcation and to be grateful that the American Way remains the very essence of the exiguous elements that comprise freedom during seasons of anality! Liberty is secure when armies march and the Navy fights to separate the sexes aboard our brave warships. Thank you and God Bless America.”

The speech course is based on elements extracted from comments by Jerry Brown and Yogi Berra and explained in some detail in the last book of Richard Nixon, “Misspeaking for Dummies,” into which category many Democrats fall.

You’ll be able to hear them very shortly as they take to speaking platforms across the nation, strengthened by their R&R; in Whateverland and well taught to juggle words and phrases that inspire, explain, clarify and pop like bubbles in the pale blue sky.

But, hey, if we didn’t have postwar marchers, as the old joke goes, who’d clean up after the elephants? So clear the way, boys and girls, frustrated war-haters and leaderless rebels, here come the Democrats back to Dee Cee, tumbling and back-stepping and toe-tapping along the way. Stand aside! And be sure to leave room for the clowns.

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Al Martinez’s column appears Mondays and Fridays. He’s at al.martinez@latimes.com.