Rick Perry in Greenville

I initially went downtown to hear the local band Palmetto Swamp Congregation. They were just setting up, so I decided to walk on down to the park. In front of city hall, there was a good-sized mob, with [Texas Governor Rick] Perry signs held aloft. He's inside, talking to the mayor!--they burbled happily, as one unit.

I waited with the mob until he came out, and then I followed the mob down the street alongside copious TV cameras and curious onlookers.

From the brief display I saw? He has it sewn up. Even five months before the South Carolina Republican primary, I will give the primary to Perry. (And let me remind yall, she said modestly, I called it right the last time.) I have never seen such fawning in my life. Mayor Knox White was stuck to him like a proverbial dingleberry on Perry's derriere. (He is the one glommed onto Perry in all of these photos; photos #6 and 7 include Perry's wife, Anita.) People shook his hand and beamed approvingly at him. One man anointed him the next president in a loud, booming voice, and the mob murmured their assent.

One young woman, who identified as an Army wife, passed out a well-written critical assessment of Perry that she wrote herself (I exhorted her to start blogging!), and I grumbled at regular intervals to one of the photographers (who snorted derisively along with me), but I didn't see any other dissenters besides us three lone voices, crying in the wilderness.

It's pretty funny now, but when I was young, the Secret Service (and their many friends, imitators and rent-a-cops) used to land on me like they did Travis Bickle in Taxi Driver. They would walk right up to me and ask point blank, What are you doing here? (Aside: I also learned to give fictional answers from Travis.) They would dog my ass the minute I showed up anywhere; it must have been the way I looked. But now? They ignore me totally. I don't dress appreciably different than I used to, so what is it that makes them all ignore me? Age, it must be. Middle-aged women are deemed harmless. Look how close to him I got!

The way he stopped to mug with every dog and every kid was nauseating. Although he genuinely seems to like dogs, and as you can see, decided to stop at the Barkery Bistro (photo #4) to check out the doggie-retail bizness. See those mobs? (The second mob is in front of the Carolina Ale House.) The crowd loved him. (Aside: He's really short.)

Finally, thunder and lightning cracked, kaboom, and I chortled to onlookers that God was obviously mad at Rick... (yes, this is the cutting-edge political wit that has landed me my radio gig, yall!) ... and although I got one hearty laugh from a girl selling beer at the beer-booth in front of the Palmetto Swamp Congregation stage, the rest of the crowd was rather grim and didn't appreciate my theological commentary AT ALL.

The rain drowned out my band, but Rick was still going strong and glad-handing people as I left the scene in a downpour.