One of the fascinating things about the early years of blogging, when people of all social classes were looking around for entertaining discussion in which they could participate, was the convergence of socialites and socialists around the Cindy Sheehan encampment outside the George W. Bush ranch.
For about a year, I engaged in delightful repartee with genuine blue-bloods from Austin to Charleston, whose interest in the drama involving Gold Star mothers and the Bush administration was their revulsion for the Bush family -- likewise blue-bloods -- whom they considered utterly crude.
Reading their blog comments and follow-up personal correspondence, I imagined them as young Miss Daisies, riding around in chauffeur-driven cars, appalled at the horrendous state of affairs precipitated by the 2000 presidential election coup in Florida.
I miss those pleasantries and daily distractions that we enjoyed in the midst of the total chaos brought on our country by the psycopaths and sociopaths that occupied the White House, where they or their ancestors had probably dined with presidents in years past.
Perhaps they were FDR or JFK aristocrats, accustomed to noblesse oblige as a matter of good manners, if not revolutionary intent. The aristocracy, as I learned through those engaging and intimate discussions, is not monolithic. Thank god.