Honk to Impeach

By Bob Feuer, Great Barrington, Mass.

Having discarded the trash at the Stockbridge Town Compactor Station, I picked up two rolls of new stamps at the Stockbridge post office, and sent off twenty-two typed letters to Congressman John Conyers, Jr, and the members of the House Judiciary Committee, I headed for my last errand before the Honk to Impeach in neighboring Great Barrington. It was a beautiful late Spring day, and I had to deliver a batch of salsa I had made for a picnic for the Community Health Program's new nutrition center.

Jessica Derr, daughter of one of my wife's co-workers, had written here entrance essay for the Berkshire School high school on why George Bush did not deserve to be president. Jessie, now a college student at Wagner on Staten Island in New York City was helping her mom and others to prepare for the picnic. I invited her to come with me to the Honk to Impeach, and she was eager to jump into my car.

Jessie was so captivated by what I was up to. She helped me to set the sign's stakes into the ground, and get the sign affixed to the stakes. After the first two staples went in, and we were opening it to the middle post, a kind passing lady motorist told us it was upside down, oops. My son, Max, came by and helped me get a tool to remove the errant two staples, and we then got it right. Below is a photo of Jessie with John Lippmann, proprietor, Stockbridge Booksellers, the presenter of the impeachment resolution to the Town of Great Barrington.

John, Jessie, and I watched and waved as motorists passed for over one and one half hours. I was so happy to have them there for moral support, but quickly I learned that at least forty percent of those that drove by provided me with what my heart craved. They were honking to impeach. The big diesel horn blasts from the semi's were so uplifting, and there were periods when the horns blared on for minutes at a time.

Certainly, there were the very few who quickly identified their single digit mentality. I developed a great desire/ fantasy to have a large classroom, where anyone who passed without a honk would have to go straight into the classroom for a constitutional refresher course.

Jessie took this one of me with the GB Hedges trimmed out behind me.

Jessie and John beaming with pride.

Here's the Town Moderator of Stockbridge, MA, Gary Johnston, passing by and seeing the Honk to Impeach sign.
He called over to me, "Bob, we've got to find you a job, you have too much time on your hands."

After a while Jessie went back to help her mom prepare the picnic, and John and I stayed on to observe wives reaching from the passenger seat to honk the horn while their hesitant husbands drove the car. It is fairly clear that women are less reticent, and younger folk are more apt to honk to impeach. And the coolest dude on his Harley low-rider laid on the horn button with his left thumb while he gave us a free-handed high sing with his right hand.

As six o'clock rolled around, and John and I began to roll up the eighteen foot sign, folks kept on honking until only the letters "CH" remained visible. My rolled up sign is ready for tomorrow's Honk to Impeach in Pittsfield, MA., 5 - 6 pm.

You people just have to try this, I spent $16.84 on paint and supplies, and it is absolutely addictive. Every time a horn honked, energy rushed through me, my arms waived, and I found myself bouncing up and down.

"The price good men pay for indifference to public affairs, is to be ruled by evil men." Plato, who knew!

Save your republic, honk to impeach, you will be amply rewarded!

Make impeachment your intention.