We were screaming and jumping up and down, three o’clock in the morning. The people back home had been protesting, and the protesting put pressure on the representatives [in Congress], and the representatives put pressure on ol’ Tricky Dick to get his butt up out the White House. I know a lot of people say it was a dark day for America, but isn’t that democracy working? Wasn’t that a glimmer of hope that truth could check power, and isn’t hope the entire point? The reason any of us raise our fists and run our mouths? The reason we dare to imagine a “better” exists?
