I expect that one day, months from now, these who were left behind, who represent a great part of America, the part that is home, the part that is society without the gloss, the part that clings to what is basic to man's nature, will have impromptu versions of the New Orleans style funeral, and this will go on for decades to come, off and on, here and there, in little clubs and large, on street corners and in churches and in rented rooms, above the streets that have gone strangely silent.

How many votes do you think you can win from a man when you call him a moron? He knows you call him a moron, believe me. He knows, and it is one of the reasons he doesn't want to hear anything you have to say.