Lileks: Is a caucus inherently anti-Minnesotan because it involves talking about feelings?

If you went to your caucus, you might have felt that swell of pride you get when Minnesotans turn out to vote. Look at all these civic-minded people, exercising their precious franchise! Standing in line in the cold, dark night, gusts of steam floating over the line as they discuss the event to come — proud, educated, wonderfully stubborn, passionately involved citizens. Gladdens your heart!

As for everyone who's for the other candidate, GO HOME.

Just kidding. But the caucus process seems a strange fit for Minnesota. Oh, we love the basic, grass-roots character. You imagine a Norman Rockwell image — some rawboned fella standing up to grasp his lapels with one hand, the Constitution in the other — and say, "I might not be a fancy big-city lawyer with all those fancy words, but I know what I stand for, and that's the guaranteed right of all Americans to walk around the house in their birthday suit without drawing the drapes. Tell me where it says in this here Constitution I have to close the drapes."

Yeah, maybe it's better as a painting.

Here's the odd part: getting together to talk about how they feel is not always easy for Minnesotans. But there is a political exception for our emotional reticence. And it also seems that after Minnesota men pass 65 they will tell anyone what they think about political candidates.

"Don't tell me that senator's any better than the rest of them, young lady. I've been around the block a few times and seen some grifty pigstickers, and he's as mean as they come."

"Yes, sir. Please drive to the first window."

Then you talk about changes to the platform. Have you read the platform? No. You have a life. It's on the list, but it's below "floss the cat's teeth." You can intuit the pith of the gist you infer from the general stuff your party believes. It's not like there's a plank calling for everyone to get a free parakeet. Even if there was, fat chance it has getting through the Legislature, what with the Canary Lobby.

But what if one day someone hands you a box and says, "Here's your parakeet!" You'd think: Maybe I should have spoken up.

I was tempted to speak about the platform. This is where you stand up, tell people about an issue everyone says is a lost cause. You hit the point, hammer it home until heads start to nod and you realize things can change. This is how these things start — one man, one room, one speech, and before you know it, the entire party agrees: Shamrock Shakes should be available year-round.

They're delicious. So is democracy. It's a natural fit.