Grand Old Party animal

I had lots of good suggestions, like hiding the life-size cutout of Bush. "I think you're right," said Linda Boyd, the chairwoman of the L.A. County Republicans and, more impressive in terms of party loyalty, the mother of a girl named Reagan. I also suggested we get some kind of food to bribe people with, a technique I noticed was very effective at the Iowa caucuses. "We've tried several different gimmicks," Boyd told me. "We've had lemonade and balloons for the kids. We're shameless." We looked through the coolers Boyd bought that morning for the volunteers and found one half-eaten box of chocolate chip cookies.

I was armed with a clipboard with a sticker on the back that read, "Los Republicanos Registrense Aqui," which going by the Spanish I learned from "Sesame Street," means "The Republicans 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12." Shirley Baldwin, who has volunteered at naturalization ceremonies 10 times, told me to congratulate everyone walking by and make eye contact. After 10 minutes of pure failure, I finally locked eyes with Guadalupe Anguiano, who agreed to come by and fill out the forms for her blind mother, with whom the eye-contact trick was a total bust. The daughter told me I was doing a fine job, but when it came time to fill in the bubble indicating party affiliation, she chose the Green Party. I had not only failed the GOP, I had failed phenomenally. "You did fine," Baldwin said. "You got her to be a part of the American system. Then it's up to the candidates." The Obama-Clinton fight really is making these Republicans cocky.

Next, I lured Michaeline Wilkins to the table. She was a harder sell, even after I gave her a cookie. "Tell me about Rush Limbaugh," she said. I explained that Rush knew a lot about recreational drugs, an issue Democrats usually get all the credit for. Then stupid Bishop Mendez started talking about how the Republicans are the party of the poor. I countered that it was actually the party of the filthy rich -- people she wanted to be around. I told her that Republican country clubs are way better than Democratic ones. "I don't think Republicans are the party of poor people," she said to Mendez. "That would be a bad thing." She finished her cookie and filled in the GOP bubble.

By the end of the day, we'd registered about 300 people. And although I didn't get into any deep philosophical debates about libertarian principles, unless you count the Rush Limbaugh thing, I felt good about registering new citizens to vote. Because even though they were being bombarded at a celebratory moment when they were confused and vulnerable, they got to see how vibrant the democracy they signed up for really is. In America, their vote is worth $6 and a cookie.

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jstein@latimescolumnists.com