The only thing more frightening than being caught in an angry mob of health care protesters is revealing to that angry mob that you work for the Huffington Post.
On Thursday, I ventured down to Capital Hill with a professional death wish. I was going to mingle with a group of tea partiers to get a sense of what, exactly, keeps their clocks ticking. For two-and-a-half hours, I got the Glenn Beck treatment -- accused of, among other things, subverting freedom, working for a communist propaganda outlet, and having a soulless devotion to slander and scandal.
One woman picked up her items and moved away -- taking her family with her -- after I settled down on the Capital's front lawn. At another point a man, who seemed generally concerned about my safety, whispered in my ear: "You're a sheep amidst the wolves in this crowd, son."
And yet, a funny thing happened on the way to Rep. Michelle Bachmann's (R-Minn.) "Super Bowl of freedom." I was adopted -- in a way -- by a group of tea baggers. Sure, the politics they spoke seemed dripped in abject paranoia. But there w