A rainy day in Orange County.

"Veterans March Irvine" was marred by weather. But the moisture failed to dampen patriotism.

I didn’t really want to go.

I hate admitting such, because it’s pretty soft. But earlier this afternoon, with temperatures in the low 50s and a steady rain falling upon my roof, I decided that I would forgo attending the 4 o’clock Veterans March Irvine in favor of napping on my couch.

And so it was settled.

I pulled out my favorite blanket.

I softened my pillow.

I prepared to recline.

But then … I thought about it. Thought about it some more. And a bit more. Veterans March Irvine … I mean, that’s some sacred turf. Veterans. People who fought for our country. People who set aside their lives to defend the United States. People who have experienced scenarios most of us can only imagine. What kind of turd would I be (and what kind of political website curator would I be?) to skip Veterans March Irvine because of a little rain? Hell, that’s the type of nonsense Donald Trump has literally pulled. I am no Donald Trump.

So I rose from the couch, wrapped myself in a sweatshirt, windbreaker and ski cap, climbed in the car, drove the half hour and pulled up to Irvine City Hall.

Thank goodness.

There were, oh, 100 or so people, positioned on four corners of a street outside the building. Many held signs. Some waved American flags. There were chants and bellows and supportive horn honks. What the event lacked in size, it made up for in spirit. In determination. In resilience. In take-it-to-The Man derring-do. A solid number of veterans wore hats identifying their status of service members. This was done so with pride.

The go-to guy was Nick Carter, a U.S. Navy vet and event organizer. We spoke, and it’s worth your time …

And even though rain surely lowered attendance, it soaked nary an inch of sense of purpose. The people were here because they’re pissed. Pissed at Donald Trump. Pissed at Elon Musk. Pissed at a Department of Justice that makes a mockery of its own name. Pissed that the freedom of speech soldiers fought and died for has been bastardized by an orange aspiring Viktor Orbán (one with five draft deferments, no less). They marched because, in dark times, it beats sitting at home. There was a sense of community. Of kindred spirit. Of unity. Of oneness.

Yeah, it was cold.

Yeah, it was wet.

But in the fight for America’s soul, raindrops are the least of our worries.