In his day, my father was a Barcalounger man. Back then, America had Chevy men and Ford men, Budweiser men and Ballantine men, Barcalounger men and La-Z-Boy men. He was a working class guy who provided for his family, a World War II veteran who took part in the liberation of Paris, an average Joe who drank a 16-ounce Ballantine or two while he read the newspaper in his recliner after a hard day’s work.
He was a Democrat, but I’m not sure what he’d be today. Maybe an anarchist.