Democracy howled each evening this week down Greensburg's North Main Street. On Wednesday we stood outside Westmoreland County Courthouse and watched America happen, Officer Veto and me.

Eighth-graders and old-timers, lesbians and librarians, and a boy dressed as Spider Man stood together on the corner waving Kerry signs, shouting and chanting slogans at passing traffic.

Across the street, outside Republican campaign headquarters, a similar squad of Bush enthusiasts gathered, most of them college students, veterans and retirees. They all shouted and hooted and traded thumbs-up and other finger signals as two state routes' worth of honking, shouting traffic flowed by.

They've been at this every day for weeks, and the decibel level is climbing as the election draws closer.

"They ought to be ashamed of themselves," Veto said. "Bunch of lunatics. Found themselves a legal place to yell their heads off. Loud mouths. I bet none of them is even registered to vote."

Welcome to Westmoreland County, U.S.A., a swing county in a swing state where party passions trump suburban decorum and stump poll-takers.

I am a cranky old reporter with a deep disdain for politicians, so this wide-open populism is a wonderful, refreshing thing to witness.

Recent years made me think the unruly political beast that gave us Tammany Hall and the Whiskey Rebellion had been tamed down to an ill-tempered, star-spangled poodle. But in this county, the 2004 election is giving me glimpses of the filthy wolf that lives beneath that poofy haircut.

Dirty politics is everywhere, filling the air with mud and meanness that makes the presidential race look downright dignified.

At home the flyers ooze through the mail slot and land with a splat. Most show a nice-looking Hempfield man who wants to "bring our traditional Westmoreland County values to Harrisburg."

If that's not scary enough, consider the incumbent. The flyer says he communes with homosexuals and people from Philadelphia. He voted for tax increases. He doesn't understand that gas is expensive! Lions, tigers, bears! My mild-mannered state senator is suddenly revealed as the boogyman himself.

I step out my door and see a sea of yard signs showing this electorate is nothing if not open-minded. The same yards boast Bush banners and signs for Democratic state Sen. Allen Kukovich. There's no party loyalty on these lawns.

The streets are alive with jalopies spray-painted with slogans or duct-taped bumper-to-bumper with campaign signs. Teens roll by, their skateboards plastered with candidate stickers. Highway intersections are colorful mosaics of campaign placards, changing daily as passing waves of vandals, thieves, and partisans remove or paint-over some and plant more.

Sign-printers and billboard-owners are making fortunes. Telephone and electric utilities, caterers, and cigar-sellers are raking in the profits of all the late-night push-polling, partying, and back-slapping.

Discourse is flowering. Our "marketplace of ideas" lately resembles the floor of the New York Stock Exchange. Presidential debate is breaking out in barrooms, courtrooms, beauty parlors, yoga studios and faculty meetings. Voices are being raised in Sunday schools and surgical suites. Vocal voters are being thrown out of barbershops, restaurants and birthday parties.

A few days ago a Penn Township man explained thus the half-moon cut stitched below his eye: "I was tending bar. Some guys were shooting pool. They started talking about Kerry and Bush. Kaboom."

His was an exception. Thank goodness most of the political discourse hereabouts hasn't turned physically violent.

And these days, the shouters on Greensburg's Main Street are keeping to their own sides of the road. Coordinators from both parties say they brief their sign-wavers on appropriate behavior. But when passers-by join in, the interactions sometimes spin out of party control.

That's when real free speech takes over.

From passing cars Bush supporters honk and shout out four-letter references to Sen. Kerry. Kerry supporters respond in kind. Finger salutes and the occasional "moon" appear. Some cars circle the block for a second chance at self-expression.

So far the activities have caused no injuries, but a honking, gesturing trucker last week mowed down a curbside "Don't Walk" light when he overshot his turn.

On toward sundown it's a free-for-all out there, a celebration of self-expression and party spirit and community. It's hard not to pick up a sign and start shouting along.

A great time is had by everyone. People come back, day after day, and yell till their voices are gone.

This is America. This is how we do things here -- or at least how we used to, before issues and ideals morphed into Good vs. Evil platitudes sold by cynical spin doctors. Back when every vote meant something.

Westmoreland's a wonderful place to be this year, with Greensburg's lowdown, grass-roots democracy bellowing in the street, from the mailbox, the front yards and the radio. It proves to me that politics still is a passionate, wild-eyed animal after all -- a mongrel that snaps and barks and wildly wags its tail.