I don’t think it’s a good idea to reveal too much about yourself on a blog. I mean, after all, there may come a day when you are compelled to run for a political office or at least accept an appointment from an elected official. But recently, I feel actually very compelled to make a few “confessions” of a sort. These are very personal and in some cases a bit embarrassing, but in the public’s interest, I will go ahead and reveal them. I hope you don’t think too much less of me.
The first confession is that I did not know very much about George W. Bush the first time I voted for him. I knew a lot about his Dad and Mom whom I still respect to this day. Both were the last generation’s finest contribution to the White House and their grace and leadership are missed very much each day. Don’t get me wrong, I see them without the rose colored glasses, but G”H”W Bush was a man’s man and his wife saw them both through some of the toughest assignments any family could imagine.
To my dying day, I will always hate the interruption in adult leadership caused by our first “Baby Boom, First Black President, Hipster with the Briefs not Boxers” presidency. It had to happen you see. Herbert Walker was an old school guy who flew airplanes in the big war and was not in touch with the “new generation”. Heck. I had to convince my Dad on a number of occasions that blue and white seersucker suits from Penney’s were not really cool. But I loved them both just the same.
Then in 2000, GWB and RoboGore came up to bat. Both were as far apart as any two people could possibly be. One invented the internet, one thought that it was a term about getting your tennis ball stuck in between you and an opponent. One was a war correspondent who actually didn’t get that close to the war and one was a pilot who didn’t fly too close to the war either. Both had father’s who appeared to create a destiny for their sons. Neither son seemed to be able to pull the whole thing off.
It took a supreme court decision to settle the matter. The guy I voted for won so I didn’t have much to whine about. Unfortunately, the same can’t be said for all those who had visions of another four to eight years of Clinton.
The second confession I can now safely make is that despite the fact that I served in the last bastion of male supremacy up to that point (submarines) I was a sucker for a good musical. There were words back in the day for guys like me who cloaked their musical desires in mystery and intrigue. It rhymes with hay. As a middle school kid, I fell in love with the girl who played the lead in the high school musical South Pacific. I get annoying aroused every time I hear Bali Hai. When I was in high school, I played a character in Paint Your Wagon. Yes, I wore a kilt as a teenager. I did a lot of things during that time to reassure myself that I was as masculine as the next guy.
I also watched a lot of musicals on TV. West Side Story, the original Paint Your Wagon, Brigadoon, Guys and Dolls, and one of my favorites of all time “The King and I”. There was an earlier version that was not so musical called Anna and the King of Siam based on a Novel by Margaret Landon. That novel was based loosely on the memoirs of a woman named Anna Leonowens
One of the big shocks I had later in life was to discover what a fake she was. First, rather than a schoolteacher who was from a family of fine English gentry, she was actually what would have been classified as a “half breed”. Her father was a common English soldier in India and her mother was a combination of a soldier and local girl. Holy crapola. That really dents the picture of a prim and proper Deborah Kerr wearing hoop skirts and lecturing Yul Brenner about appropriate behavior. I can almost hear him saying “etcetera etcetera etcetera” as he puts her in her place. (One note of interest… her great nephew was Boris Karloff).
Then I discovered that Deborah Kerr didn’t actually sing any of the songs. Some woman named Marnie something or other actually did all the singing for her. It makes me wonder if she actually did that wonderful scene in the sand with Burt Lancaster in “From Here to Eternity” or perhaps there was a stunt double then too!
As reality set in, it also seems like the Thai government was not so amused at the portrayal of the King who was a genuinely nice guy. They were also not too thrilled to be portrayed as a kingdom where no one had the brains of a child and modern behavior and morals were light years away from them. The musical and play are still banned in Thailand.
It was as shocking to me to discover all of this as much as it was shocking to find that Al and Tipper may really not have been the basis for Love Story.
On September 11, 2001, I finally got to know George W. Bush. When the towers fell, he was as human as you or I. I raced home that night and stood in line to fill my gas tank. I went out and bought my first shotgun (all I could find and all I could afford). I prayed and called my family. I knew the world had changed forever. George Bush became the President that day. There was no turning back
All the decisions GW had made up to that point now paid off for me. I didn’t want a a mamby pamby soul searching apologist to be in charge of my country. I wanted somebody who would kick some ass. I wasn’t interested in hearing about any supposed injustices that had caused so many people to die in a burning hell. I wanted someone to get busy and make their buddies pay a price they would never forget. If GW had asked me to come back on active duty that week, I would have dropped everything and come running. In fact, my detailer said to go home and rest… they didn’t need me now.
“Getting to know you” took on a whole new meaning. I paid attention like I had never done so before. Despite some flaws, he was the best man I would have hoped for. As time went by and support from the opposition became fear that they would never regain power, they slowly started tearing away at his character and motives again. Power is a deceptive tool in the wrong hands. Soon, all of those who stood together started tearing away at my President. Before too long, the old divisions came back to destroy our unity.
That’s when the “new guy” showed up. Handsome, black (sort of), anti war, anti Bush, anti evil Republican… Barrack Hussein Obama came out of no where (seemingly) to save us from this newly found sense of evil that GW had come to be represented by the press and their liberal masters.
BHO would get us on the right track we were told. He would make us friends in all the world’s corners. The sun and moon would rise and set under his adoring gaze. All hail the conquering hero. Hit the fricking reset button and let’s all dance the night away.
The words to that song now come back to haunt us all…
Getting to know you…
Getting to know you,
Getting to feel free and easy.
When I am with you,
Getting to know what to say
Haven’t you noticed
Suddenly I’m bright and breezy
Because of all the beautiful and new
Things I’m learning about you
Day by day.
Well, Mr. President, the things I am learning aren’t beautiful in the sense that I like what I see. But each day you reveal more about who you are. Just like those days after September 11 with George Bush, I can assure you that your true colors are showing through. I only hope that all of the phoniness, deceit, subterfuge, lies, and concealed hatred for America continue to stream forth onto the public forum.
Get comfortable spending time with the ladies on the View. They may be the only ones inclined to listen to you as your true story unfolds.
Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.