Congress has returned to Washington and nothing will be the same. As Democrats take control of the Senate, President Bush will have to dust off that old rhetoric about being elected to serve all the people and see how it works now.
Let’s say the slate is clean and it’s a brand new day. Let me be the first to reach across party lines, not as an opinionated partisan, but as a potential partner, as a uniter, not a divider.
Here’s a list of everything I have in common with George W. Bush, just off the top of my head:
We both like peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. We both like feather pillows. I don’t bring a feather pillow with me when I travel, the way the president does. Perhaps I should. Motel 6 has only foam pillows and George W. probably ran into the same problem at whichever motel chain he frequents. We both like taking naps in the afternoon when we should be working. The nation does not seem to suffer as a result of these naps and our hours spent in sleep may be more worthy than those we spend awake.
Mr. Bush and I are both baseball fans, American League fans to boot, although I will admit to ambivalence concerning the designated hitter rule. I’ve never owned a team, or part of one, or even such a luxury as a season ticket. I keep hoping this will be my year, but then the muffler falls off the car or some other such minor catastrophe and it’s wait until next year. Maybe the tax cut will help.
If you put our biographies side by side, you’d think Mr. Bush and I were separated at birth. We were both born into Republican families and neither of us was born in Texas. Both of us were opposed to fighting in the war in Vietnam and each of us managed to avoid active duty without resorting to draft dodging. Mr. Bush, through the influence of his father, was able to secure a spot in the Texas Air National Guard. George W.’s outfit was known as the “champagne unit” because of all the sons of the wealthy and powerful who sought refuge there. Mr. B was an air guard fighter pilot, except he wasn’t always certified to fly. He kept failing to show up for his physicals, which included a drug test. That was the problem for future politicians in the Vietnam era, the path was strewn with political landmines. If it wasn’t draft dodging, it might be failing an air guard drug test. Of course, if one went to Vietnam, one might step on a real landmine. I avoided all of this by cleverly being too young to qualify for the draft. It was a brilliantly simple solution that cut through all the red tape.
President Bush is better educated than I am. He went to prep school, then Yale, then Harvard. I attended good schools no one ever heard of, but I think I retained more of what I learned, so it all evens out. For example, I refer to people from Greece as “Greeks,” not “Grecians.” I only say “Grecian” when I refer to the hair dye that works so slowly no one notices you’re using it.
When Mr. Bush and I were young and foolish, we both did young and foolish things, and I’ll do us both a favor by not elaborating on that.
What else do we have in common? We both speak barely passable Spanish, although I like to think my mastery of English is better than the president’s. At some moment in the past month, we have each not belonged to the same party as Jim Jeffords, but our moments did not occur simultaneously.
From time to time, each of our fathers calls up with advice about our careers. (Both our dads, by the way, are veterans of the U.S. Navy.) I think George’s dad calls with advice more than mine does. On the other hand, my dad can’t find out what I’m up to by turning on the radio every hour on the hour. None of my dad’s former colleagues work in the same wing of the building that I do. In fact, I don’t even have a wing.
Oh, and one last thing George W. Bush and I have in common – neither of us has as much clout as Dick Cheney.
GWB and Me
Congress has returned to Washington and nothing will be the same. As Democrats take control of the Senate, President Bush will have to dust off that old rhetoric about being elected to serve all the people and see how it works now.
Let’s say the slate is clean and it’s a brand new day. Let me be the first to reach across party lines, not as an opinionated partisan, but as a potential partner, as a uniter, not a divider.
Here’s a list of everything I have in common with George W. Bush, just off the top of my head:
We both like peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. We both like feather pillows. I don’t bring a feather pillow with me when I travel, the way the president does. Perhaps I should. Motel 6 has only foam pillows and George W. probably ran into the same problem at whichever motel chain he frequents. We both like taking naps in the afternoon when we should be working. The nation does not seem to suffer as a result of these naps and our hours spent in sleep may be more worthy than those we spend awake.
Mr. Bush and I are both baseball fans, American League fans to boot, although I will admit to ambivalence concerning the designated hitter rule. I’ve never owned a team, or part of one, or even such a luxury as a season ticket. I keep hoping this will be my year, but then the muffler falls off the car or some other such minor catastrophe and it’s wait until next year. Maybe the tax cut will help.
If you put our biographies side by side, you’d think Mr. Bush and I were separated at birth. We were both born into Republican families and neither of us was born in Texas. Both of us were opposed to fighting in the war in Vietnam and each of us managed to avoid active duty without resorting to draft dodging. Mr. Bush, through the influence of his father, was able to secure a spot in the Texas Air National Guard. George W.’s outfit was known as the “champagne unit” because of all the sons of the wealthy and powerful who sought refuge there. Mr. B was an air guard fighter pilot, except he wasn’t always certified to fly. He kept failing to show up for his physicals, which included a drug test. That was the problem for future politicians in the Vietnam era, the path was strewn with political landmines. If it wasn’t draft dodging, it might be failing an air guard drug test. Of course, if one went to Vietnam, one might step on a real landmine. I avoided all of this by cleverly being too young to qualify for the draft. It was a brilliantly simple solution that cut through all the red tape.
President Bush is better educated than I am. He went to prep school, then Yale, then Harvard. I attended good schools no one ever heard of, but I think I retained more of what I learned, so it all evens out. For example, I refer to people from Greece as “Greeks,” not “Grecians.” I only say “Grecian” when I refer to the hair dye that works so slowly no one notices you’re using it.
When Mr. Bush and I were young and foolish, we both did young and foolish things, and I’ll do us both a favor by not elaborating on that.
What else do we have in common? We both speak barely passable Spanish, although I like to think my mastery of English is better than the president’s. At some moment in the past month, we have each not belonged to the same party as Jim Jeffords, but our moments did not occur simultaneously.
From time to time, each of our fathers calls up with advice about our careers. (Both our dads, by the way, are veterans of the U.S. Navy.) I think George’s dad calls with advice more than mine does. On the other hand, my dad can’t find out what I’m up to by turning on the radio every hour on the hour. None of my dad’s former colleagues work in the same wing of the building that I do. In fact, I don’t even have a wing.
Oh, and one last thing George W. Bush and I have in common – neither of us has as much clout as Dick Cheney.