Wimp II: This Time It's Personal
Stay up to date with the latest headlines via email.
Wimps rejoice. The glittering realm of wimpdom is vacant no more. "Long live His Wimpiness King George II." Yes, friends, the wimp is back and he's wimpier than ever. As the Arnold is wont to say: "He's a girlie man." Punked-out mamma's boy. You know if he were in prison, he'd be shaving his legs, wearing mascara and calling his cellmate "Sushi Lips." Not that there's anything wrong with that. I'm just saying.
Got to admit it's not completely the 43rd president's fault. This whole wimp thing is obviously a congenital condition inherited from 41. A slow motion victory by one of the more recessive of Episcopalian genes. Like all bad history, bound to repeat itself.
I hear you querying, "What remarkable wimp-like activity has the president perpetrated to reclaim his long lost family heritage?" Well, to be fair, it wasn't a single feeble pander on his part, but a catalogue of pathetic grandstanding that placed daddy's crown on his head. But now that you mention it, yes, one particularly nasty piece of business does stand out like a quarter-sized hairy mole on the airbrushed cheek of a Playboy centerfold.
I'm referring to the sorry spectacle of the president flying back to D.C. from Texas to jump on the holy-roller bandwagon entangling a brain damaged coma victim's feeding tubes in its spokes. Don't know if he's trying to energize his base or distract folks from his Social Security debacle, or just plain happy to get his face next to a headline that says "coma."
But any way you cut it, it's rare to see this kind of world class brown-nosing from a termed-out politician. His staff loves to say Bush is a man who doesn't know the meaning of the word "quit." Well, apparently he's not all that conversant with the word "shame" either.
I can understand Bill Frist and Tom DeLay orchestrating these weasel moves, as they're still ambitious poisonous little suckups with big Christian-right butts in their crosshairs, but shouldn't George be working out of the downtown plaza of Legacy City right now, cleaning up his contribution to a presidential library by shredding documents? And it turns out, he's just a big fat sissy boy like his dad. Isn't that sweet?
Sanctimoniously justifying his attempt to intercede on behalf of a prone human pawn, Bush intoned, "always err on the side of life." Of course the obvious exception would be those darn Iraqis. Didn't "err on the side of life" in that one, did you George?
Instead of waiting for the inspections to work, his beliefs were a mite more secular then, listening instead to the whispering generals: "If we don't get there in 8 weeks, it's going to get real hot, which will make our troops' flak jackets itchy." That time he decided to "err" on the side of wardrobe. This time the newly crowned King of Wimps erred on the side of political expediency. Not for the first time, and I got a funny feeling, not for the last.
Political comic Will Durst has a feeding tube. It's a brown bottle that says "Anchor" on the outside and holds 12 oz. of frothy nutritious liquid on the inside.