NRA Barbeques and Texas Afternoons

It’s hardly surprising that the most recognizable public figure, next to the Pope perhaps, is the President of the United States. People around the world know where he lives, what his daily schedule is, who he meets with, who he sleeps with, where he went to school, whether or not he inhaled marijuana, or exhales lies on a daily basis. It’s pretty safe to say, with all proceeds going to the United States political machine, that most people recognize the Leader of the Free World. But what happens when George W. Bush leaves the Oval?

The ceremonial thing to do is open a Presidential Library. Since Hubert Hoover, every subsequent President has built a facility meant to house his papers, books, and basically everything he has ever said out loud in his life – even the things he wished he didn’t say! Most Presidential libraries have faux-Oval Offices, with all the trappings of the White House: personal gifts they were given while in Office, perhaps a portrait standing ornate beside a silent shelf of dusty books; journals; his favourite pen; and lots of press photos. President Reagan’s Library in California even has the Air Force One that was used up until George W. Bush.

Trouble with George W. Bush is that, when you say library, your mind does work together images of him looking stately, sitting comfortably thumbing through an Allen Bloom translation, under a Stetson hat. NO. Keep in mind this is the President who is on record saying, ‘the best thing about books is some times they have interesting pictures.’ When somebody says that, my gut reaction is usually to vomit until I pass out. So you can see how I find it interesting to question just what would Bush put in his Presidential Library?

Honestly, a water-slide. Have you ever seen George W. Bush at a press event or the G8 last month for example? He doesn’t walk around like a concerned man with the weight of the world on his shoulders – as one might expect. NO, rather, he acts like a 12 year old at a father and son picnic. There he will be, grinning a silly grin, and calling world leaders by nicknames – screaming ‘YO Harper,’ with the same enthusiasm as one kid calling the neighbourhood’s attention to the ice-cream truck. So far, no books.

There might however, be a journal: Reveries of Nap Time, by George W. Bush. The President is usually a man who never gets any sleep because he stays up all night with staff and advisors from the Pentagon, participating in vigorous debates about some important and perhaps dangerous world event. Not Dubya. For the first time in a long time, there was an Executive Order regarding the President’s bedtime: 9:30pm, no exceptions; well, okay, wake only in case of national emergency. In addition to the adolescent bedtime, Dubya would also take naps during the day. This is what throws me; in between the jogging and frat boy reunions in Crawford Texas, when does he find the time to nap? Lucky for him the Oval Office comes equipped with couches, ready and waiting to carry the weight of Operation Dreaming Eagle.

Something else about former Presidents is that they are entitled to lifetime protection from the Secret Service. This decision however, was amended by Congress in such a way that the last President to receive life time protection is Bill Clinton. The current rule mandates that once a President leaves Office, he is protected by the Secret Service for ten years. In the wake of 9/11 and the mystery of Osama bin Laden’s whereabouts, Congress has gone back to the drawing board on this one. It’s probably a good thing, because all the ten year protection does in guarantee somebody is waiting, with full metal jacket and landmines, in the tall grass for the 11^th year. Probably not, Bush is surprisingly popular.

Former Presidents get into all different types of work once they leave Office. President Carter won a Nobel Peace Prize in 2002 for his work with Amnesty International; President Clinton went to marriage counselling, and followed the lecture circuit for $1000 a plate; Nixon became a recluse; Reagan forgot who he was; and George H.W. Bush still reads CIA briefings (every former President is entitled to them). SO, WWDD: What Would Dubya Do?

Bush The Younger is one of the few Presidents never to have penned a book before being elected. And he might as well be the first sitting President never to have read one either; what with all the napping and traveling and bruiting at G8 summits. SO, it pretty safe to say HE won’t be writing his political memoirs; but he will probably pay a ghost writer – Karl Rove might be looking for work. It is also safe to say that after eight years of Republicans waging wars based on erroneous information, setting up extra-legal prisons, and turning a budget surplus into a history breaking deficit, nobody in their right mind would pay over $2 dollars and a stroll across the street to hear Dubya spin colloquially behind a podium, with flash cards and a colouring book in case he gets bored.

Wait, I’m wrong, there might be one group that would not only sit and listen to Dubya, but actually extend him an invitation to speak: the NRA. Upon hearing the news of Dubya’s triumphant return to his ranch in Crawford, the local chapter president of the NRA might suggest a barbeque honouring George W. Bush’s time in the White House, with an afternoon of skeet-shooting, over the wide-open Texas sky.

The Sycophant and the Big Mouth

I have studied politics for several years; at Carleton University, at Mike’s Place, in the locker room, walking down the street, at the bookstore - everywhere. During these conversations, doubtless, I have traversed the political spectrum, ideologically and even emotionally, with whomever I happen to be talking. And while I have become engaged with several different types of political minds - academics, students, street-poets - I can tell you this: politics is responsible for two types of people: the sycophant, and the big mouth.

The sycophant is a political nomad, wondering the wilderness in search of ideas on which he or she can sustain themselves. They live in swing states. For these people, general elections are side-walk sales and campaign speeches have them perpetually perched on the edge of their seat. They are drunk with hope, but they are hopeless. They are also the type of voter that candidates and incumbents like the most; they can be won over with smiles, promises, town hall meetings, and poll-tested electioneering tactics.

Sycophants are not the type of person who watches political commentary shows like the Cobert Report, or The Daily Show with John Stewart, and they are certainly not the type of person who watches CTV’s Question Period with Craig Oliver on Sunday mornings. NO. The sycophant watches Oprah, and runs out to buy a copy of so-and-so’s new book. If the House of Commons where a Golden Calf, sycophants are the people living it up at the base of the mountain.

On the other hand, is the Big Mouth. Obnoxious, to be sure, the Big Mouth can be identified by a few characteristics. Firstly, they are usually the ones that are formally educated. Some of them have more acronyms behind their name than the alphabet has letters. They insist that you call them doctor, but if you went to them to fix a broken leg, all they would tell you is that they are actually a Ph.D.

The big mouth is also someone who claims to have studied politics from a breath of standpoints, but could not locate objectivity on a map. They are the ones that you can start a conversation with, and listen to as they finish it. While the sycophant resembles a political schizophrenic, the Big Mouth is a born-again. Big Mouths have ‘seen the light’ and make sure they tell everybody they lecture, that that person is entitled to the Big Mouth’s opinion. Big Mouths are also the type of person who prescribes to a certain political ideology: Marxism, Libertarianism, Anarchism, Federalism, whatever it is, they make sure you know about it. This becomes their screening process, which you can practically hear when you’re talking to them.