 |
||||||||
 |
|
|||||||
|
||||||||
|
 |
These verbal jousts give meaning to the morning
© St. Petersburg Times My friend Brian is absolutely desperate for me to say in print that I think George Bush & Co. are doing a better job with the war on terrorism than Al Gore and his team would have. Brian, of course, has never forgiven me for my support of Ralph Nader, which, he suspects, siphoned off just enough Gore votes to throw Florida (with a little help from Katherine Harris and a slew of judges) to Bush. And I suspect he only wants me to make this statement in print so that he can roll up the newspaper and whack me on the snout with it during all subsequent political arguments. In the interest of making sure he actually buys a copy of the newspaper in order to do that -- as opposed to his usual habit of sneaking it for free off the Internet while he spends his money on Brand X -- I will do so. Cowboy or not, and I admit to more than a little queasiness at John Ashcroft's tendency to play hackey-sack with the Bill of Rights, I feel better with Bush running the war than I would have with Gore. And I do not make that statement lightly. Brian is holding the tickets for our trip to a Gasparilla/Super Bowl Party/Bob Dylan concert weekend, and if this publication actually does (as it well might) cause him to die of apoplexy and go face-down in his Rice Krispies this morning, it will leave just barely enough mourning time to pass before I would feel socially comfortable in asking his wife for two of the tickets, unless she wants to come with us. In short, my rationale is based on the fact that every time anyone asked Al Gore any question before the election, he either: A) took credit for something with which he had absolutely nothing to do, or B) promised to put Social Security "in a lock box." It is more significant that both he and Bush had galloped so hard to the center that neither one of them, actually, said anything of consequence during the campaign. The lack of adequate medical care for the poor, children and the elderly wasn't worth their attention. The deplorable practice of refusing to protect human rights based on sexual orientation wasn't worth their attention (at least Bill Clinton had enough class to lie about his intentions). And, in fact, nothing seemed to be a sure thing, except that Al was going to put Social Security in a lock box. That's why I, after threatening to do so during decades of being presented with totally lackluster candidates, cast a protest vote for Nader who, despite his failings, was at least talking about issues. You have to understand that my friend Brian and his wife and his friend Tom spent all night New Year's Eve in a wide-ranging social-political-theological brouhaha amply fueled by several magnums of champagne and several pitchers of Harp lager. I actually quit drinking early in the evening because the argument (a tradition of our friendship) was going to include two Ph.D.s, a working economist and me, and I had to snag every possible advantage. One of the reasons I enjoy our hours-long battles is that it is one of the rare moments I (usually cast as the house liberal in most company I keep) am the most conservative person in the room. No holds are barred, so I accept their accusations of being a half-witted, brainwashed, shell-shocked former Marine high school dropout (despite that it is unfair, I am not shell shocked) and they, likewise take no offense at my pointing out that they are effete, pampered, Eastern establishment snobs whose idea of harsh reality centers around tragedies like broken nails and door dings on BMWs. Part of that, as allowed under the rules, is also unfair: They all, defiantly, drive junkers to demonstrate solidarity with "the people" they fear are the intended victims of some vast Right Wing conspiracy. We accuse each other of having qualities like Richard Nixon's sanity and Bill Clinton's truthfulness, and each of us feigns outrage that anyone as dumb as the other can be allowed to walk the streets, much less bend young minds (Brian is an educator) or write newspaper columns. Nothing is resolved except that morning-after hangovers are borne with some degree of honor for having incurred them in defense of truth, justice and the American way, and each discussion leaves us with a point of departure for the next. I'll get back to you after the Dylan concert. It ought to be a hoot.
 © 2006 • All Rights Reserved • Tampa Bay Times
490 First Avenue South • St. Petersburg, FL 33701 • 727-893-8111 
|
|
Times columns today Howard Troxler Jan Glidewell Gary Shelton From the Times North Suncoast desks |
