Barone Picks Up the Hymn
“Bush Clinton Clinton Bush Bush Clinton!“
Sing it, Mikey!
To compare our political struggles to the conflicts between rival dynasties may be carrying it too far. But we have become, I think, a nation that is less small-r republican and more royalist than it used to be. Viscerally, this strikes me as a bad thing. But as I’ve thought about it, I’ve decided that something can be said for the increasing royalism of our politics. And whether you like it or not, you can’t deny it’s there. Not when the wife of the 42nd president is a leading candidate to succeed the 43rd president who in turn is the son of the 41st president. The two George Bushes are referred to in their family, we are told, as 41 and 43. If Hillary Clinton wins, will she and her husband call each other 42 and 44?
It’s catchy, ain’t it?
January 29th, 2007 at 12:40 pm
The good news is that the Clintons barely replicate. The Bush folks on the otherhand are crowding out of their niche.
January 29th, 2007 at 1:03 pm
Ooh good point!
January 29th, 2007 at 5:40 pm
I’d guess that there are more than a few Baby Bubbas living off the books. But officially, just one spoilt bratette?
January 29th, 2007 at 9:49 pm
Yep. Just the one. The others aren’t likely to get away trading on his name.
January 29th, 2007 at 11:32 pm
Yes only 1 official yoof. Now Ima of course the unpaid and over-worked CEO and Spokesperson for the charitable organization HTCT (Help Tie Chelseas Tubes) which looks to make a love offering to Young Miss Clinton in return for a minor surgical procedure. When we started the drive back in 1992 10 million looked like it would do the trick, but due to parental success and certain increases in overhead, it now looks like $120 million is needed. Your contribution is not tax-deductable, (altho hell give it a try if you want) but I can assure you it will be cockle warming and eye-brow raising.
So now, while the choir softly sings At the Cross I want you all to look into your heart and cast away what small doubts you might have and give. I mean really give. I mean rip the damn staples outen your wallet and fork it over! I got a charity to run you know what it’s like man. Put it all in the plate! And no damn making change or cashing checks outa the Chelsea Plate, I know all that stuff, hell, I’ve done it. Now let’s listen to the choir while you reflect on the fact THAT YOU STILL GOT THAN FIVER IN YOUR LEFT POCKET now fork it over for Chelsea.
At the Cross at the Cross Where the train killed my hoss, and the wheels of my buggy ran away. It was there by chance, that I tore my Sunday pants and now Ima have to wear them everday.
Bless you chilruns, peace be upon you, leave with a happy heart. but don’t think of touching Chelseas Plate.
January 30th, 2007 at 1:12 am
I don’t think I’m going to get much work done today after reading that! All in a good cause, though!
January 30th, 2007 at 1:44 am
Is that to the tune of the one about “the old rugged cross was too tall for the shelf so it spent ninety years on the floor”?
January 30th, 2007 at 4:29 am
Oh my that made me laugh. I stopped here, however, to ask nin how she’s feeling now that the vicodin’s worn off…presumably? And, of course, to congratulate her on her one-handed blogging skills.
January 30th, 2007 at 7:15 am
That’s the one Mister Red. And gracious RC is they something growing on your handle there?
January 30th, 2007 at 8:41 am
Might be an idea to have it seen to.
January 30th, 2007 at 8:46 am
Oh the vicodin’s going strong. I had more of it than I thought I would and taking less of it than I need to. Note though, the way the one-handed blogging starts the morning strong. Then there’s the lull in the afternoon and evening for continuing to clean up the old place, then there’s silence at night. Comfortable drug-addled weak-limbed silence because I use my hand more than I ought during the afternoon. It’s not something I’d recommend, moving one-handed.
As soon as my tea’s done and I have a digestive cookie in me, I think I’ll take today’s first, indeed.
January 30th, 2007 at 9:46 am
:> Dang. Now that’s the spirit. Chin up, eyes crossed, a quiet buzz and explosives.
/Ima sickly to0, but get no attention except from the cops.
January 30th, 2007 at 11:43 am
Whatever it was, it seems to have done now.