The week got off to a good start, with news that John F. Kerry
is determined to raise the stature of his middle initial. After
months of flirting with a francophone rendition he has revealed
himself an America-Firster, insisting it stood for the F word he
now uses at every public appearance with voters under age 60. It
won’t be long before Tina Brown declares him a hot item and sets
him up with some sweet thing named Paris Hilton, though again just
to avoid patriotic misunderstanding that sweet thing had better
call herself Paris Texas Hilton.
Either way conspiracy king Howie Dean is angry and he’s not
going to take it anymore, even after he’s committed. His tongue is
wagging every which way as he craftily weighs whether to ascribe
his success on the Internet to the same forces that turned Ms.
Hilton into a Dean-age sensation. He finds himself conflicted in
part because of the genius of honorary U.S. President Emeritus Al
Gore, who has the briny Howie in a pickle. Gratitude would require
El Deano to give all credit to Al Gore for inventing the medium
that made Ms. Hilton possible and accessible. But that would mean
Dean-dumb has to concede Al Gore also invented the medium that made
him possible and unacceptable.
In happier days, when a political giant endorsed a candidate the
two would appear at a brief ceremony, raise their hands in unison,
and disappear from public life. But involve Al Gore in the
procedure and right away everyone is noticing the big sweat stain
under the arm he’s raised. Then everyone is startled by Al’s
suddenly long wavy hair. Has he been on a surfing safari? Or is he
just psychotically hiding his fabled bald spot, which has spread as
relentlessly as the ozone layer above his beloved home state of
Antarctica?
Pretty soon Al has pushed whoever it is he endorsed out of the
picture, out of the ring, out of the arena. Dean was short of
stature to begin with. Now he’s not even there. By Al’s
calculations, it’s one down, eight or so more to go. Next up for
his endorsement is Kerry, whom he’ll break in two like a twig and
turn into a giant set of chopsticks. Dick Gephardt he’ll find
hiding in a Iowa cornfield. Once Al tabs him, it’ll really dawn on
him what it means to be charisma deprived. Once he learns Al is
headed in his direction, John Edwards will disappear in the Smokies
above South Carolina. As for Joe Lieberman, he’ll turn down any
plug from Al on the grounds Al didn’t call him to give him advance
notice.
Once he’s cleared the deck it’ll be just Al and Hillary, in a
high noon showdown, with Hillary’s Bill in the role of Grace Kelly
getting out of Dodge on the first available train. Or will we have
a reprise of “The Person Who Shot Liberty Valence,” with Tipper
playing John Wayne in the shadows, though this time no one will
know in advance which of the duelists she’ll choose to plug. Who
knows, Sandra Day O’Connor could put in a cameo appearance,
determined to shoot every last Democratic critter in order to
separate them from their soft money.
And watch out for Ted Koppel. In his gracious manner he allowed
the Democratic field to participate in this season’s final
presidential debate, all so that he could demonstrate to them that
this race is all about him. Afterwards even Dennis Kucinich’s
ratings were higher than Ted’s, and that was before anyone knew
Denny was on a dating spree. Is there a Paris Texas Hilton in his
future? Or will Ted counter by renaming Nightline
“Nighty”?
It is a pity how George W. Bush is having his revenge on
European versions of Howie Dean and John F—- Kerry, shutting them
out of soft money earnings as the administration goes ahead with
its redistricting and pork barrel projects in Iraq. Word is he was
going to let them in on the action, but they insisted on having the
right to name their construction sites after Saddam, his sons,
Vladimir Putin and Jacques Chirac. So no go, after all, and that
includes the mighty subcontractor nation of Canada, whose fab
premier, Jean Chretien, is hanging ‘em up after 10 achieving years
on the ice.
Good luck smoothing out the rinks during breaks at hockey games,
Jean, or with whatever other activities await you in retirement. We
suspect you’ll now have more time to spend with your best friend in
the hemisphere, Fidel, who’ll want to hear straight from the
horse’s mouth how you won this week’s EOW award. Thanks for the
memories, Jean, which aren’t likely to be remembered.
