What a Difference Character Makes
Black Tie Black Eye
By Barbara Stanley
One of the things that has always bothered me the most about DC is the railing against each other by day and then going out for a drink together in the evening.
How can folks who are diametrically opposed in goals duke it out (like gentlemen for the most part, on the Right side of the aisle), one wanting smaller government and lower taxes, the other, big government and all kinds of social programs, tax and spend democrats and then yuck it up at the local watering hole. It always boggled my mind and it is one of the things about politics that I find so distasteful. This kind of behaviour gave rise to the “old-boys club” and “inside the Beltway deals” that are odious to me. How can you really believe in something for hours during the day and then put those strong beliefs away in the evening? I have had a few try to explain this to me and condescendingly at that, that this is “politics” and I’m just some dumb skirt, pat me on the head and I’ll go to my sewing.
Every year there is a black tie ‘do’ in DC that has the president making a few self-deprecating remarks for the press people to gloat about and then some entertainment and everybody goes home laughing. But not this year and not with this president. Hallelujah, I’m a happy camper at last!
While the first speaker, the incoming president of the self-important press folks spoke, the talking in the room, for the most part, still went on. A complete example of how rude most of these self-important reporters are. They couldn’t even shut up and listen to their newly installed chief. It was annoying to me to try to listen to this guy as he fumbled to get the audiences attention. It was also embarrassing to watch.
Then George Bush was introduced and the room took on a hush. I could tell they were all waiting for George to let bygones by bygones, swallow the crap he has been getting from them all year and mock himself for their enjoyment. But, with Helen Thomas, hair all done up and looking spiffy right there on the dais as though she held some kind of special place in the scheme of things, George showed them all what class really looks like.
This was no a joke-fest, like a few years back, with Imus sweating bullets and talking about Bill (The Pig) Clinton’s astro-turf in the back of the truck while Bill and Hill glaringly watched. Nope, this was a new day for the lot of them and Bush put them all in their place (at the feeding trough below the bottom rung). I really wish I had taped the thing, so I could watch and listen over and over as the room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop as they sat salivating for the headlines of the articles they would write the next day.
George Bush, freshly victorious in the Liberation of Iraq, was one class act. He got up, he spoke and his topic was the men who died in Iraq, two of the press’ own: Michael Kelly and David Bloom. He commended them for their work; he lauded them for their lives and George finished his remarks, of some length, with the last email that David Bloom sent home to his wife. David told his wife that here he was, in the prime of his career on the eve of his fortieth birthday, in a war zone with the troops as the newly created “embedded” reporter and that all that was really important was her, his wife, their children and Jesus.
Yes, George Bush said the name that has virtually everyone in the press nattering: Jesus. He said it with conviction; he said it with respect and he said it with love. Then he sat down. And the audience sat stunned! I almost couldn’t believe my eyes and ears.
It was pure joy to watch the emcee get up, flustered as all get out, trying to fill the gap in time for the band to set up for the entertainment. I only watched a few more minutes before I felt my heart leap with such gratitude that I thought I would cry. Finally a man who stands by his convictions, who cares truly about the previous year and his work during that time, a time of great challenge as France, Germany, Russia, Red China, the United Nations and the press called him out on his decision to liberate Iraq. A year that saw Bill Clinton and Jimmah Carter speak out publicly against Bush, while traveling around as though they were still in charge, dealing with the enemy as the press told us what great peacemakers they were.
Bush is my cowboy and aren’t we glad we still have men like him to lead this country. The cowboy is revered by those who understand the true definition of this kind of man; a man slow to anger, never one to pick a fight, always ready to defend the defenseless, a man who has stones and backbone and heart and is willing to go out and face down the badguys, even if it means his own destruction.
For the last year, almost the entire press has slung the arrows at George, has mocked, has ridiculed, has trashed him mercilessly and has done it on an hourly basis while they pretty much ignored the real hypocrites, to attack the Christian president. They called him stupid, they called him “shrub”, they challenged every decision as though they really cared, as though they really understood the full import of the situation and last night George showed them all he has been paying attention and has not forgotten that their actions have caused people to suffer and die more than was absolutely necessary.
Every day in every way, my esteem for this man grows and last night he said what I wanted him to say, he did what I wanted him to do and I will not forget this man is working for me. Thank you, President Bush, from the bottom of my politics-weary heart.
About The Author
Award-winning writer and Federal Observer contributor Barbara Stanley is a conservative writer of commentary on a broad range of subjects and a Sentry Editorial Excellence Award-winning journalist residing in the upstate forest of New York. In addition to political and social commentary, Barbara writes fictional short stories at her website.
Copyright (c) 2003 Barbara Stanley All Rights Reserved