However, she did firmly deny that she’d appeared before department heads in interviews wearing nothing but a buffalo poncho, rough-hewn turquoise earrings, and some moccasins made from tanned deer skin and bindwind she’d chewed, boiled, and finished with a resin made from black bear semen.
So that ends that ridiculous rumor.*
On the shores of Massachusetts,
by the shining Narraganset,
stood the wigwam of Fauxcahontis.
I keep thinking that we’ve shot our wads a little too soon on all this. But who am I kidding? The Democrats can replace a candidate for elective office who they deem unelectable as late as a few days before an election. They may well roll out Teddy’s decomposing corpse. He probably looks better now than he did when alive.
The convention is Saturday. Spreading Bull has a challenger.
Meanwhile, Romney does a funny.
Plus, Teddy has likely dried out by now. He hasn’t had a drink in years.
Did he make it into the family plot in Arlington or not?
“Meanwhile, Romney does a funny.”
I keep getting the feeling that Romney is Eisenhower reincarnate. Which might not be bad at all.
Except that Eisenhower’s the one who put the concensus in New Deal concensus.
That doesn’t bode well for undoing Obamacare or otherwise shrinking the entitlement state. After all, managed decline is still decline.
Undoing ObamaCare will require court action and legislative action. Romney could nibble around the regulatory edges a bit but that is about it.
With concensus, nibbling around the edges is all your likely to get. Which is why I don’t find the Eisenhower comparison particularly comforting, however apt it may be.
Ernst – they can’t let Teddy get anywhere near the eternal flame – the fire marshal won’t allow it.
BT – before Don Surber folded up his teepee I used to comment that I wanted another Eisenhower, someone who is competent and can make decisions, someone who is a boring old responsible adult. Exciting presidents are not good for the health.
It’s too bad for us that what’s needed is a Robert Taft then.
and some moccasins made from tanned deer skin and bindwind
Point of order: Bindweed is an imported species from Europe ca. 1740 and therefore her people would not have made moccasins from it.
Other than that, it’s fully authentic.
One of my first political memories was when Eisenhower had his first heart attack and all the grownups were scared shitless that that meant Nixon would be President. Many of these same adults would vote for Nixon in ’60, because of the experience he gained when filling in for Ike.
One of my first is of hearing about Reagan getting shot.
Mine is of John Kennedy getting shot in Dallas and Uncle Walter intoning that “the president is dead.”
You know, an interesting counterfactual would be Nixon defeats Kennedy in ’60.
My first political memory is voting for Nixon. I was in first grade (1967?), the whole school did it. Nixon won, and then a few days later he really won. I didn’t know anything about the guy (I was 6!), but I was happy I picked the winner.
Kinda like the average adult voter these days…
True story: on the occassion of the 30 anniversay of his assassination I got cornered by a reporterette collecting quotes for one of those man on the street features, and when she asked me for my thoughts I replied, “best thing that ever happened to him.”
Musta been ’68…der.
Heh. You sound like my dad Ernst: “I’m glad the son-of-a-bitch is dead.”
Argh. According to Wiki:
He was a Private First Class when he finished his 2 years in the Army.
Not what I meant leigh. Just that, absent the assassination, there’s no myth, only the reality.
My first? Being told by my mom that RFK had been shot.
If only he’d earned his spot the same way Bobby did, ed?
I attended JF Kennedy’s funeral, standing for hours at the roadside on the Memorial Dr. bridge over the GW parkway with my dad and little sister waiting for the caisson to pass by, but that wasn’t any sort of early political memory to me. The Kennedy-Nixon election night would qualify that way though, I guess, with the celebrations of my Catholic family next-door neighbors with whom I stayed up to watch the tv. Something to do with voting, I gathered.
That’s a pretty cool thing to see as a boy. Historically significant and all.
You must have frozen your butt off. If irrc it was really, really cold that day.
I guess I’ll out myself as the baby in the room by remarking that my earliest political memory comes from when I was in fourth grade and talking about a German classmate at the dinner table, and said, “I’m not sure whether he’s from West Germany or East Germany,” and my dad, amused, said, “There aren’t a whole lot of East Germans wandering the earth these days.” This would have been in 1988.
I also vividly recall my friend’s family carving Clinton/Gore jack o’lanterns around Halloween, 1992.
The Kennedy inaugural, which I didn’t attend, but lived through in the nearby suburbs of DC, was a cold-assed day. The funeral day was only cold to my memory now in the early hours. By the time the cortege passed the day had warmed sufficiently to be easily bearable. Besides, all of the long military procession had the effect of taking one’s mind off the temperature.
Were you allowed to take pictures? All that pagentry doesn’t happen often.
There’s quite a gap between 1740 and Trail of Tears. Big enough for Russian Thistle to make a showing as tumbleweeds.
Yeah, I know: those appeared later, in the 1870s. Still: they were endemic in just a few decades.
Allowed? It’s odd, that. I’d never have thought of such a thing within the confines of that term. Though I wouldn’t have done, being only 10 at the time and entirely ignorant of photography. My dad was an avid photographer though, yet I don’t recall him bringing his camera along.
I didn’t know if DC was touchy about cameras back in the day, that’s why I used “allowed.” Russian spies and the like abounded then. As late as the late 70s, some friends were part of a chorale group who went on a singing tour of Eastern Europe. They were forbidden to take pictures of some of the most mundane things. Sheep in Poland, for instance.
I’ve told the story before, but DC was so un-touchy back in the day that I and a small gang of miscreant choir-children used to wander from our early service at the Lutheran Church of the Reformation on E. Capitol St. a couple of blocks to the Capitol to run around the halls at will, practically without the slightest interference of the guards there. Security seemed the last thing on their minds.
That’s wonderful! I always feel as if we’re barely tolerated anymore. Ever since the Clinton’s place the concrete barriers around the White House, it’s more like Buckingham Palace. At least I got to visit the first time when you could still drive up Pennsylvania Ave.
Concerned about pornography.
Heh. That was a gimme, Rob.
Ha! Ya think?
I think Liz, Ward Churchill, and Billy Jack should have a little pow-wow.
Billy Jack came to my high school when the movie was really popular. He’s very short.
He’d be the pow-wow peewee.
Heh. He was the first of the Pretendians that I’m aware of.
black bear semen can be used to waterproof moccasins?
See, that is the workplace know how the 99% get while the fat cat republicans make trillions
Untold numbers of non-union workers extracting product from bears for less than SF Valley SAG card holders get for giving up ass.
That is the state of the american economy. Everyone in the bear jizmo industry is oppressed… And Elizabeth Warren is coming to the rescue… Pocahontas without renumeration
– Hmmmm….and here I thought only SAG card holding electricians were allowed to wire a head for resevations….
BBH, that is easily the worst pun in this thread. Mainly because I didn’t think of it first.
Yeah, makes me want to wamp ’em.
– Indian puns are just a matter of no-how.
The Chinese have offered to synthesize it for less than half… but of course they want the bear’s gall bladder and balls for medicinal purposes
Chinese salutations are just a matter of ni hao.
– Thats easy for you to sess-sai.
Maybe Billy Jack, Liz and Ward could kick off their pow-wow with a memorial tribute to
Iron Eyes Cody and Forrest Carter
leigh,
There were quite a few pretendians in many of the classic westerns.