Coonridge Digest: From thoughts…to words…to war…

Dear President Bush,

Greetin’s from the Ridge. I live in Coonridge but that does not keep me from observin’ the goings-on in Washington and other loud places in the world.

I write to urge you to take a hint from the story of Aunt Mildred. Clam up occasionally.

Okay, I realize that this may not be the most respectful way to start a letter to the President of the United States, but I’m honestly givin’ you this advice out of the most sincere goodwill and patriotism. Next time you feel like talkin’, don’t.

Let me explain. Aunt Mildred was a good-hearted woman who never in her life meant to cause a bit of harm to anyone but the woman just couldn’t shut her mouth and it nearly ruined what would otherwise have been a derned good reputation.

Mildred was of the misguided notion that everything that comes to your mind ought to zip on through the mouth. This is not a good idea. I can remember standin’ around with Mildred after a post-funeral graveside service. It was a hot day and several of the Ridge’s most noble matrons were chattin’ in the shade of a sprawlin’ elm tree. Aunt Mildred walked over to join ‘em and boldly proclaimed, "You know, you ladies look like our sows back home, crowdin’ in for the last bit of shade." The fact is, these ladies did bear a passin’ resemblance to a small herd of Chester White hogs, but as usual, Mildred’s words were as much on the money as her timin’ was off the mark.

Mr. Bush, your intentions may be as pure-as-the-driven-opinion-poll but for gosh sakes, do you have to say everything that comes to your mind?

There is nothin’ wrong with holdin’ strong opinions in this land of the free and home of the sound byte, but there are some things that the leader of the free world ought to consider keepin’ to himself.

You’ve made a point about this Saddam thing not bein’ personal. That’s good. Wars should be about principle and not personality, but then last week you said that, "After all, this is the guy who tried to kill my Dad." Well duh, George. We knew that. But as your emissaries were zippin’ around the world tryin’ to drum up coalitions in a world that doesn’t seem ready to jump into our basket at the moment, this was just a remarkably dumb thing to say. As I told Aunt Mildred again and again, you can think anything you want but are you sure it’s always doin’ yourself a favor to say it?

You see, we got a whole world that’s a bit skitterish about startin’ a world war. They aren’t too sure whether the cause is cause enough and if I can be frank with you, some doubt our motives. This is no time to be sayin’ every little thing that comes to your mind.

You said that you wanted to draw up a manifesto against Saddam that would be so plain "That even the boys down in Lubbock could understand it." Believe me, I get the gist of what you’re tryin’ to say but did you give any thought to what the boys in Lubbock might of thought about this shootin’ from the lip?

Now don’t go and label me as one of those knee-jerk reactionaries who have daily conniptions over some fluff of political correctness.

Everybody can make a slip once in a while. But George, you seem to make it a daily practice. I have never been a fan of political ghostwriters.

Too often we elect candidates accordin’ to the brains of their speechwriters. But Mr. President, in your case I’d strongly advise you to hire one. Maybe a couple. If war starts, take on a dozen then each mornin’ pick the version that might possibly lead the world to peace.

Sometimes Presidents have had political hatchet men whose job it was to talk tough while insulatin’ the President as a calm and reasonable power behind the thrown. Nixon had Agnew and Ford. Trouble is, Agnew has been historically relegated to the ranks of political mistakes and Ford is still thought of as a bit of a doofus. You don’t want those marks left branded to your hide when you mosey back to the ranch some day.

You see, the real tragedy of Aunt Mildred’s life is that when she died, lots of folks thought that maybe she just wasn’t too smart. Believe me, that was not the case. Mildred was a literate and astute woman, but since the distance between her brain and her tongue was so dangerously short, folks assumed that there was no engine in the old buggy. .. that she was firin’ on less than the full eight cylinders.

Like most of the world, I am fully and completely consternated about this whole Iraq mess. I sorely want the truth and I pray that those doin’ the talkin’ know what it is.

And you see, Mr. Bush, the dangerous alternative to this line of thinkin’ is that you actually have thought out these dangerous things in advance and that you have every intention of sayin’ what you’ve said.

That’s an alternative that scares me as much as war.

You ever in Coonridge, stop by. We may not answer the door but you’ll enjoy the trip. Freida Marie Crump.