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Slap-Fight in the GOP

My fellow Americans,

As you could probably tell, my mood of late hasn’t been good, what with the shenanigans of that dingbat from Alaska and her family, and my ex-Chief of Staff sliding into the great beyond. It’s felt like the summer of 1974 all over again, only this time without the solace of sycophants like Henry, Tex, and the Bobs to help me out. Thank god for bourbon and anti-depressants. 

But there is a bit of light peeking through the clouds.  There is nothing that can bring me out of my doldrums quicker than a good old fashioned political slap-fight . The deceit, duplicity, degradation, and depravity that comes when politicians start calling one another’s character into question is like slamming pure, uncut bliss.

Unfortunately, it’s the republican party which is apparently undergoing a bit of an identity crisis.  Tempers are rising and egos getting bruised as the hacks, misanthropes, ward-heelers, waterheads, and dopes all start pointing fingers, making accusations, and claim the mantle of top conservative. And in doing so, they’ll eventually need to look back to how we used to do it back in the day.  Bring out the big guns.  Political campaign is nothing but controlled slander, and the one who does it the best usually wins.   

The trick is to be completely unrestrained and uninhibited about how you assassinate the character of your competitor. I know it sounds absurd, but the more unbelievable, bold, and shameless your attacks, the more the rubes will buy it. It’s an art form, and one that the republicans, sadly, seem to have forgotten.  Look at 2008.  The McCain campaign made a few minor assaults on Obama’s integrity and allegiance (mainly in the form of clumsy and uninspired speeches), but they were so feeble, it was clear they were lies. Now compare that with my first campaign in 1946, when I mercilessly slandered Jerry Voorhis by calling him a communist.  Of course he wasn’t a communist, and of course the people knew he wasn’t.  But my brave strategy of calling him one paid off, and I whipped him like a runaway slave.  Why?  Because the outrageous and contemptible lies fed the public’s desire to believe.  Truth, like compassion, has no place in politics.

The sad thing is that none of the current crop of dimwits in the republican party know what a real conservative is anyway.  Now, Barry Goldwater, there was a real conservative.  I knew Barry Goldwater.  I served my country with Barry Goldwater.  Barry Goldwater was a friend of mine. And I can say with complete confidence that Rush Limbaugh is no Barry Goldwater.

Nixon: Approves

Whore: A Definition by Example

My fellow Americans,

There are very few things that can make me turn my head and fight the primitive reaction to vomit in disgust.  Student protests are one.  Smug, pompous, privileged, Harvard-educated Franklins are another.

But sadly, neither of those things is the cause today.  I've just found that one of those miserable Palin kids will be on some saccharine television program preaching the importance of abstinence (I can't recall her name - something like Bottlecap, or Whiplash.  Anyway, she's the unwed high-school mommy).

For a moment, lets leave aside the incredible hypocrisy of using a girl who spread her legs like butter on toast to tell others to not give in to their throbbing biological urges.  This is yet another example of Caribou Barbie's ludicrous insincerity in terms of using her mewling spawn as fodder for her political ambitions, while at the same time loudly wailing whenever any of her litter is then mocked by the press.

Now, I understand the need to employ an aggressive campaign strategy by constantly attacking a straw-man, and the need to adopt creative means to maintain some semblance of public attention while not in office.  However, my choice of straw-men were hidden communists, and my choice of maintaining public attention was to continue to bolster my already impressive foreign relations experience by taking trips around the world to visit different leaders and further reinforce the perception that Nixon is a man who understands what is Really Going On.  Something a vapid backwater semi-governor who somehow equated proximity to a foreign country with foreign policy might consider.  But what I would never do is pimp out my daughter, Tricia, for the cameras and gain exposure vicariously through her.  Unlike candidate Milf, I have limits to my degradation.

When I consider what has happened to the once proud Republican party - the party of Teddy Roosevelt and Ike - it makes me more depressed than the summer of '76 when I spent my days all alone, wandering along the beaches of San Clemente, collecting bits of washed up seaweed and wishing I had another chance at how to tackle the whole Watergate thing.

Nixon is: Revolted

I'm Sorry You're So Ungrateful

My fellow Americans,

History is filled with instances of great men - leaders and icons - being embarrassed and torn down by the masses in some fit of petty anger and jealousy. Men like Jesus Christ and Mussolini have all had their moment of truth when they have been forced, usually on pain of harm, to face their people and issue some sort of apology.

Yesterday, General Stanley McChrystal, was publicly humiliated by the act of appearing on Afghani television to offer an apology. His trespass?  Having a few dirt-farmers as unintended casualties as a result of the battle to protect those ungrateful people from the horrors of the Taliban.

Now, I've had occasions on which I've had to swallow my bile and suffer the supreme indignity of this spectacle. In 1952 as candidate for Vice President, I had to answer the lies and slander spread about me by the subversive press. Thankfully, I was deft in my ability to deflect atttention by pointing out that Pat wore ugly coats, and that my children had grown fond of a flea-infested mongrel. Then, in 1973 I again had to stand in front of the camera to respond to yet more left-wing attacks on my character and assure the people that I was not a crook.

 Two martyrs

So believe me when I say that I have first-hand knowledge of the pain and embarrassment of this sort of ordeal. The sort of understanding only a kindred spirit in a trial by fire can have. And my heart goes out to Gen. McChrystal in his time of need.

Personally, I blame the current president. This would never have happened in my day. I would never have asked Gen. Westmoreland to apologize to the Vietnamese for soemthing like My Lai, or to have Henry stand in front of the cameras to pull on his greasy forelock because of Cambodia (though his ego could have used that kind of check). I understand and respect the uniform and the men who wear it. Besides, the president and the Generals who serve him have a hard job, and it often gets messy. Sure, there can be unhappy mistakes and our hair might get a bit mussed. But it is for the greater good.

The sooner the bleeding-heart press and un-American hippies understand that, the better it will be for the rest of us, the Great Silent Majority.

Nixon is: Angry


My fellow Americans,

There has been something that has been bothering me recently.  It's the spate of shockingly contradictory statements and actions most often voiced by otherwise sensible people.

Take, for example, Samantha Bell, the daughter of Joseph Stack (the terrorist that slammed his small plane into the IRS building in Austin, TX).

Evidently, this poor woman is a mess.  On the one hand, she calls her father a hero for doing what he did:
"Yes [he is a hero]. Maybe now people will listen [...] I think too many people lay around and wait for things to happen, but if nobody comes out and speaks up on behalf of injustice then nothing will ever be accomplished."
Without a hint of betraying the complete incongruity, she then said that what he did was wrong. Further (and even more disturbing and indicative of a new spoiled, entitled attitude I usually associate with effetes who summer in Hyannis Port ... you know, Franklins) she contradicts her statement with her actions, as she goes on to describe how she had to leave the United States in mid pregnancy for the much more socialist country of Norway because Medicaid would not take care of her.

It's difficult for me, a man who tends to agree with her small-government ideology, to reconcile the fact that she then betrays that belief by going to a land where the government manages healthcare.  And I'm somewhat an expert in compromising my morals, ethics, beliefs, and integrity in order to make a point.

My fellow Americans, is this the best we can do?  Is this poor display of incompetent thought what conservative philosophy has degraded to?

Even worse, she seems to agree with the idea of her father taking action against the IRS.  That is something I could never condone.  Violence against a government agency is terrorism, as sure as if it were done by Carlos the Jackal or Yassir Arafat.  Besides, in my day the IRS was a very valued government insitute.  It served me as a very strong weapon in my attempt to battle my enemies.

It wasn't like this in my day.  It wasn't like this at all.

Nixon Disapproves

The Haig is Dead, Long Live the Haig

My fellow Americans,

It is with a heavy heart and a flare-up of my shingles that I announce that General Alexander Haig, my ex Chief of Staff, has died.

Haig, or "Strafing Run Al" as I called him, was always someone to whom I could turn when the liberal press, college peaceniks, or intellectual crybabies would start to annoy me - which was pretty damned often.  Unlike some other members of my staff, Al understood the need for aggression and a show of strength at a cellular level.  This was not a man who would doubt the wisdom of ordering a squad of B52s to bomb the Ho Chi Minh trail. Far from it; his eyes would light up with glee and his boundless joy would be more than he could contain. When the order for an attack was given his only two questions would be when does it start, and how many runs would be enough to blow those deceitful yellow commies back to the negotiating table.

Al's most important role, though, was to be my eyes and ears in terms of Henry.  Kissinger was a vital asset to be sure, but he was also deceitful and cunning - ready to upstage the president at any moment, and thus was someone who required a very short leash.  And Al was exactly the sort of man I needed yanking that leash whenever Henry would start to bark a bit too loud.  Al was blindly loyal, never questioned an order, willing to do whatever it took to ensure that the president maintain order and discipline in the land, and eager to unleash violence on all enemies foreign and domestic without a second thought.  He was a brutal sociopath, but he was my brutal sociopath.

I have many fond memories of Al, but the one that always brings a smile to my face is one meeting with me, Al, and Henry, during which we were discussing what to do about the over reaction by the press to a few hippies getting shot at Kent State University.  Al was resolute, and wanted to issue a terse statement to the press amounting to "They played with fire and got burned." Henry, on the other hand, wanted to be more conciliatory toward the left, believing it could win us points.  Al began to bubble over with anger over what he viewed as appeasement, when he suddenly turned to Henry, reached under his coat, pulled out his pistol, pointed it at Henry's forehead, cocked the hammer, and said in an almost inaudible voice, "Goddamit, Kissinger, if you think we should kiss the ass of those liberal traitors I will splatter your egg-headed, Jew brains all over the Oval Office."  I decided enough was enough, told Al that we should be adult about it, and say something non-committal about the whole thing, and let it rest. Al slowly returned his weapon to the holster, whispered that Henry was very lucky, then let out a fart.  We all laughed.

Good times.

 Nixon is: Doleful

Sticks and Stones

My fellow Americans,

It seems that modern politicians have much more freedom in expressing themselves once they've left office. Such as Dick Cheney's recent comments about President Obama.

After my term as Vice President ended, it was understood that once out of office I was supposed to hold my tongue in order to preserve some traditional form of dignity.  Well, I've always been a good soldier, and have always tried to do what is best for my party and my nation. So, even though I had to clench my teeth during that damned Kennedy's term, I kept my peace. Sure, I'd vent some of that anger by putting Pat in her place, or shooting songbirds, but I never made a speech complaining of the Irish conspiracy that stole the election. The unexpected benefit was that it helped temper my steel into the finely honed blade that filleted McCarthy in '68.

But even if I were to have spoken up, I would have been very careful to never directly criticize the president. That's not my style.  It lacks subtlety or flair. Construct a strawman and then tear it to shreds is the Nixon way! At the very best, direct criticism just makes one look like they've spent their time away from public service harvesting a very large crop of sour grapes, and looking for all the world like a pathetic, bitter little man - possibly riddled with phelbitis.

Of course, Cheney was never subtle and could be the most petty and vengeful of people. I recall that he had some small function in my administration as a unrestrained mad dog, and even then we all found him to be far too abrasive. He always wore that sneer, and never understood the art of stabbing someone with a velvet glove. He also would release the most foul and eye-watering flatulence.

It saddens me to see someone like Cheney publicly wallowing in their anger. The course I chose was to allow all the bile and resentment to slowly ferment over time, turning me into an even more lethal and vindictive person. Turning me into the best damn Nixon I could be.

Nixon is: Sanctimonious

A Retard by Any Other Name

My fellow Americans,

It seems that we as a people (and more specifically, we Republicans as a group) are getting soft. We've lost the fortitude that allowed us to stand up to the likes of Hitler and Daniel Ellsberg, while also pulverizing opponents like McGovern or Allende into jelly.

Worse yet, what is particularly distressing is how those who lead, or who hope to lead, have also become pathetic, dribbling weaklings - demanding apologies for the slightest perceived offense. So you can imagine my supreme disappointment when Gov Sarah Palin, potential candidate for President in 2012 and the self proclaimed "pitbull with lipstick" became offended by a cartoon that made fun of retarded kids.  A Cartoon! Not an editorial in the Times or the Post, but a cartoon.

Our leaders need to be strong and able to withstand the brutality, vitriol, and character assassination that comes with the responsibility of power. Did I cry and demand an apology when the Democrats started calling me 'Tricky Dick,' or when those subversive newspaper cartoonists drew unsavory pictures of me, sweaty and grime-covered, climbing out of a sewer?

Of course not. I always gave as good as I got. In Moscow in 1959, when Kruschev tried to get the better of me in the kitchen debate, I didn't fold up and demand an apology. I fought back.  And that's what Gov. Palin needs to do. Just shut her trap about her damned mongoloid child and go on the offensive. She's shown she's capable of it. Her malicious lies and despicable slander of President Obama during the 2008 campaign were almost as good as my savage 'Pink Lady' strategy against Helen Gahagan Douglas back in 1950.  The trouble is, Palin is one of those distasteful, mealy-mouthed prima donnas who can dish it out but can't take it, and ends up getting her ruffled panties in a twist whenever things get rough. Just like a dame.

Politics is a rough business, and it needs to be. If a candidate is unable to handle the unfriendly treatment of the press or their competitor, how would they ever be able to look a communist in the eye, or be able to give the command to bomb Cambodia? Regret and compassion are only acceptable in concession speeches, and even then only if contrasted by pettiness and seething, bitter animosity. Asking for an apology - even for mocking a defenseless retard - is for losers.

Nixon is: Revolted

Presidents' Day

My fellow Americans,

Monday is "Presidents' Day."  I'm not sure I like the idea of having only one day stand for every president.  It seems it gives too much credit to those that are unworthy.  After all, one could argue that while some presidents deserve special recognition (like Teddy Roosevelt, or Rutherford B Hayes), others ought to have their graves exhumed and their bones ground into paste for use as a salve for shingles (I'm looking at you, Grover Cleveland!).

Why should I, the president who opened the door to China and faced down Leonid Brezhnev, share a day with some spoiled pretty boy whose greatest accomplishment was spouting off some grade-school German?  You didn't see me in South Vietnam saying something silly like "I am a Saigoner" in whatever bloop-bloop way those people have of speaking. I never could get the hand of that language like Henry did.  It was too hard on my Quaker tongue.  Now French, that's a Language for me.  Sure, it makes you feel a little fruity when speaking it, but it's a good language.  A clean language.  A republican language.

But no, the country loved that Rum-Running sonofabitch's kid. Even though I was the one who nailed that pinko Alger Hiss.  I was the one who went toe-to-toe with the Soviets.  I had to clean up the mess in Indochina.  I had to deal with that insane demagogue in Havana.  I had to put my foot down and keep those smelly hippies in line.  I did all the hard work, while that playboy got by on looks and that goddamn Harvard accent.  I didn't have daddy to clear my path through life.  I had to do it on my own - working in my father's grocery store in Yorba Linda.  You know ... an Orthogonian, like the rest of you ...

All I ask is while you're drinking your Gin & Tonics, to give a little thought to how much you're all missing.  After all, you don't have Nixon to kick around anymore.


Nixon is: Angry