Bewitched

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My fellow Americans,

It seems that even after an election, candidates (even losers) can still face slander, character assassination, and political attacks.  Christine O'Donnell, the simpleton, teabag senatorial candidate from Delaware (and who is not a witch), is being investigated by the Citizens for Responsibility and Ethics in Washington (CREW) for misappropriation of campaign funds, and using the money for personal expenses.  It’s a serious charge, and one that takes me back to my time as a young, brash candidate facing a similar problem.

In 1952, as candidate for Vice President, I was blindsided by some rumors and whispers coming from Adlai Stevenson’s camp regarding some funny business with my campaign funds.  Let me be perfectly clear: these were completely false, and so of course I denied it.  But the pinkos in the press were out to crucify me and they just wouldn't let up.  Soon even Ike was starting to doubt me.

Now, you have to understand that painting a candidate with a brush of corruption is a political strategy as old as time itself. While I preferred attacking patriotism and character, I also occasionally used the spectre of financial shenanigans.   And even if done in a clumsy manner, say the way the republicans tried to smear the Clintons with Whitewater in the 90's, it is effective.

For the person targeted by these accusations, the trick is in how to combat it. One way is to take the high-road; ignore the charges and hope that doing so denies them any legitimacy and they go away.  The alternative is the aggressive approach in which one vigorously denies them to prove themselves innocent.  In ’52 I first tried the former.  However, ignoring the charge didn’t work because the press kept the accusations alive.  As a result, the pressure mounted and so I was forced into the latter and had to publicly defend myself.

I had to make my case, convince the public and Ike that I was innocent and exonerate myself, or resign as Ike's running mate.  Since I have never been a quitter, and leaving before the election is completed is abhorrent to every instinct in my body, I had no choice. So I demanded and got 30 minutes of TV time to refute the charges.  I knew that this was a one-shot deal. 

When the red-light on the television camera turned on, I began.  I artfully laid out my finances, warts and all, for scrutiny.  I accounted for every cent, showing both the origin and destination of my personal income, and showed where the campaign funds were allocated.  I pointed out how I owned an average car, had a mortgage, and how my wife didn’t have a mink coat but a respectable republican cloth coat.  In other words, I showed that I was just like the Joe Sixpacks and Sally Lunchpails out there watching me: an average Orthogonian being unfairly attacked by privileged Franklins.  Then, as a coup de grace, I admitted to one potentially slight violation of campaign contributions: I mentioned how a donor gave my family a dog, and I stood up with as much fire and grit as I could, choking back emotion, and defiantly stated that since my girls seemed to like it, we were keeping him.  And that dog saved my ass.

Although it was the most effective speech I ever gave and the response was overwhelmingly positive, it was the most humiliating experience of my life.  Easily the bitterest pill I've ever had to swallow - even worse than getting out-schemed by that damned Kennedy in '60 or being mocked by the press in my California gubernatorial defeat in '62. I would have much preferred to have the rumor die quietly.

But Ms. O’Donnell doesn’t seem to be bothering with trying to ignore things.  When news of the investigation broke out, she immediately took the offensive and vehemently denied any wrongdoing by issuing a statement saying the charges are politically motivated.  She’s adopting a scattergun defense, taking aim at everyone from her own campaign workers to Vice President Joe Biden, accusing them all of targeting her in some liberal conspiracy to bring her down, stating,

"You have to look at this whole thug-politic tactic for what it is [...] Given that the king of the Delaware political establishment just so happens to be the vice president of the most liberal presidential administration in U.S. history, it is no surprise that misuse and abuse of the FBI would not be off the table"

Now, on the surface it would seem that Ms. O’Donnell is doing exactly what I did nearly 60 years ago - bravely facing down the charges. Except that her defense isn't one.  Unlike me, she hasn't offered any evidence or facts to prove her innocence.  No financial records or proof of income.  In fact, all she's done is accuse others of ganging up on her.  It's a risky tactic because it's far too transparent and stinks of a guilty person desperately trying to deflect the truth.  

Not only that, but her victimization claim seems shaky. Back in '52 when it happened to me I was an active candidate for Vice President addressing an assault during a hotly contested campaign. O'Donnell has already lost her campaign, having been stomped and publicly exposed as a lightweight, and is fading into the obscurity of being a political asterix.  She’s no more than a punch line to a joke about embarrassing American political campaigns, and has about as much relevance as a half-eaten egg salad sandwich left on a bench in some rural bus depot.

In other words, her claiming to be some sort of victim of a cabal run by evolutionists, masturbators, and papists simply doesn’t make any sense.  A "conspiracy" defense only works for people who are already (or potentially) in a position of power.

Sure, it's completely absurd and makes her seem more of a paranoid nincompoop than she already is.  But, bless her dimwitted heart, at least she’s fighting.  Who cares if she’s doesn't have the capacity to understand that the idea she’s being targeted is ludicrous?  She’s going down swinging and sticking to her pig-ignorance.  Does it matter that she's already admitted guilt by confirming that she spent campaign funds on her rent since she claimed her home doubled as her headquarters?  Not in the least. We already knew she was completely stupid, but at least now we also know the little dullard has guts.  And that’s got to count for something.

My advice to Ms. O'Donnell is to get a dog.   Preferably a Cocker Spaniel.

Nixon Approves

Sen. Jim Bunning: A Profile In Courage

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My fellow Americans,

It isn't often that we get to witness a lone man display extreme tenacity in the face of adversity.  Particularly not in the world of politics, where one's integrity is often compromised several times in an hour in order to help expedite a lunch order.

Happily, today we get to see a supreme example of a man who absolutely does not care about anything but himself.  A man whose narcissism and delusion are so grand that it defies description. A man who perfectly exemplifies the attitude of "I don't care about you.  Fuck you."

Senator Jim Bunning, (R. KY) is nothing if not a giant middle finger to every American who is struggling during this long recession.  By single-handedly holding up the passage of a bill to extend unemployment and COBRA benefits to more than a million needy Americans, Sen. Bunning is showing a level of disdain and contempt for the common man not seen since Marie Antoinette.

 

This is the world's smallest violin playing just 

for the unemployed slobs out there.

And why should Sen. Bunning give a wet rat's ass about you, your kids, or that guy down the street who lost his job? Sure, it's easy to simply categorize him (as the Democrats and liberal press are doing) as a heartless a man who has nothing but hatred and scorn for people out of work. And my comment about that is, so what?  I applaud Jim Bunning for standing up for himself.  Whether his cause is right or not doesn't matter.  Every now and then a politician has to stand up and remain strong, regardless of what the issue is.  Even if it means dragging the country through prolonged agony.

However, the most delightful aspect of all is when Sen. Bunning read a letter from "Robert in Louisville" who is supposedly out of work, but supportive of Bunning's stalling the unemployment assistance bill.  It's one of the oldest lies in the book (and one I used with great success in my Checkers speech): you fabricate some poor slob without two nickles to rub together to represent all those working class Joes who will get screwed by your policy, and claim they wrote you to say that even though you're making them suffer, they support you and will sacrifice for you because you're doing The Right Thing.  And the rubes buy it every time. It's sublime.  It's elegant.  It's the Nixon way. 

Of course, ultimately Sen. Bunning will lose his crusade, and the bill will pass.  And he'll slink back to the hills of Kentucky, where he'll dream of the good old days of lounging on a porch, sipping Juleps while listening to the dulcet sounds of the darkies working the fields, and dreaming of spending half an hour in the dusky embrace of his octaroon housekeeper.  But in the mean time, Jim Bunning has reminded us all of what America once was.  A nation of God Fearing White Christians who could do what they wanted without concern over sacrificing the poor, the colored, or the immigrants, and who could have any who disagreed labeled a communist and thrown in jail.

Ah, nostalgia!

Nixon Approves

I'm Sorry You're So Ungrateful

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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