Inside McCain’s brain

Hope burns eternal, and in an effort to be unbiased in this election year, I picked up the October Atlantic and began reading a lengthy page 40 feature titled “The Wars of John McCain.” The cover featured a headshot of the Senator from Arizona. Something in his eyes looked “sincere,” but I grew up during World War II, and always was a sucker for a man in uniform. Any man in uniform, though as I recall, I tended to favor celluloid pilots in flight jackets as I recall.

So on I read. The text (interspersed with lively photos) seemed to be mostly focused on why McCain supports various wars, including the one in ‘Nam. He thinks that one could have been won, if only the troops had more support, both there and here. He also believes our current war (the one in the Middle East) could be won. If only …

Midway through the article, I began to feel for McCain, if only because he seems almost schizophrenic, or at least, greatly confused. At this stage he’s pretty old (my age) to be trying to remember what confused him. Everyday I get more pissed over his choice of Sara Palin as a running mate, though likely it’s because other possible choices recognized the sinking ship and ran for cover, leaving him to fly (almost) solo with the embarrassment from Alaska, where by the way, a huge rally was staged to protest her ideas. I went to Maureen Dowd’s site, a site recommended by fellow blogger Bobrow, and at least had a moment of hilarious respite from the depressing Atlantic article.

For the past year, I’ve been writing a weekly column for my old hometown Iowa newspaper, which has been publishing for 150 years. I fear the 1,000 readers (mostly Republican) aren’t quite adjusted to my column. A few weeks ago, I addressed Cindy McCain’s hideously expensive ensemble, trotted out at the Republican National Convention, and asked why her advisors allowed her to trot forth in rich rags when most readers are down to their last barrel.

Incoming! Along came an email from a Lieutenant in the United States Air Force. He wasn’t exactly nasty (the volley was signed “Very Respectfully Yours”), but he took strong issue with what he perceived to be an endorsement for the Dems, nevermind that the column included fashionista references to Jackie-O, Bess Truman, Nancy Reagan and Rosalind Carter. I ended the column by saying “considering the number of service people who return from the disastrous middle east war, minus arms and legs, Cindy’s frock seemed of no consequence.” He still didn’t get it, and asked me, “Have you ever even been to Iraq?” And then, “have you ever been thanked by an Iraqi kid who you gave candy to?”

Very Respectfully Yours,
Dem Bones