Skinny guy

The skinny guy seems sharp. He seems earnest. He makes jokes about himself before you do. And he talks sense. All this worries me.

The skinny guy seems sharp. He seems earnest. He makes jokes about himself before you do. And he talks sense. All this worries me.

Because if they make him President, in one fell swoop the American people will have taken away the whole world8217;s opportunity to laugh. Mr Bush will disappear quietly into the sunset. To graze where rich retired Presidents go to graze. And in little time the world, in its return to grimness, will forget. The shoulder-shaking chortle. Those wonderful, literature-defying sentences that twist words and combine phrases in jolly abandon. That trademark look, delicately balanced between confusion and blankness, as he comes out of the tailend of another of his famous 8220;Bush-isms8221;.

Instead, we get the skinny guy. Whose eyes burn with passion and intensity. Yet sparkle with intelligent humour. But what can you do with this? You cannot eat cleverness nor laugh at it. It is completely, utterly useless.

And yet the American people, against all expectations, seem to be going for it. I mean, I always thought that a country of people who swung their cricket bats from the shoulder and played football with their hands couldn8217;t be all that smart. But they seem to be in the historic process of proving me wrong. At least that8217;s what their polls indicate. And what if their polls are right? The world gets the skinny guy. Against all odds.

Actually, I think the American people were just so embarrassed with their previous, rather monumental, goof up, that they decided to swing completely the other way. It8217;s like they all conspired in their bars and football fields, over their T Bone steaks and hamburgers, and said: 8220;Let8217;s make him young. And funny. Awesome. And, oh yeah, why don8217;t we colour him, not pink, not splotchy, just some other colour, okay dude? Like any other colour, at least lightly. And you know man, it doesn8217;t matter if his name ain8217;t Jack or John or George, and sounds like someone sticking his tongue out, Baraaaaack! Let8217;s just make sure he8217;s a teeny-weeny bit intelligent, okay?8221;

And so now, they are a nation poised on the brink of returned intelligence. Already their dollar is looking more powerful. And all our jokes are gone. Along with the state of the economy, that is entirely too much to bear.

The other thing is, that a nation takes on the image of its leaders. Take us for instance; completely non-violent like Gandhi, we only occasionally quibble among ourselves.

Story continues below this ad

So what will become of America? Will Americans miraculously lose weight and get smart and light brown like Diet Coke? Or can we inject a glimmer of hope here? May we suggest for example, that in recognition of his yeoman service to mankind they give Mr Bush some kind of special, 8220;kicked upstairs8221;, job?

Not building houses in third world countries like they gave Mr Carter nor the cutting ribbons and smoking cigars one that they gave Mr Clinton. But something more substantial. Like Chairman and Managing Director for External Affairs and Geography. Or President of the Free Republics of Iraq or something. That should keep us smiling for a bit.

And speaking of which, what will they do about Iraq? Will the skinny guy just withdraw? Just say 8220;Oops! Sorry!8221; and tippy-toe away? 8220;Okay guys, pack all those tanks and missiles and thingies along with the rest of your lives and let8217;s get the flock outta here!8221;

Nah! I think he8217;ll do something thoughtful and dynamic and clever. And then he8217;ll turn his breezy attention to the economy and that8217;ll get fixed and they won8217;t need any more Indians to do the jobs their unemployed youth won8217;t do and, guess what, we8217;ll get shafted again.

Story continues below this ad

But what to do, it8217;s as inevitable as those old Charles Atlas comic strip ads: The skinny guy always wins.

Write to the columnist at adipochasyahoo.com