Politics Make Strange...

I've used this blog in the past to come clean about my crushes. I've spoken very honestly about the men in my life, such as Rob Lowe, Daniel Day-Lewis, and Johnny Depp. I even shared with you my List. Now it's time for more truth. There is one man for whom I have an almost wistful reverence and obsessive concern. After the tsunami I watched the television news for glimpses of him to see if he was looking wan or exhausted. I fretted over his health and welfare. In the past six years, I have often longed for his wisdom and levelheadedness. And recently, I applauded his fiery spirit and dauntless self-defense.

I'm speaking, of course, about President Bill Clinton.

This man had me at the start of the presidential campaign in his first term. He wore tan suits and baby blue shirts when everyone else was trying to "look presidential" in dark suits and sedate ties. His lilting Dixie accent sounded homespun and soothing and belied the incredible intelligence and sophistication he possessed. His wife wore horrific headbands, but what did I care? I wasn't electing a First Lady fashion icon; I was electing a president! Besides, everyone knew that Jackie O would always be the First Lady of Fashion. I'd like to see a Republican First Lady come close to being a style setter like her. The Bushwomen...well, not even. And do not even try to mention Nancy Reagan. If it weren't for red suits, she'd be a nothing. Feh!

The thing about Bill was, when he spoke, I always got the incredible feeling that he truly meant every single thing he said. And that he truly did care--deeply--about America. And every single American. And that he was smart. He never smirked or snorted behind the Presidential seal. He didn't have to. He was Presidential because he knew what he was doing and it was the right thing because he thought about it, he cared about it, and he wasn't doing it behind everyone's back, including the Constitution's. I could have done without the "thumb up" gesture all the time, but hey, we all have our little idiosyncrasies. And, apparently, that's a good one because John Edwards uses it now. Maybe it's a Southern thing.

I used to watch Bill at big events held in his honor or at which he was a guest of honor. He'd be introduced, naturally, and everyone would clap and all. Sometimes the events would be intensely emotional or patriotic, and the camera would zoom in, and there he'd be, eyes all welled up, but smiling. Almost like he's thinking to himself, "Oh my God. I am the President of this incredible country and I can't believe it. This is just too much."

It was devastating when Gore lost the First Election of the Dark Times. And I started missing Bill right away. I tried giving the Angel of Death the benefit of the doubt, and before September 11th, I thought, "Maybe this moron will just hide out and not do much damage, just play with some toys under the big desk and we'll be okay for four years." But no.

During the Kerry campaign, I was thrilled to hear that Bill was going to campaign. And then it happened: the heart surgery. A flurry of emails flew between my friend Leanne in southern Maryland (only 45 minutes from D.C.!) and me. Relieved to hear he was out of surgery and would be fine, I began to concern myself with his recovery. "This situation is less than ideal, " I wrote Leanne. "After all, Hillary does not strike me as the caring, nurturing type. She will probably not even be home, or , if she does go to him, she will probably be busy on her laptop or cell phone and fax machine. She might stress him out with Senate business. I can't see her fluffing his pillow or arranging the duvet. Likely she will not fill his pill minder or see that he is properly hydrated. Things could go downhill fast and she will not even notice. She might not even see if he is paler than normal. What a terrible thing. When Rick had his spinal surgery, I was home with him all summer. I made the doctor do a thyroid level test because I thought his eyebrows looked sparse! Do you think Hillary even knows what color his eyebrows are?"

Fast forward to the tsunami relief effort. When I heard that Bill was going to be flitting around the world on a plane with Bush41, I almost had a spasm. What was he thinking? And then, the news that he gave up his bed to 41 because the man is older made me almost apoplectic. Bill is a heart patient fergodsakes! I saw report after report where Bill looked tired and listless. I began to perseverate about his health. The pouches under his eyes became more pronounced. I emailed Leanne, "This trip is ill-advised. Very ill-advised. Again, I question Hillary's dedication here. Why didn't she step in and put her foot down? I would have told him that no way is he jetting off, gallivanting and traipsing around, compromising his recovery. He's not eighteen, you know."

Thankfully, Bill made a complete recovery in spite of himself. (AND Hillary's obvious indifference, I have to say.) This was evident in his sparring match with Chris Wallace on the Faux News Network recently. He looked very fit. Quite. And still very Presidential. I may be able to stop worrying now, but I still miss him. Can't he run again? Because, we need him. And I don't want to hear a lot of bullshit about the monica thing--yes, small things deserve small letters, and it was a small thing. I don't give a flying fuck in a rolling doughnut who does who or how or what in the Oval Office, even if it's on my dime. Did it cost 2700+ American lives? Did it destabilize an entire region? Was it anyone's business, really? In the broad panorama of any context, was it anyone's business and did it really matter? Did it make us less safe at home or abroad? Are you really better off now, in the grasp of the Angel of Death and Darth Vader?

Sigh. I miss those Bill Times. Who do we have that can follow him? Who is our next Democratic Rock Star President? I know who I'd like...but I'd rather have Bill.