From: gwb
To: Hank Blakely
Sent: Monday, April 16, 2001
Subject: About when I met the monkey
This has been a frustratin' coupla weeks. 'Specially this China thing. Tell ya, for a while there we did not know which end our head was stickin' out of. Then there was lotsa infightin', too. Things between Colin and Don got so bad I thought we might have our own little war right here in the WH - in addition to the one Don kept sayin' we oughtta be preparin' for. Our official position changed so much, I hardly had a chance to memorize my statements. As soon as I got one down, they'd hand me another one completely different. I had to read most of them off'a notes I wrote on my cuffs. I ran through a lotta shirts last week.
The worst part is they kept cuttin' me outta the deliverations, like they always do when things get dicey. I don't like that one bit. Don't I have a brain? If ya ask me, I am overly underrated.
The way I was treated puts me in mind of somethin' kinda odd happened back last fall. The campaign was hot and heavy then, and we couldn't really tell which way things was gonna go, although Jeb said he "had some plans". We had this big war council at the L'Enfant Plaza hotel in DC, all key people: Dick C, Karl, Tom, Trent, Karen, Jeb, and Poppy and me.
Then, just like now, nobody wouldn't let me say nothin'. They just kept tellin' me to concentrate on my speeches, and get out and "sell yourself". At one point I got so frustrated, I was ready to tell 'em all off, but Laura got my coat and talked me inta goin' out 'til I'd cooled down some.
When we got outside the hotel, there was this big crowd lookin' at somethin' on the sidewalk. we moved in close enough to see what was goin' on, but not so close that people would notice us and the Secret Service.
The crowd was circled around a man with a hand-organ - I guess you call it a hurdy-gurdy - and a monkey that was doin' tricks.. The man playin' the music was quite a sight: kinda bald, with round spectacles, a big pretend-mustache, a loose-fittin' shirt and vest, and big baggy pants. But it was the monkey that was gettin' all the attention. He was just the cutest little thing; one'a them "Cappuccinos", I think y'call 'em, with a little red pillbox hat, a red vest with gold buttons and trimmin', and a beat-up old tin cup that he was wavin' around.
That monkey seemed to be ever'where at once. He'd jump up on the hurdy-gurdy man's shoulders. Then he'd jump down and whirl around, spinnin' like a disco-dancer, do a back-flip, and land right in front of someone in the audience. Then he'd cock his little head to one side and hold out the tin cup. Well, you couldn't help it, you just had to drop in some coins.
All this time, the hurdy-gurdy man was smilin' and noddin' and crankin' out music for all he was worth. But, y'know, after a while, I commence to notice that he was actually noddin' at a coupla men movin' through the audience real quiet and fast. And then I saw they was stealin' stuff from people's shoppin' bags and purses! And just as I realized that, the monkey, now only a few feet away, turned and looked right at me. And now, here's the odd thing: when he did that, our eyes kinda locked together, and for a moment it felt like we was lookin' right into each other; like I could tell what was in his mind, and he could do the same with me. And I could feel this big sadness in him, so strong it made me feel like cryin'. And even stranger, it felt like he was feelin' sorry for me, too.
Then, just like that, he was back to whirlin' around and doin' his tricks. I noticed then that one of the Secret Service was talkin' quietly into his lapel. He'd seen the pick-pockets too, and was alertin' the local police. Then they hustled us outta there 'fore any trouble started.
I don't think I'll ever forget that moment, though, or the...understandin' that seemed to pass between me and that monkey. Poor li'l fella. He was just a dumb animal. He didn't know they was usin' him to take advantage of the audience.
'Course, neither did the audience.
Whew! How'd I get started on all that? I meant to talk about how I spent the last two weeks. Guess that'll have to wait 'til next time. I'm on the road this week - all this tax cut and stuff.
Y'all be good now. 'Til next time,
Your pal,
W
From: gwb
To: Hank Blakely
Sent: Monday, April 16, 2001
Subject: About when I met the monkey
This has been a frustratin' coupla weeks. 'Specially this China thing. Tell ya, for a while there we did not know which end our head was stickin' out of. Then there was lotsa infightin', too. Things between Colin and Don got so bad I thought we might have our own little war right here in the WH - in addition to the one Don kept sayin' we oughtta be preparin' for. Our official position changed so much, I hardly had a chance to memorize my statements. As soon as I got one down, they'd hand me another one completely different. I had to read most of them off'a notes I wrote on my cuffs. I ran through a lotta shirts last week.
The worst part is they kept cuttin' me outta the deliverations, like they always do when things get dicey. I don't like that one bit. Don't I have a brain? If ya ask me, I am overly underrated.
The way I was treated puts me in mind of somethin' kinda odd happened back last fall. The campaign was hot and heavy then, and we couldn't really tell which way things was gonna go, although Jeb said he "had some plans". We had this big war council at the L'Enfant Plaza hotel in DC, all key people: Dick C, Karl, Tom, Trent, Karen, Jeb, and Poppy and me.
Then, just like now, nobody wouldn't let me say nothin'. They just kept tellin' me to concentrate on my speeches, and get out and "sell yourself". At one point I got so frustrated, I was ready to tell 'em all off, but Laura got my coat and talked me inta goin' out 'til I'd cooled down some.
When we got outside the hotel, there was this big crowd lookin' at somethin' on the sidewalk. we moved in close enough to see what was goin' on, but not so close that people would notice us and the Secret Service.
The crowd was circled around a man with a hand-organ - I guess you call it a hurdy-gurdy - and a monkey that was doin' tricks.. The man playin' the music was quite a sight: kinda bald, with round spectacles, a big pretend-mustache, a loose-fittin' shirt and vest, and big baggy pants. But it was the monkey that was gettin' all the attention. He was just the cutest little thing; one'a them "Cappuccinos", I think y'call 'em, with a little red pillbox hat, a red vest with gold buttons and trimmin', and a beat-up old tin cup that he was wavin' around.
That monkey seemed to be ever'where at once. He'd jump up on the hurdy-gurdy man's shoulders. Then he'd jump down and whirl around, spinnin' like a disco-dancer, do a back-flip, and land right in front of someone in the audience. Then he'd cock his little head to one side and hold out the tin cup. Well, you couldn't help it, you just had to drop in some coins.
All this time, the hurdy-gurdy man was smilin' and noddin' and crankin' out music for all he was worth. But, y'know, after a while, I commence to notice that he was actually noddin' at a coupla men movin' through the audience real quiet and fast. And then I saw they was stealin' stuff from people's shoppin' bags and purses! And just as I realized that, the monkey, now only a few feet away, turned and looked right at me. And now, here's the odd thing: when he did that, our eyes kinda locked together, and for a moment it felt like we was lookin' right into each other; like I could tell what was in his mind, and he could do the same with me. And I could feel this big sadness in him, so strong it made me feel like cryin'. And even stranger, it felt like he was feelin' sorry for me, too.
Then, just like that, he was back to whirlin' around and doin' his tricks. I noticed then that one of the Secret Service was talkin' quietly into his lapel. He'd seen the pick-pockets too, and was alertin' the local police. Then they hustled us outta there 'fore any trouble started.
I don't think I'll ever forget that moment, though, or the...understandin' that seemed to pass between me and that monkey. Poor li'l fella. He was just a dumb animal. He didn't know they was usin' him to take advantage of the audience.
'Course, neither did the audience.
Whew! How'd I get started on all that? I meant to talk about how I spent the last two weeks. Guess that'll have to wait 'til next time. I'm on the road this week - all this tax cut and stuff.
Y'all be good now. 'Til next time,
Your pal,
W
The Monkey's Pause
Dance, monkey, dance!
© 2001- 2, Hank Blakely
