From: gwb
To: Hank Blakely
Sent: Monday, May 27, 2002
Subject: Like a fickle-minded real live girl
 
'Nother time I remember is back when I was young and bein' prepared at a school near Boston, called Andover. I was half-growed, and my heart 'd break easy.
 
There was this girl named Wanda who was a great distraction on me. I'd be in the middle a' thinkin' bout somethin', and she'd walk by and my head 'd go blank. I eventually hit on the trick a' writin' down what I'd been thinkin' whenever she come around.
 
One time there come this school dance, and somehow I got the nerve to ask Wanda . And two strange things happen: one, she said "yes," and two, I didn't faint when she said it.
 
See, Wanda 'd always been a one for the athletic supporters, and it didn't figure that a cheerleader 'd be worth two cents to her — even though cheerleadin's a sport too! Don't you let nobody tell you it ain't! — But I'd asked her real early, and Poppy was gettin' to be somethin' uvva big deal, and that helped some too.
 
But things wasn't smooth. About a week 'fore the dance, Wanda told me she was gonna go with somebody else. A' course I was devastational, but I scarced up a date with Margot, a girl who was likely to be the last to be asked if she was asked at all.. Next day Wanda tells me she's changed her mind and wants to go with me after all, so a' course I hadda cancel Margot . Then day after that Wanda says she got a better offer and once more ain't goin' with me, so I got Margot back. Then Wanda said she'd changed her mind again, etc. etc. Long and short, I wound up takin' Margot.
 
I mention this 'cause I been thinkin' and amusin' this week on the subject a' fickleness. And it come to me that the American people makes Wanda look like the Rock a' Gibraltar.
 
It just don't make no sense. What the hell do they want from me, anyhow?
 
It ain't like I come as a surprise to nobody. Durin' the campaign I couldn't go nowhere 'thout somebody sayin what a dumb rabbit I is. Look, no BS — tell the truth and shame the devil, and all that - I ain't 'xactly been savin' up the glory all these years. I ain't been that much uvva student, or athalete, or manager, or businessman, or fighter pilot, or governor, or even father or husband. But up to now, for reasons I don't quite get, ever'body's been sayin' I was a great President, and I always figured they must know what they talkin' about. Now a few memos come to light, 'n ever'body's all shocked to find out I'm just who I always been. I've lied and cheated and just scraped by most a' my life. Who the hell was they expectin': Winston damned Churchill?
 
And God help your butt once the newspaper folk smell blood in the water. All uvva sudden ever' jerk what can hold a pencil in both hands thinks he's the goddamned Pulitzer Prize. They about fallin' over each other to make me look bad. I never liked newspapers. They's bad when they lie and worse when they tells the truth.
 
And now the deflections is startin'. Karen tells me she's "too young to be wolf bait," and that "Louis had the right idea." What the hell's that 'sposed to mean? Is that part a' this FBI stuff?
 
Maybe it's a little bit my fault. I been doin' the one thing Dick C and Karl said I had better not do — getttin' opinions. But you look around at what's goin' on ever'where, and after a while it starts to get to you. I come to realize that I don't half understand what's happenin' and people's expectin' me to fix it anyway. I was happier back when I didn't notice things as much.
 
It's gettin' harder to find nothin' to believe in anymore.