Ryan’s Song

It’s finally happened. The Bon Jovi songs I knew and loved in college have been transformed into lounge-lizard orchestral elevator muzak. I found myself humming “Whoa-oa, we’re half-way there” as I passed the sixth floor on my way to the twelfth. This is a sure sign that I am aging.  Another one is that…

Well, I can’t remember right now, but a third one is that someone out there is looking to run the free world who is (ulp) younger than I am.

Unless you reside under a rock or perhaps work for the New York Times, you have probably heard that Slick Mitt from Mich and Mass is seeking help with his perennial presidential bid from Paul Ryan, a green-horned baby-face with way too much hair and less body fat than a 2×4. Maybe it’s just me, but there are certain service-providing professions that should always be filled by someone older than the individual being served, such as a doctor, or an airline pilot, or a priest, or a school bus driver. Professional politician also falls into this category of age-appropriate-required professions even though it shouldn’t be a profession in the first place.

Now, I realize that this may come as a shock to all seven of you MSNBC watchers, but I feel it is my duty to inform you that politicians don’t always have all the answers. However, by golly they should at least look like they have all the answers. Even if they have no clue how to solve a problem, politicians should be grey-haired and/or bald with scowls on their faces, and they should tap their wing-tipped shoes as they sternly cross their arms when pondering even the most trivial of life-threatening crises in need of immediate people-pleasing solutions. Just seeing that would give me much more confidence than having someone from my own generation up there wearing loose-fit jeans and flip-flops, giving exploding high-fives to their buds, and belching the alphabet.

In fact, I can perhaps unequivocally say that in no way is my generation prepared to run the free world. We may look like full-grown adults but believe me, when in private it is obvious we are as clueless as any Alicia Silverstone character. My expertise in this area comes from the simple fact that I have lived and worked within my generation for most of my adult life and I have a pretty good idea how we think and act.

It’s not that I or others my age are ankle-biting whippersnappers or anything; I can talk intelligently about lame grown-up topics as much as the next guy (i.e., fiber, property taxes, lawns, prostates, etc.).  But I also tend to exhibit less mature characteristics that are often found in adults who aren’t really, like giggling at fat people falling down or calling someone who flatulates a member of the Black-Bean Percussion Section.

As a hint of what it might be like to have a relatively young person in the White House, just look at our current occupant. He spends much of his time doing the same stuff I did in high-school; he’s always playing basketball or golf and on occasion, even sneaks behind the West Wing to smoke a cigarette. I’m not blaming him at all, because if I were in the oval office I’m pretty sure the first thing I would do would be to set up four or five Nerf hoops and invent a game called ‘Ovalball’, then use the super-secret red hotline phone to try to get me and my buddies on at Augusta.

What’s more, our last three presidents were elected to office in their forties, and even cursory research shows that the Middle East problems we are now experiencing could have been solved long ago had there not been so much cabinet-meeting time holding Office-Chair Olympics in the East Room.

It’s not that I have anything against young, vibrant people. I actually find it quite humorous to watch them try to run in their preposterously positioned pants or carry on a conversation without the words ‘like’ or ‘so’, but that doesn‘t mean I want one within a heart beat of the presidency. Admittedly, I do not want Vice Presidents so old they can throw their own surprise parties either, but they should at least be able to remember the mistakes of the various Presidential administrations of the 1970s.

I realize also that Teddy Roosevelt was younger than I when he was President, but he was older than I at the time, which makes all the difference. A person older than I demands my respect regardless of their actual age, while someone younger than I demands I give him a noogie. And I’m sorry, but Paul Ryan is begging to be noogied.

If Paul Ryan and I had gone to the same high-school he would have been a sophomore when I was a senior, and I do not want a sophomore Vice President. He would spend half his work day just trying to open his locker and then waste the rest of the day asking for a ride home so he doesn‘t have to take the bus. This will severely limit the time he would be out in public and, as any good VP should, executing his duties as Official State Embarrassment.

But this is just one man’s opinion — albeit a man who is very influential. I just happen to be Drum Major of the Black-Bean Percussion Section.

2 thoughts on “Ryan’s Song

  1. Two things, nah, lets’ make that three things.

    1) A request: Try to work the phrase “muzakification of popular songs” into your next column. 🙂

    2) If you’re the Drum Major of the Black Bean Percussion Section, I would be the bean or the dot that dots the “I ” in Section.

    3) You can’t have an alliterative pairing of names in the White House – Romney-Ryan. However they could start another highly successful business venture, the Romney-Ryan Gentleman’s Hair Club. They’ve got it going on in the luxurious locks department.


    • You’ve raised some interesting questions, Paul. 1) Does having an Eddie Munster hairline disqualify one from holding national office? 2) Is ‘muzakification’ a word? If not, I’m afraid that using it in this forum would display my ignoranity. 3) Will I be able to ever watch an Ohio State football game again without thinking of your definition of the ‘i-dot’?


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