From: egl1@cunixf.cc.columbia.edu (Elizabeth G. Levy)
Newsgroups: alt.politics.bush,alt.politics.elections
Subject: Kris Kringle Mode
Date: 6 Sep 92 17:56:35 GMT
Reply-To: egl1@cunixf.cc.columbia.edu (Elizabeth G. Levy)
Organization: Columbia University

KRIS KRINGLE MODE

by Russell Baker

[copied w/o permission from the NYT, 9/5/92, p.19]

Everybody at our house was excited about President Bush roaming the
country granting boons.  He had been seen in South Dakota giving
big money to wheat people.  Then he had turned up in Texas where a
lot of people who make high-tech warplanes for a living were about
to be jobless on account of high-tech war becoming such a slow
business.

"Not to worry," the President told those Texans, or words to that
effect.  He had changed his foreign policy, whether China liked it
or not, so Taiwan could buy billions of dollars worth of high-tech
warplanes.  Oh, what joy in Texas!

It was like the end of "It's a Wonderful Life" with James Stewart
under the Christmas tree surrounded by loving freinds, goodness,
and, yes, financial security.

Mother was still mopping her tears when Uncle Cleve burst in with
news that President Bush had just announced that, contrary to
longstanding Pentagon plans, Florida's Homestead Air Force Base
would not be closed after all, even though Hurrican Andrew had just
destroyed it.

"I can't wait for President Bush to come to our town," Uncle Cleve
said.  Little Rose said, "We'd better clean the chimney and open
the damper so he won't have any trouble getting in."

Mother explained that President Bush doesn't come down the chimney.
"And he doesn't travel by reindeer either," said little Laura, who
is really too wise for her years.  "He travels by two great big
airplanes, one holding the President and the money he's giving
away, and the other holding the media who have to take pictures of
the joy he's spreading."

Uncle Irwin suggested we get the children to bed early.  While the
record on this phase of the Bush Presidency was very skimpy, maybe
the President wouldn't come unless the children were snuggled tight
in their beds.

I said the President would surely want the photo-op people to have
a background of tiny tots with their eyes alight.  "And how would
some tykes with eyes as big as saucers?" asked little Kate, who is
already a wise guy at age 7.

Uncle Irwin wasn't amused by Kate's cynicism.  And no wonder.  His
business went bankrupt last winter for lack of customers, and he
had serious things on his mind, as we discovered when we started
writing our letters telling President Bush what we wanted for the
election.

Uncle Irwin was asking for $4.5 million in cash to satisfy his
creditors and 17,000 new customers ready to spend.  "That's
selfish," said Uncle Cleve.  "Putting 17,000 customers on two
planes -- there wouldn't be room to bring goodies for the rest of
us."

We sympathized with Uncle Cleve.  He is in the business of
restoring beautiful but decaying old houses for young investment
bankers and, not having worked for two years, he wanted the
President to bring him five beautiful but decaying old houses
furnished with young investment bankers.

As in all families, excessive greed marred many of the letters to
the President.  For instance, Cousin Bart, who can't afford health
insurance for his large, excessively ailing and death-prone family,
asked the President to bring him some.

Bart started to hang a stocking on the mantle so the President
could stuff it with health insurance, but Grandfather put his foot
down.

"You're asking the President to bring socialized medicine into this
house," he said, "and while I know the President will never stand
for socialized medicine, he might be affected by the spirit of the
season and suffer a temporary lapse of policy.  I won't permit it
in this house."

No, Grandfather is not a doctor, just a man of principle who has
lived 95 years free of illness and believes everybody else can do
the same by refusing the temptations to use any of Grandfather's
funds in public investment.

Sister Elvira wrote the shortest letter to the President.  She is a
single mother.  Her letter said, "Bring me the head of J. Danforth
Quayle."

Our hopes for a visit from President Bush are not high.  Still, we
lie awake far into the night listening for the clatter of airplane
wheels on the rooftop and the "Ho ho ho" of a jolly old gent
stepping out of Air Force One.


--
"I wish I could vote for you a hundred times"
"You can . . . just kidding."
			-- _Bob Roberts_
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