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Jan. 15th, 2009
(no subject)
Jan. 15th, 2009 09:05 pmMy Dinners With Dubya- a fascinating article about dining at the White House, by a college friend of (the younger) Barbara Bush.
*
“Hello, Mr. President. Brian Smith. Yes, sorry about that. I was in an accident... ”
He interrupts. “Well, the girls are getting ready and I’m supposed to give you a tour, Smitty. Let’s get you something to drink first. How about a beer?” He turns and shouts to a butler, “One beer for Smitty, and I’ll have a non-beer.”
Before I know it, I have a Heineken in hand, and the president of the United States has a “non-beer” in his, and we begin an unscheduled tour of the White House residence. He continues to address me as Smitty, a name I haven’t been called since Little League.
...
Nearly another year later, on February 24, 2004, I’m in my boyfriend’s apartment, passively watching TV, when a rare presidential press conference catches my attention. I lean forward, hoping for good news from the Middle East. Instead, the president of the United States announces that the Constitution must be amended to ensure that I will never marry the man I love. I shut off the TV and sit in silence. I feel sorry for my friend Barbara, who has always surrounded herself with gay friends. I wonder if she is as ashamed of her father as I am. I am saddened and confused by him—by how he considers me to be both “a good boy” and half of a man.
I decide that my graduation chair was facing the wrong direction after all.
“Hello, Mr. President. Brian Smith. Yes, sorry about that. I was in an accident... ”
He interrupts. “Well, the girls are getting ready and I’m supposed to give you a tour, Smitty. Let’s get you something to drink first. How about a beer?” He turns and shouts to a butler, “One beer for Smitty, and I’ll have a non-beer.”
Before I know it, I have a Heineken in hand, and the president of the United States has a “non-beer” in his, and we begin an unscheduled tour of the White House residence. He continues to address me as Smitty, a name I haven’t been called since Little League.
Nearly another year later, on February 24, 2004, I’m in my boyfriend’s apartment, passively watching TV, when a rare presidential press conference catches my attention. I lean forward, hoping for good news from the Middle East. Instead, the president of the United States announces that the Constitution must be amended to ensure that I will never marry the man I love. I shut off the TV and sit in silence. I feel sorry for my friend Barbara, who has always surrounded herself with gay friends. I wonder if she is as ashamed of her father as I am. I am saddened and confused by him—by how he considers me to be both “a good boy” and half of a man.
I decide that my graduation chair was facing the wrong direction after all.
(no subject)
Jan. 15th, 2009 09:55 pmWow; in Perdita Durango, Javier Bardem manages to have a hairstyle that's even more messed up than the one he had in No Country For Old Men.
