the cub in winter
Oh, this left me tickled. From Bill Munutaglio’s Newsweek piece “The Afterlife of George W. Bush:”
Patrick Bibb, a 19-year old from Dallas, glanced at his cell phone. He was in the middle of his economics class at Texas Christian University on a February morning. His caller ID read WITHHELD. He decided not to answer. When class ended, he checked his message and found that George W. Bush had been trying to reach him.
The sophomore listened to the voicemail. He heard the former President of the United States thank him at least four times. Bush was happy that the teenager had been selling WELCOME HOME, GEORGE & LAURA signs for $20 to people all over Bush’s neighborhood in Texas. ‘I hope this message is sufficient’ to show appreciation, Bibb heard Bush say. Bibb dutifully listened, hung up and went to his other classes.
Bibb, a budding entrepreneur, had decided to make and sell the signs after he learned that the former president would be moving close to his parents’ house. The placards went up all around the exclusive Preston Hollow neighborhood in North Dallas, which is studded with homes worth $5 million to $20 million. Bibb used some of the profits to pay his tuition and decided to donate the rest to a nearby elementary school.
He settled into accounting class. His phone rang again. Bibb decided to pick up. ‘Excuse me, I need to go talk to the president,’ Bibb wisecracked to his pal as he left the room. It was Bush again.
He began thanking Bibb, repeatedly, for making the signs. Bibb listened patiently. He didn’t mean to be rude, but he finally said: ’I'm really sorry, Mr. President. I’m in the middle of class.’ He needed to get off the phone. Bush replied: ‘No problem, that’s where you’re supposed to be.’
Ahhh, poor ol Georgie. Has he got a case of the post-presidential doldrums? Remember when it seemed there would be such a buzz of activity once he left the White House? Wasn’t he going to rack up gazillions traveling hither and yon to address any crowd that would cough up the dough? And what about his purported literary endeavors? Or can’t Tony Blair stop in for a cookout? And what ever became of all that Crawford brush that so urgently needed clearing back he was wading our nation into war?
Then again, maybe we should be thankful that Dubya’s relaxed into domestic anonymity. After all, we’ve got the flip-side in Cheney, who’s tromping across the land, running his yap, peddling his dusty lies, disgracing the legacy of White House retirees, embarrassing himself by still hawking a debunked and retrograde agenda of thuggery.
Maybe we should thank our stars and garters for young Patrick Bibb. At least he’s keeping one of these wackos occupied.
