August 12, 2004

-The following is an excerpt from the website Fairplay2004.com.

George W. Bush: Tales From the War Years

    Much has been made of John Kerry's war record and his service in Vietnam as a swift boat captain.  Anecdotes about his time in the service have been splashed across the front pages of newspapers and trumpeted from the podiums of the Democratic National Convention.  In a effort to promote fairness and give equal time to both candidates, we present "George W. Bush: A Tale From the War Years."  The following is a narrative from Benny Wilkins, a tire factory worker and native of Montgomery, Alabama.

    "I guess it was back in the summer of 1973 that I first met George W. Bush.  I was living in Montgomery and I had graduated from high school the year before.  I couldn't get into college so I was knocking around and working as a stockboy at the Piggly Wiggly and praying each and every night that I wouldn't get drafted.  A couple of my buds had their numbers come up, and they got sent to boot camp and then straight to Vietnam.  For a couple of years there I was sweating bullets when I wasn't out drinking, hanging out at the local head shop, or going to work at the Piggly Wiggly all fucked up or hung over.

    "Anyway, I had been All-State playing third base my senior year in high school so I was still playing a little ball in my spare time.  The guys at the Piggly Wiggly had a team in a rec league, and we were pretty good.  Well, that summer we played the same six or seven teams over an over.  One of the teams we played was from the Chamber of Commerce, and they were all just a bunch of spoiled rich kids.  That's where I met Beerman.  That's what we called Bush 'cause whenever we would play I would bring a cooler full of Bud.  When he would see me, he would always come up to me and say, 'You got any beer, man?'  Anyways, he wasn't a bad player.  I think he mainly played shortstop.  So after playing a few times we'd sit down when the game was done and finish off all the beer in my ice chest.  Even though he went to Yale and his dad was some kind of bigshot you would never have guessed it.  He was just like the regular fellahs, easy going and friendly-like.  Spittin', cussin', and shotgunnin' beers just like the rest of the guys.  They say he was in the Air Force, but I never seen him in uniform or even hear him talk about it.

    "So the night I'm thinking about must have been in July of 1973 'cause I had finally kicked up enough scratch to move out of my  parents' house on the Fourth of July.  Well, my new apartment was a real shithole - if you'll pardon my French.  So one night after a game was over Beerman - I mean President Bush - and I were sitting in the bleachers finishing off the last couple of Buds.  Well, when he drained that last beer, Beerman looked kinda sad.  Then I told him I had a whole case of Bud in my refrigerator in my new pad just a couple of blocks away and he lit right up.  I invited him over, but with him being rich and all I warned him that my place was a wreck.  The kitchen sink was all clogged up, and I didn't have enough money to pay a plumber to fix it.  When he heard that, he got all excited.  He said, 'Boner' - that's what they used to call me back then and I don't want to talk about why - he said, 'Boner, I can fix that sink for you in a snap then we can have some of them beers.'

    "Now Beerman - I mean President Bush - was what you would call a 'natural leader.'  He was so darned calm and confident and in charge.  Well, I headed home.  In just ten minutes, there he was knocking on the door carrying the biggest, most expensive, fanciest tool box I ever seen.  That thing was huge with a 148 piece socket wrench set and stainless steel channel locks and the whole nine yards.  With that firm set to his jaw and that confident swagger to his walk as he hauled his tools in, it looked like old Beerman really knew what he was doing and he'd have that sink fixed in a jiffy.  In a minute, he down under the sink hard at work.  He barked out orders to me to hand him this wrench and that screwdriver all the while flat on his back jiggering around under the kitchen sink messing with that U-joint or grease trap or whatever you call it.  He was banging away and making a big racket like you wouldn't believe laughing and whistling while he worked.  After half an hour, he got up and wiped the grease off his hands and with  a big grin on his face he said, 'It's time for one of them beers, Boner!  This baby's as good as new!'  Well, we each grabbed a beer and then he turned on the tap in the sink.  Next thing you know there's water shooting out all over the place, squirting so hard it hit the ceiling and then pooling in puddles on the wore out linoleum floor.  Well, that got Beerman's dander up.  In a flash, he was back down under the sink banging and hammering away like crazy.  I peeked under there, and he was covered with grease and water and he had the pipes pulled out from the wall and channel locks holding them in place.  He even had a blow torch going down there doing some kind of welding.  Well, I just sat there drinking my beer thinking it couldn't get no worse what with the water starting to rise.  Then all of a sudden the water stopped pouring out and started to go down the drain.  Well, Beerman - I mean Mr. President - crawled out from under the sink soaking wet but with a great big ole smile in his face.  He said, 'Get me another one of them beers, Boner.  We got her fixed this time.'  Then he saluted the sink and said, 'Mission accomplished!'

    "To celebrate we popped a couple a more beers and I grabbed a mop to start cleaning up.  Then with a wink and a confident grin he turned the tap in the sink on again, proud as could be.  The water went on normal at first but then all of a sudden there was this big bang and a pipe shot out from under the sink and knocked a hole in the wall.  Nearly took my knee off, too.  Then all hell broke loose.  Water - dirty water - started pouring out of the sink, pumping away like a fire hydrant.  Somehow he must have gotten into the sewerage lines from the apartment upstairs.  There was a family of twenty-six immigrants living up there in a tiny little apartment, and next thing you know there's piss and turds - pardon my French - I mean raw sewerage all over the place.  Poor Beerman, he was so pumped up to do his little plumbing job and so proud of hisself, but then when it all blew up I could tell it really hurt his feelings.  But there was no quit in him, and he didn't sit there looking sad for long.  Quick as a bunny he was back under there hard at work, this time with a drill and a little saw.

    "After that it all gets a little blurry to me.  As I recall, the fire when it first got started was nothing much.  Just the curtains over the sink, probably because of faulty wiring.  It might not have even been Beerman's fault.  Then it just spiraled out of control.  By the time the firemen were done they had to knock out a couple of walls and the sewerage department guys said that lines had exploded all over half the neighborhood.  They said something about how some bonehead had welded some of the gas and sewerage lines together.  Well, after the stove exploded I kind of lost track.  I do remember that while they were evacuating the block of apartments I ran back through the rubble to the fridge to get the beers.  It was then that I realized not only that Beerman - I mean George W. Bush -  was gone but he had taken all the beer, too.  He seemed like a nice enough guy, all cheerful and upbeat and the like, but he wasn't much of a plumber.  But I know in my heart that he really, really did want to do a good job.  Hell, I'd vote for him."