W's Frat-Boy Nicknaming

W loves to tag friend and foe alike with nicknames: "Kenny Boy" Lay, Maureen "The Cobra" Dowd, Diane "Frazier" Feinstein, Barbara "Ali" Boxer (the two Senators from California are defined by Senator Boxer's surname in the mind[?] of W), and Dick "Angie" (for angioplasty) Cheney. W called his first White House Press Secretary—Ari Fleischer—the "Bald Jew." This stuff, as Kate Clinton demonstrates, is sooooooooo funny. W—the born-again Christian—thought his microphone was off in the 2000 campaign when he leaned over to his running mate Dick Cheney and pointed out Adam Clymer from the New York Times, referring to him as a "major league asshole." Cheney replied "yes he is." Isn't W cute? The man who brought dignity and truth back to the White House ought to be nicknamed the "Village Idiot." Give 'em hell, Kate! If this is (fair & balanced) idiocy, so be it.

[x The Progressive]
Unplugged Kate Clinton
The Dubbing W.

My Bush-induced Tourette's syndrome continues. While he gave himself goosebumps reading his rocks-in-the-stream, feather-in-the-wind, angels-in-the-whirlwind Inaugural speech, I was like that little, braided-hair Von Trapp Family girl after Julie Andrews lays out the do-re-mi. I shrieked, "But tit doesn't mean anything!"

I was at a friend's house at the time, veins popping in my reddened neck, when her three-year-old daughter and budding anger-management counselor tugged at my sleeve and quietly said, "Please use your inside voice."

The violent fantasies have abated, though. I was in danger of becoming as rabid as any Clinton-hater after several pardons and some light vandalism. You stole the Ws off our computers. You stole the election. Nyah, nyah.

There I was, whining about feeling disenfranchised, powerless, bushwhacked, and bewildered to a friend who is African American, and she gave me a "how do you like it?" look that had the effect of a hysteria-stopping, cold-water slap in the face. I have ramped down a notch.

But unlike some, I still find W.'s charm offensive offensive.

The penchant for nicknaming and thus disarming the suckups we call the press has been widely and warmly reported. Marc Lacey, of The New York "Hey Gray Lady!" Times, lovingly reported that in a big-time display of Texas-style levity and folksiness at a meeting of lawmakers in Austin before the coronation, W. called "a rather bulky Democrat from California" (Representative George Miller) "Big George."

The guy is brilliant! Unlike so much else in this beyond-teflon saga, the name stuck. And from now on, you better be fixin' to call Fred Upton, a Michigan Republican, "Freddy Boy" because that's what W. dubbed him.

No one seems to get that these nicknames prove our "President" is, indeed, a sophomoric, glad-handing frat boy.

Or that his behavior is akin to a pathetic plea for approval from the lowly office guy who replaces toner and feels compelled to add "meister" to surnames.

I mean no offense to sophomores or office workers. I do mean insult to frat boys.

J. C. Watts, Republican of Oklahoma, is reported to have welcomed the whimsical namecalling as a break from the lemon-sucking seriousness of governance.

OK, Okie Man, Token Man, suck on these:

Joe Biden--Plug Man

Spencer Abraham--Loser Man

Gale Norton--Watt's Up?

John Ashcroft--Integrity Man

Donald Rumsfeld--Missile Man

Jim Baker--Bull Connor without the Stetson

Alan Gimme Some Greens Man

Ari Fleischer--Arrogant Condescending Infuriating Snippy Spokes Man

Rod Paige--Voucher Man

George W.--The Edumacation President!

Extra for when and if W. ever goes to the Mideast--Ariel Butcher Boy Sharon.

Hey, this is fun! I'm charmed. Maybe the next four years won't be so bad.

Especially now that I've formed "The Kate Clinton Full Gospel Choir and Liberation Army." We've got religion, and now we want our federal funds. Bow your heads and join me in prayer:

"Our father who art in Kennebunkport, please watch over the health of Dick Cheney, our old, rugged boss.

"Our Lady of the Teleprompter, we know that when you move us to say 'faith-based' you mean 'you're on your own now, sucker.'

"Thou who hast worked supreme miracles in the past as recently as December, and who know that the grievous sound we hear is the wall between church and state come tumbling down, vouchsafe unto us enough vouchers to pay this month's gas bill until we, too, are delivered from this hell of bipartisanshit and are born again into that heavenly estate that will soon be untaxed."

Can I get an Amen?

Kate "Don't Call Will Durst for a Lifeline, Call Me" Clinton is a humorist. This column is supported by a grant from the Purple Moon Foundation.

Copyright © 2002 The Progressive