For instance, Bush's supporters proudly trot out his "C "average at Yale
as though it demonstrates his "everyman" credentials. If you're looking for someone with a record of true academic failure, take a look at the
transcripts from my junior year as a music major at Ithaca College:
Music History, F.
Music Theory, F.
Practice Teaching, F.
Orchestra, D.
(Okay, nobody's perfect. I got that single passing grade because I
actually showed up for a rehearsal one afternoon. I needed to borrow five
dollars from one of the trombone players.)
Neither can George W. Bush match my questionable record of military service. Whereas the president is unable to provide witnesses who can vouch for his presence with an Alabama National Guard unit for a mere few months, I can't come up with anyone who remembers my being stationed at the Norfolk, Virginia Naval Amphibious Base for a period of three years in the late 70s. My attendance at the Pleasure House Road Casino, however, was consistent, as any former patrons of that fine establishment who have not yet succumbed to delirium tremens will swear on a stack of Old Mr. Boston cocktail napkins, if you buy them free drinks and prompt them with leading questions about the guy in the broken black plastic glasses who used to take off his pants and use them for a pillow when he slept under the pinball machine.
In the vital area of denying substance abuse, George W. Bush refuses to discuss his alleged cocaine use. What a wimp! I refuse to discuss my alleged use of marijuana, hashish, speed, LSD and mescaline. And hard evidence of these accusations will never surface, since Stargaze Crowfoot, the itinerant mendicant of extra-legal pharmaceuticals who was so beloved on the East Coast in the early 70s, did not keep business records.
If you feel, as many obviously did in the last election, that experience as a drunk driver is an important presidential qualification, just step into the voting booth and check the box next to the name "Frank." Bush was arrested for driving while intoxicated "just once" after having only "two beers" because a cop noticed he was driving--I love this--"too slowly." (Quotation marks are used to indicate material that is not made up by the author, but is, rather, made up by Bush himself). I didn't drive drunk just once; I drove in a near-stupor through Ronald Reagan's entire first term with my head hanging out the window to avoid throwing up in my lap and one eye shut in order to cut down on the number of traffic lights.
Am I proud of these things? No. My behavior was selfish, dangerous and illegal. I changed my ways, and now help others wake from the nightmare of alcoholism. See? I even repent better than George Bush. I don't just tell you to mind your own business because Jesus has forgiven me. Frank Mullen repenting in bold, vivid detail is Christian humility at its best.
I also tower over George W. Bush when it comes to relying on one's father's friends to fund repeated business failures. Remember Rubik's Lube? You had to match up all the colors in three minutes, or it sprayed motor oil in your face. That was my first losing venture, but my father's buddies, Snake-eyes Hoolihan and Louie The Gimp, didn't learn their lesson and staked me to another stinker, the Pet Jock, which failed because merchandisers refused to give prominent shelf space to a gift item that was, essentially, an athletic supporter in a goldfish bowl.
Clearly, if Bush is who you like, Mullen is who you'll love.
And on the off chance that I actually win, I assure you that, within a week of my taking the oath of office, you won't be able find anyone who's ever heard of me.
Frank Mullen: George Bush squared.
Copyright 2004, Frank Mullen III. Originally published by Suite101.com. Frank Mullen III is Suite101's Baby Boomer Humor Contributing Editor.
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