Being an excerpt from my new book that certain readers might want to skip Part Four
NOTE: While everyone is, of course, free to read, these particular excerpts are, essentially, footnotes provided for readers of my books and are there to make sense of what they are reading AS THEY READ. So, they may not make as much sense to those who are not reading at the time...
Speaking of golf and institutions, Robin hated Bob Hope. Mac, the ex-Marine, loved him. One of the few joys he and I were able to share, like baseball. But Robin? Something slightly painful between us at moments, like on movie night. This intense dislike she inherited from her father, her mother as well, as far as I knew, never having met her mother. She never had to talk about it at length, I could gather the impressions. Her eyes, mostly. I understood it as plain as a piece of pound cake. Something completely political. The way she and Willard saw politics in black and white. Like a cookie. In terms of what they saw about this question of hypocrisy on an emotional level, too.
I suppose I had my difficulties with Hope when I was younger, but those didn’t last long. I can’t claim that I personally had the courage, if that’s the right word, to climb up the ladder of success, if that’s what it was, people like Hope scaled. I seriously doubt I’m the better person. I look at what he did and what I’ve done. Of course he a hypocrite? But certain hypocrisies are necessary, some lies have to be told. You accomplish nothing without them. In order to keep faith with certain people you have to be able to suck it up, smile that gruesome smile, rather than showing your true feelings. Willard and Robin didn’t agree. A lot of people don’t. You know what? They were both liars. Myself, I don’t like people based on the people they associate with. That’s my flaw. One of them. My wife was a social liar. Her flaw. She did not have many. Guess how many social liars there are? You’ll lose count quickly.
I can’t do it most of the time, myself. I try to laugh things off. My true feelings come out, sometimes they cripple me, and I just can’t deal with situations. Mrs. Mannes told me never to play poker. That was the second grade. It’s been obvious at least that long. That’s why people like Hope are heroes in many ways, icons, role models, because of their natural hypocrisy. Their gift for fooling us.
Forget about whatever we might be thinking about politics, they might be fooling us there, too, for our own good. Maybe not. What does it matter? Politics come and go, they change on a whim for most people. Real politics for most people has to do with their stomachs, the roof over their heads, the future of their kids. You think of it in terms of anything else, the way I used to, the way Willard and Robin did, you’re an elitist idiot. I could never successfully argue this point with Robin, she stood her ground. I loved her for standing her ground. That was not a flaw, just a disagreement. But you know me, I’m stubborn, too.
When I was a kid, learning to love Hope because he was the creative ideal for Bugs Bunny, among other things, I was learning to hate Plato because I thought Plato was a capitol F Fascist, down as he was on democracy. But, over time, as I read Plato more closely, and came to understand that he merely better understood the outcome of things, the true nature of things, and saw that all of life was temporary, and that, from his perspective, completely built in to democracy was its own doom, I understood that Plato wasn’t a Fascist but, from his perspective, a realist. Was Hope a part-time philanderer, a liar about his wealth, a shameless marketer? Everything is temporary, and everything is flawed.
Too many people don’t go into battle. They don’t know what warfare is like. They have no concept. You cannot figure it out reading a book, watching a movie. You have to be there. Think of all those men and women who, for a few minutes on the battle lines, had their lives lifted up from the war because Bob Hope put his life on the line to be there, day after day, year after year, unafraid, willing to serve, voluntarily, to make people laugh in person, on the front lines. As the man said himself, he could not look in the mirror if he didn’t do it. Not because he liked war, because he loved people, and especially those men and women who served. That’s precisely what they felt, too. They don’t like the war, but they love the men and women they serve with, especially the ones right next to them in battle. They don’t fight for country, or for you and me. Probably not even for family back home. They fight for the person sitting next to them being shot at. Even the fraction who, imperfectly, flawed, sometimes do the wrong thing. And that’s the only way to do it, the only way to survive, physically, and emotionally, if at all. If you aren’t there, if you’ve never been through it, you don’t understand it. Not at the gut level. You can’t.
I’ve lived a long time now. I look myself in the mirror, most days more than once. I don’t know how you do these balancing acts, no, I still don’t. Everyone has good and bad in them. How does it work?
Take a look at Anthony Wiener. There’s an extreme case. He is our country’s, our century’s Alcibiades. Maybe. Couldn’t keep his cock off the phone. Maybe even worse than that. But he devoted his life to serving the best interests of poor people, every living day. How do you deal with that balancing act? I don’t know the answer for people like that or myself. I don’t know if there can be an answer, do you?
What do we do with the Michael Jacksons who deliver to us high art containing high moral concept, then deposit their flaming demons on our doorsteps at night, leaving victims to ring our doorbells and run? Who do so much good in the floodlights then turn in fear when their shadow lives are exposed?
Don’t judge? Don’t judge. Take the best that people offer and deal with the worst. I guess.
I admire lots of people and some I wouldn’t name because they do things that are less than admirable. Some people think other people lack integrity. Life is what life is. You can add integrity to that list of items that come with a sliding scale. Some have more of it. Some less, others have just enough for the time and place, just enough to do their jobs just right. Or just enough to satisfy their own self-satisfied tastes.
I had enough integrity to be satisfied that I didn’t get drafted and didn’t have to love the poor bastard next to me getting blown to bits in a rice paddy, making me want to run away and have bad dreams for the remainder of my miserable life. How’s that for standards of taste? I’ve had to live with that for a few decades. What’s your excuse for that phony smile on your face, Joe American? About 99% of you, I mean. Us. No, Bob Hope is just fine with me. And I like his jokes. I love ‘em. Hate the war. Love the man.
There’d be no Bugs Bunny without him. I can’t even imagine living in a world like that. What would be the point?
Speaking of golf and institutions, Robin hated Bob Hope. Mac, the ex-Marine, loved him. One of the few joys he and I were able to share, like baseball. But Robin? Something slightly painful between us at moments, like on movie night. This intense dislike she inherited from her father, her mother as well, as far as I knew, never having met her mother. She never had to talk about it at length, I could gather the impressions. Her eyes, mostly. I understood it as plain as a piece of pound cake. Something completely political. The way she and Willard saw politics in black and white. Like a cookie. In terms of what they saw about this question of hypocrisy on an emotional level, too.
I suppose I had my difficulties with Hope when I was younger, but those didn’t last long. I can’t claim that I personally had the courage, if that’s the right word, to climb up the ladder of success, if that’s what it was, people like Hope scaled. I seriously doubt I’m the better person. I look at what he did and what I’ve done. Of course he a hypocrite? But certain hypocrisies are necessary, some lies have to be told. You accomplish nothing without them. In order to keep faith with certain people you have to be able to suck it up, smile that gruesome smile, rather than showing your true feelings. Willard and Robin didn’t agree. A lot of people don’t. You know what? They were both liars. Myself, I don’t like people based on the people they associate with. That’s my flaw. One of them. My wife was a social liar. Her flaw. She did not have many. Guess how many social liars there are? You’ll lose count quickly.
I can’t do it most of the time, myself. I try to laugh things off. My true feelings come out, sometimes they cripple me, and I just can’t deal with situations. Mrs. Mannes told me never to play poker. That was the second grade. It’s been obvious at least that long. That’s why people like Hope are heroes in many ways, icons, role models, because of their natural hypocrisy. Their gift for fooling us.
Forget about whatever we might be thinking about politics, they might be fooling us there, too, for our own good. Maybe not. What does it matter? Politics come and go, they change on a whim for most people. Real politics for most people has to do with their stomachs, the roof over their heads, the future of their kids. You think of it in terms of anything else, the way I used to, the way Willard and Robin did, you’re an elitist idiot. I could never successfully argue this point with Robin, she stood her ground. I loved her for standing her ground. That was not a flaw, just a disagreement. But you know me, I’m stubborn, too.
When I was a kid, learning to love Hope because he was the creative ideal for Bugs Bunny, among other things, I was learning to hate Plato because I thought Plato was a capitol F Fascist, down as he was on democracy. But, over time, as I read Plato more closely, and came to understand that he merely better understood the outcome of things, the true nature of things, and saw that all of life was temporary, and that, from his perspective, completely built in to democracy was its own doom, I understood that Plato wasn’t a Fascist but, from his perspective, a realist. Was Hope a part-time philanderer, a liar about his wealth, a shameless marketer? Everything is temporary, and everything is flawed.
Too many people don’t go into battle. They don’t know what warfare is like. They have no concept. You cannot figure it out reading a book, watching a movie. You have to be there. Think of all those men and women who, for a few minutes on the battle lines, had their lives lifted up from the war because Bob Hope put his life on the line to be there, day after day, year after year, unafraid, willing to serve, voluntarily, to make people laugh in person, on the front lines. As the man said himself, he could not look in the mirror if he didn’t do it. Not because he liked war, because he loved people, and especially those men and women who served. That’s precisely what they felt, too. They don’t like the war, but they love the men and women they serve with, especially the ones right next to them in battle. They don’t fight for country, or for you and me. Probably not even for family back home. They fight for the person sitting next to them being shot at. Even the fraction who, imperfectly, flawed, sometimes do the wrong thing. And that’s the only way to do it, the only way to survive, physically, and emotionally, if at all. If you aren’t there, if you’ve never been through it, you don’t understand it. Not at the gut level. You can’t.
I’ve lived a long time now. I look myself in the mirror, most days more than once. I don’t know how you do these balancing acts, no, I still don’t. Everyone has good and bad in them. How does it work?
Take a look at Anthony Wiener. There’s an extreme case. He is our country’s, our century’s Alcibiades. Maybe. Couldn’t keep his cock off the phone. Maybe even worse than that. But he devoted his life to serving the best interests of poor people, every living day. How do you deal with that balancing act? I don’t know the answer for people like that or myself. I don’t know if there can be an answer, do you?
What do we do with the Michael Jacksons who deliver to us high art containing high moral concept, then deposit their flaming demons on our doorsteps at night, leaving victims to ring our doorbells and run? Who do so much good in the floodlights then turn in fear when their shadow lives are exposed?
Don’t judge? Don’t judge. Take the best that people offer and deal with the worst. I guess.
I admire lots of people and some I wouldn’t name because they do things that are less than admirable. Some people think other people lack integrity. Life is what life is. You can add integrity to that list of items that come with a sliding scale. Some have more of it. Some less, others have just enough for the time and place, just enough to do their jobs just right. Or just enough to satisfy their own self-satisfied tastes.
I had enough integrity to be satisfied that I didn’t get drafted and didn’t have to love the poor bastard next to me getting blown to bits in a rice paddy, making me want to run away and have bad dreams for the remainder of my miserable life. How’s that for standards of taste? I’ve had to live with that for a few decades. What’s your excuse for that phony smile on your face, Joe American? About 99% of you, I mean. Us. No, Bob Hope is just fine with me. And I like his jokes. I love ‘em. Hate the war. Love the man.
There’d be no Bugs Bunny without him. I can’t even imagine living in a world like that. What would be the point?
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