Governor
Bush has decided the voters deserve answers about his "lost
years" (1968-74). To that end, campaign HQ is publishing, in
a serialized format, a supplement to W's autobiography.
Episode
1
We
were somewhere in New Haven
around the edge of campus when the drugs began to take hold. I
remember saying something like "I feel a bit lightheaded;
maybe we should head back to the dorms." Then suddenly, a
Volkswagen van, painted rainbow colors, howled by us with beautiful
hippy chicks hanging out the windows yelling, "Viva la Revolution!"
It was the spring of 1968, we had just finished Yale, and I turned
to my buddy and said, "Somehow this doesn't seem like the
time to join the secret ruling-class conspiracy."
He
grinned, seeming to understand. "George," he said, "drugs
are cheap...sex is free...this is the beginning of a whole new era
in human civilization. The next ten years are going to be one amazing
party...don't
miss this!"
He
wanted me to come on some road trip with him to LA or Vegas or something.
I told him I was down with the party of the century, but that I
needed to be properly situated first. "My trust fund is different
from yours...mine has certain strings attached."
"Strings???"
he asked incredulously, as though I was talking nuclear physics
or something. And by this time he was looking a bit lightheaded
himself.
"Look
man, my Dad's running for Senate right now, and my grandfather was
a famous senator, and his father was a powerful admiral, and it
goes on like that all the way back to the pilgrims, you know? All
eyes are on us, and now there's a war on.... Aw, just
forget it, it's a ruling class thing--you wouldn't understand,"
I said, giving up.
"Oh
yes, the
WAR!"
he said, as if I was talking about a long-forgotten missed appointment,
"But what's that
got
to do with us?"
I pressed
on, "My Dad's running for office...so if I sit the thing out
people will cry foul. The bottom line is, if I don't compromise
on this, I'll be cut off."
"Well
what the hell are you going to do? You're not going anywhere
near that
meat grinder are you?...ARE
YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?"
He started jumping around getting very excited. The uppers were
definitely getting the upper hand. I considered breaking out the
reds to balance things out a bit, but then I just tried reasoning
with him.
"No
man, listen: I'm going to fly jets in Texas."
"Huh?"
He was intrigued enough by that to stand still and listen for a
second.
"I'm
going to fly jets man!...freaking SUPERSONIC
jets!...in
the desert!"
"Holy
shit! That's beautiful...did you say jets?
Are you really talking about jets,
though?" He was so moved by what I was saying that he was grabbing
me by the neck and shaking me as he asked for confirmation that
what he heard was not a drug-induced hallucination.
"And
I only have to show up on weekends...It'll keep Dad off my back
while I spend the rest of the time partying and chasing women, and
best of all I get to fly jets!"
"Holy
shit! Authenticity AND time to party! That's quite a setup Mr. Bush!
Jets! That's pretty damn amazing. I gotta admire you for that. Wow,
I wonder what a mescaline rush is like when your breaking the sound
barrier..."
"We'll
soon see, my friend! We'll soon see!"
Tune
in tomorrow when W
gets his graduation check for $17,000, a car--and some other supplies--and
goes on a mission to sign up for the Guard.
Please
email suggestions--or full episodes--to lostyears@gwbush.com.
If I use your episode, you get a by-line. If I get a bunch, I'll
start posting good ones on a separate page. It would be fun to have
a few different plot lines unfolding at the same time.
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