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Ask Aunt Sophie By: Judith Weizner
FrontPageMagazine.com | Thursday, August 19, 2004

Dear Aunt Sophie,

I don’t want anyone’s advice and I don’t care what you think, but I do want everyone to know what is on my mind. I am a real woman with real ideas and I am not afraid to express them.


I recently told a reporter to “shove it.” So what? That man was annoying me. It isn’t as if I had said the F word like that former Halliburton executive who happens to be the vice president right now. That would have been uncivil.


Another thing - why can’t people learn to pronounce my name? It’s not Terrayyyza. It’s closer to Teraissa: a slight difference, but anyone with a modicum of background ought to be able to hear it. Americans are not attuned to other languages and in general they are quite uncultured.


You can see it in the way they eat. Recently we went into a place called Wendy’s to show that we are just plain folks. This boy who is my husband’s new partner supposedly has a tradition of eating there with his wife. Something to do with their courtship. It was one of those idiotic campaign gimmicks, but it gave me great insight into the American culture. You have to order from pictures. Pictures! Do they think we can’t read? I can read menus in seventeen languages. But pictures? I didn’t know what any of those things were. That must be why no one eats there. I hate pretending. We are not ordinary people, and I do not like pretending that we are. We caught a bite at the yacht club later.


My husband is a pretty good sport, but just between you and me, I would give up all my money if I could have my first husband back. This one does have some good points, though. He is urbane and he does speak French. And he is tall. He wasn’t rich when I met him, but that doesn’t matter when you have as much money as I have.


People criticize him for being inconsistent, but wasn’t it Emerson who said consistency is the hobgoblin of small minds? So what if my husband changes his position every so often. If there is one thing I can’t stand, it’s an opinionated man.


I admire larger-than-life men. You probably don’t know this, but my husband is a war hero. I cannot understand what prompts some of his former military acquaintances to disparage the four long months he spent in Vietnam filming reenactments of himself performing heroic acts. Other people have photograph albums, don’t they?


Be fair to my husband. He wants to be President, you know, and I like to give him what he wants.


Mama T


Dear Mama T,


Since you don’t care what I think, you won’t be too surprised to learn that I don’t care what you think either, no matter what kind of catharsis your relentless self-expression affords you.


Some women look for a man who can provide well and others look for one who can consume well. To each her own. What’s laudable is that you’re prepared to stick up for your boy toy. Like reminding us that Mr. Studley is a good sport. I wonder, though, if that secret service man he abused after falling off the snowboard would agree.


Just for the record, the man to whom the Vice President spoke the sixth-letter-of-the-alphabet had been annoying him, too, but at least the Veep didn’t befoul himself on the record in a Rolling Stone interview addressed to young people, the way your gallant did.


I guess I see what you mean when you say you can’t stand an opinionated man, but what’s it like to be married to the Guinness record holder for antipodal attitudes – a simultaneous war hero/war criminal who gave aid and comfort to the enemy out of deeply patriotic motives; who tossed his medals in protest of the war in which he earned them, but who didn’t really toss them (and possibly didn’t really earn them); who later voted for another war but then voted against the wherewithal to pay for it, but who now says he would have gone to war exactly as the current president has done, sort of; a man who seeks and acquires a Senate seat, presumably because he wants to be a Senator, but hardly ever shows up to vote; who thinks human life begins at conception but that a conceived human lacks personhood; a man who cares passionately about the environment but does his hedgehopping in a private jet; a champion of the American worker who deplores outsourcing but tools around in assorted foreign gas guzzlers which he says he does not own but which are owned by his family? Do you even know who he is?


The only reason Lamb Chop has been dragging you into places like Wendy’s is that the pregnant chad crowd thinks he’s the Un-Bush. Let’s hope this hellish stage of your life ends soon, like on November 2, so you can return to your favorite table Chez Jacques. If Mr. Ordinary Guy wins this election the country will be counting on you to see to it that he attends his intelligence briefings between Ultimate Chicken Grill Combos.


Good luck and God bless.


PS - If he tells you he wants to spend Christmas with you in Cambodia, get it in writing. He has a nasty history of fudging on that.

Judith Weizner is a columnist for Frontpagemag.com.

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