After the photos, we sent them on their way, with instructions to be home by 11:00. The girls protested, pro forma; the boys eagerly agreed. Afterwards I reassembled my Colt and cleaned up the kitchen. Marilyn pulled out the makings for our own hamburgers and beans. “You don’t think that was a little over the top, honey? Those boys will never want to ever come back here!”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“Carl!”
“So what? Let me tell you something. I just put the fear of God into those two, and they will be telling their buddies about the crazy killer father of the two hottest cheerleaders in school. You don’t think that might be beneficial?”
“Not if your daughters never speak to you again!” she said, laughing.
“Think of the quiet.” I made us a couple of Seven and Sevens. “Think I ought to be sitting in the living room at eleven, wearing my shoulder holster?”
That got another laugh. “That, I think, really would be overkill.”
“A singularly appropriate remark, wouldn’t you say?”
Marilyn snorted at that. I didn’t wear the holster. We simply ate our dinner and then watched television in the living room until the kids came home. They arrived around ten minutes early, in perfectly fine condition. The girls brought their dates into the foyer, and I heard one of them state, “Don’t worry! Daddy’s not like that!”
If they had been hoping for a goodnight kiss, they were disappointed. The two young men saw Marilyn and me sitting there, smiling and waving at them, and they took off like they had jets up their butts! Holly and Molly shrieked in anger and stomped off to their room. “I HATE YOU!” and “YOU RUINED EVERYTHING!” came wafting down the hall.
Their mother sighed and stood up. “I’d better go talk to them.”
“They’ll get over it,” I told her.
“You’re a real meanie.”
“You should see me pulling the wings off of flies.”
Chapter 125: Vetting
The campaign unfolded just about like I thought it would. About half or more of the candidates dropped out even before the primaries started, when their exploratory committees went exploring, and discovered that the far horizon had no money on it. About half a dozen stayed in, but the only two who counted were Bush and McCain. Neither of the two choices thrilled me. I knew Bush would be a disaster, but after seeing the hash McCain made of his campaign in 2008, I wasn’t overly sanguine about him either.
Bush smacked McCain around in the Iowa Caucus, but then McCain won in the New Hampshire primary. After that pretty much everybody else dropped out of the race, although there were a few primaries they ran in because their names were already on the ballots. After South Carolina, though, things really went against McCain. Bush began running a very dirty and negative campaign, with intimations that McCain had fathered a child with a black prostitute. Karl Rove, Bush’s campaign director, swore up and down that he had nothing to do with it; nobody believed a word he said.
By Super Tuesday it was all over. On March 7, 2000 there were 13 Republican primaries, and except for a few small states in the Northeast, George Bush won big. It was the final nail in the McCain coffin. The convention was to be held in Philly at the end of July, but by the end of March the pundits and politicians were already chattering about who would be Bush’s nominee for Vice President.
Dick Cheney, a longtime Republican power player, was placed in charge of George Bush’s search for a Vice Presidential candidate by the end of April. Cheney had been in Washington forever, going back to being an intern for Dick Nixon. He had been a Wyoming Congressman for years, and had once had my job, as Republican Whip. Then he served under George’s dad (the smart Bush) as Secretary of Defense. Since then, he had been out of the public spotlight, and in Dallas running Halliburton. He was also the most disingenuous choice possible for the job of picking a Vice President. After much deliberation and soul searching he found the perfect candidate — himself! I couldn’t wait to be ‘surprised’ again at this.
Well, I actually was surprised, when at a dinner with George Will, his wife Mari, and Marilyn, George commented, “I heard the other day that you were on the list for Vice Presidential choices.”
I stared at him for a second, before replying, “I think you better check your sources on that one. If I’m on the list, it’s only because the Tooth Fairy had a conflict of interest.”
Marilyn looked at us curiously. “You’re being considered for Vice President? When did you plan to tell me?”
I arched an eyebrow and answered, “As soon as somebody considers me. I think our friend here is just trying to get a rise out of me, and see if I snap at the bait.”
“Congressman Buckman, how can you think such a thing!?” said a pious George Will. Mari simply rolled her eyes.
I pointed towards him and looked at Marilyn. “Uh, huh! See!” I turned back to him and said, “Nice try.”
“So who is on the list?” asked Marilyn.
I shrugged. “The long list or the short list? The long list is just about anybody who’s a Republican with a pulse. The short list is the serious one.”
Mari added, “By that standard, Carl actually is on the long list.”
“So, Congressman, for the record, what is your response?” asked George.
I put my most serious face on and grasped my lapels, trying to look pompous, and replied, “I fully intend to support whichever candidate is chosen, and assist them in their run for the White House.”
“So you are saying nothing.”
“You have grasped the overall concept. Who’s on your short list?” I countered.
He shrugged. “Eh, the usual suspects. The safe bet is McCain, simply because he was number two, and it shows party unity, but that won’t happen.”
“Why not?” asked Marilyn.
“Because he doesn’t need him, and they generally don’t like each other,” I said. Turning back to George, I asked, “Who else? What about Liddy Dole? It would be good for the women’s vote.”
“That’s an interesting idea.” We tossed around a few more names, and Cheney never popped up once. George finished with, “So you’re not interested?”
“In what? In playing this game? Sure, I love the game. In running for Vice President? I think the Tooth Fairy has a better chance. Hell, throw your name in the hat! You’re smarter than most of them anyway.”
“I couldn’t afford the pay cut,” he laughed.
That evening, as we drove back to the house on 30th, Marilyn asked me, “Was he serious about that?”
I laughed. “NO! He was just trying to push my buttons and get me to say something that he could then use to go after some other poor schmuck. He’s just trying to stir the pot and see what bubbles to the top.”
“Oh. Would you want to run for Vice President?”
I opened my mouth for a snappy rejoinder, but then closed it again. It was actually a fair question. I glanced over at her and said, “I don’t know. Leaving aside that the odds of this ever happening are somewhere lower than the odds of me ever seeing Heaven, I don’t know. As Majority Whip, or some other House leader, I would probably have a lot more power than the Vice President. The only reason it actually makes sense is if I wanted to run for President some day.”
“Would you?”
I was saved from answering by our arrival in our driveway. “Saved by the bell, the doorbell in this case!” We went inside without finishing our conversation. I opened a bottle of wine and we shared that while snuggling together on the couch, but all the while, I was thinking about those two questions.
Would I want to run for President? God forbid! To spend two years shaking hands in Iowa and New Hampshire, crisscrossing the country, begging for money, never seeing my wife and children for weeks upon end, while reporters and investigators climbed so far up my ass that I would see their smiling faces when I brushed my teeth? I shuddered at the very thought! If you have to have ‘fire in the belly’ to run for President, I could honestly state that I didn’t.