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Hello Summer!
- Joined
- Nov 1, 2005
- Posts
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*Sniff*shereads said:Right down to the pancake breakfasts. What a lovely, down-to-earth feeling it evokes when a small town opens its doors and hearts to offer a tasty, home-style breakfast of pancakes with lots of good, American dairy butter and Vermont maple syrup, or maybe New Hampshire maple syrup if the organizing committee has been on its political toes, to the men and women competing to become the front man for the most powerful person in the world.
Babies are kissed. Hands are shaken. If all goes well, no one confuses the two procedures.
Best of all, the pancake breakfasts provide a forum where the future Commander in Chief (and the runners-up, and the future Miss Congeniality) can set aside political posturing, loosen his necktie, leave the Lear jet someplace miles away, and arrive on a humble bus to mingle with "the people" and hear their concerns.
The people are those hearty, no-nonsense Americans whose ancestors arrived on our shores as poor immigrants, their landlords, or hardcore religious fanatics, and set about building a nation. With the help of native Americans, who helped the pilgrims survive a harsh winter and inspired the first Thanksgiving Day, these stalwart pioneers killed or humbled the less helpful natives, fought and won the War on Witchcraft, conquered the wilderness, conducted a violent overthrow of the government, introduced multiculturalism by importing African men and women to work their vast plantations, and wrote the Bill of Rights when they realized they were in danger of doing to each other what had once been done to them. They also invented pancakes and maple syrup. But not butter; Canada invented butter.
The pancake breakfasts are America's way of reminding those Washington Politicians that they're no different from us ordinary folk. Except for their funerals, which are pretty spectacular, and their virtual immunity from criminal prosecution, and the fact that they never, except when arriving at a pancake breakfast, have to ride on a bus.
The tradition might be old-fashioned, but without it, how would we know our candidates and how would they know us? Not from polls, that's for sure! Polls are nothing but a tool of Washington Politics. For that, there are campaign strategists, analysts, and one or two actual decision makers who remain invisible. They might direct policy, but they don't make pancakes.
Only by shaking a man's baby, kissing his hand, and donning his apron for a photo op at the local YMCA, can a candidate for president hope to compete against Britney and Paris for a couple of minutes of prime time TV.
That was beautiful (waving the little red-white-and-blue flag that was stuck in my stack of delicious, buttermilk pancakes and thanking the God-fearing Boy Scout who politely served them to me).