I think it's time that we removed beer from certain parts of the political culture. Not literally, god knows. There are a number of people involved in the political culture whom no thinking person would ever want to encounter entirely sober. But perhaps it's time to stop using beer as a rhetorical beverage. Perhaps it's time to stop measuring candidates by the Imperial pint.
Way back when this election made some kind of sense, there were a number of polls in which people were asked with which of the candidates they would most like to drink a beer. This, of course, was a standard measure of Regular Guyhood, even though it is my contention -- based on extensive first-hand research -- that having a beer ceased to be a reliable indicator of Regular Guyhood the first time an American male used the phrases "microbrew," "pale ale," or "Samuel Adams." In many parts of this country, beer-drinking differs now from wine snobbery only by the lack of a corkscrew.
(For the record, I spent five years of my life in Milwaukee, and while on the banks of the shining Menomonee I did my level best to support a number of local firms -- by which I don't mean that I bought a couple of Briggs and Stratton lawnmowers every weekend.)
However, as a measure of a candidate's Regular Guyhood, the political wise guys seem to be caught back in the glorious days when the merits of a good brew were measured by how well it tasted in a wax cup at the ballpark. Imagine, for example, the tin-pot populist opprobrium that would fall on any candidate who walked into a pub and ordered, say, a "pint of bitters." Why, Tim Russert's dad would fall out of his Barcalounger at the very thought of it.
By any measure, George W. Bush won all those surveys, which is a little strange if you think about it. I mean, hundreds of Americans opine in unison that they'd like to have a beer with a guy who claims to have been sober for 13 years? Isn't there something a little sadistic in that?
"Mmmm, that's a nice cold one. You want a sip, Mr. President?"
Really, now, if that isn't meaner than Dick Cheney when the check's late, I don't know what is.
I know, I know. The beer's a metaphor. It stands for blue jeans and brush-clearing, NASCAR and barbecue, and all that other He-Manly stuff that goes on down in Crawford. (Please, God: Let there be a leather bar just a short piece down the road!) Well, in this little corner of the world, we don't have any patience with metaphorical beers. Metaphorical beers leave you thirsty, even though there are far fewer glasses to wash. Metaphorical beers are what you end up with when the guy who's supposed to buy the round excuses himself to the gents' and then slips out the backdoor.
Which leaves us with the real thing: Who in God's name would want to have an actual beer with George W. Bush?
First of all, he'd be the guy who starts throwing peanuts at the young ladies at the next table. And then, when confronted by, say, the defensive tackle who is engaged to one of them, tells them that you did it. Then he sends a gag gift to you in the hospital.
He's the guy who makes up (at top volume) the stupid nicknames for everybody else at the table and then, in the cold light of an angry dawn, you discover that yours is the only one that stuck.
He's the guy who never drives. Or chips in for gas. He might be the guy who booted in the back seat, but he'll never admit it without DNA evidence.
He's the guy who you find on your couch in the morning, using your mint copy of Blonde On Blonde as a coaster and the afghan your grandmother smuggled out from under the Cossacks as a bib.
He's the guy who eats all the popcorn.
At some point in our lives, we've all had a beer with George W. Bush. We laugh about it now but, let's be honest, we lost his phone number years ago. He's "That Guy." As in, "Whatever happened to That Guy who got the ribs dumped on his head by the football player?"
"I think he still owes me twenty bucks."
Charles P. Pierce is a staff writer for The Boston Globe Magazine and a contributing writer for Esquire. He also appears regularly on National Public Radio.
