One Bucket Warming, Rep. Ryan: Passing The Hunh? Test

Any casual reader of this little nook on the internet knows that I would much rather be writing whimsical (at my best) gibberish (at my most) than getting all political, but residing (and suffering) as I do in the very county where supposedly more presidential election advertising dollars are being spent than any other place in America, I have the right to be a quasi pundit at least once a month for the next three. Besides, if the vice presidency of the United States doesn't call for a little whimsical gibberish, what does? As one whose relationship with the "mainstream media" (has "stream" ever been used more aptly?) is akin to a rubbernecker on the freeway, I say unequivocally that very little piques my gawking attention more than the quadrennial fuss over a presidential candidate's "choice of a running mate." I mean, just the thrill of hearing and reading the use of the verb "vet" so many times in two or three days is like Christmas in August. Woe to him or her not thoroughly vetted--poor Thomas Eagleton is waiting with your hair shirt.

And so it has been with glee over the past 48 hours that I have read and listened to all the early returns on Mitt Romney's "tabbing" of Paul Ryan to "join his team." Ah, sly Mitt, though, announcing his choice on a Saturday morning, which has forced the second-line wags to weigh in first, thus allowing the main-line nabobs (hence my two cents here, Monday, rather than then, Saturday) to digest the immediate reaction before thundering forward with the duly considered truth. Everybody's got an angle, everybody's got a theory, not only about why Ryan but about what Ryan means and will mean. Hogwash, I say. Or, more to the point, Sacrifice Bunt. I don't know who said it first, but it's true and it applies here: the sacrifice bunt is the only play in baseball that, when successful, both sides cheer. Which translates into, big deal, let's wait some more and see whose Big Deal it really is--can Romney drive in the run from second, or will Obama pitch his way out of a jam? Who knows? I've read conservatives love the pick and so do liberals, so so what?

So what because we're talking vice president here, maybe the most powerful so what on the planet, but still, at its most fundamental, so what. To me, and I bet most people not getting paid to ruminate, pontificate, and fulminate, the choice of a vice presidential running mate begins and ends with the Hunh? Test. Hunh? in all its wonderful various intonations and connotations (and no doubt, for some, Sarah Palin expanded the range of possible intonations of Hunh? to include breathier ones--Uh Hunh, you can be my Commander-in-Chief any day!). The first part of the two-part Hunh? Test is the immediate Who He/She? part. If that part takes more than a nano-second or two, prepare your concession speech, Mr. Nominee. The second part of the Hunh? Test is more visceral and sadder (and oxymoronic)--can I see this person as my President in the event of an unforeseen tragedy (cue dire music for the "a mere heartbeat away" line)? Now I know that's a loaded question in this time of severe partisanship where the thought of four more years of Obama or at least four years of Romney sends either one half of the country or the other running to the borders screaming Armageddon and the Death of the Constitution, but really, it can be tolerated. President Dole? President Bentsen? President Kemp? President Biden? I will survive. I'll get back to you on President Quayle, President Edwards, and President Palin. But President Ryan? Well, I've never been a Tom Clancy fan, but yes, President Ryan, I can breathe. My first, and thus far only, real reaction to Ryan is that his voice sounds a little too male-cheerleader nagging for me, but really, for the sake of the Union, I can get over that.

So, congratulations Mr. Ryan, you've passed the Hunh? Test. Now what? Well, as history shows, not much, besides a whirlwind, hoarse-inducing (what will that nagging voice sound like come November 6?) few months. On November 7 you'll either become (but for that errant heartbeat, or lack thereof) the most irrelevant person in the country next to Patrick Duffy's (yes, I checked, he's still alive) pr guy, or you'll be the instant frontrunner for the Republican nomination in 2016. Because, really, all this nattering nonsense of the last few days and a few more to come notwithstanding, who really cares? Show me eight people, beyond immediate family and friends, who have actually cast (and let's take a moment to hail that great verb--like casting a lonely, worm-wriggling fishing line, in hopes that it might bring in some daily sustenance) their presidential vote based on the vice president, and I'll show you eight people who couldn't spell the term Electrical Collage, let alone define it. Name me one influential vice president in history (okay, fine conspiracy fans, the Johnsons, maybe) other than Darth Dick Cheney (or Duck as his hunting buddies call him). I'll be waiting for your answer until Sasha and Malia are answering to the call of "Grandma!" And please, spare me the usual talk this time every four years of a "shared Presidency." If your ego is big enough to think you should be President, big enough to actually run for President, and big enough to actually be nominated for President, sharing isn't in your lexicon. The semiotics of that picture above are enough to tell you all you need to know about the reality of the kind of sharing that would take place between Romney and Ryan--you wear the jacket, I'll wear the tie. Hey buddy, start practicing that grim look that hides the thought, Who died?, for all the foreign non-major funerals you'll be attending.

Well, there was one influential vice president in history, John Nance Garner IV. Who he? Hunh? FDR's vice president from 1933-1941. He was the one who said the vice presidency was "not worth a bucket of warm piss." Which in turn made him the only vice president who said anything meaningful enough to be bowdlerized, the more familiar saying being "bucket of warm spit." I give Garner moxie points, but not poetic ones. I actually prefer the spit imagery. Less powerful, more inconsequential. Apt. I ain't going to do the math here, but it seems to me "vice presidential nominee" might be a near-exact anagram of "perceived expediency."

So, Mr. Ryan, have fun, and enjoy the ride for the next few months. Come November 7 you're either looking at four maybe eight years of frustrating boredom with mercury rising saliva all the while thinking nothing but 2020, or you'll be crowned The Next One, in which case, see Giuliani, Edwards, Palin, et al. Fun, hunh?