Bush is Right
By PAUL KRUGMAN
Published: March 29, 2005
Fred R. Conrad/The New York Times
eorge Bush is
right. He's right about Social Security, he's right about taxes, and I'm beginning to believe
he's right about Iraq.
How did I come to this conclusion? Simple. I pulled my head out of my ass.
Well actually, it wasn't quite so simple as all that. My head had been up there
so long that my sphincter muscles had calcified around my neck, necessitating the
use of a jackhammer, two cranes and a derrick.
I'm speaking figuratively, of course. All it really took was some hard work and serious
soul-searching with a skilled therapist. The person I'm working with is
really great. She's helped me understand a lot about the true source of my animus
towards George W. Bush. I've had to come to terms with the fact that it's my own
baggage that's been coloring the tenor of my anti-Bush columns more than anything
else. She explained how my desperate attempts to act like a "big man" in these
pages were trying to compensate for an unhappy youth and my pathetic, microscopically
sized penis. Oh God, I am lame.
See, in college I never had many girls. I had few friends. I was no good at sports.
I couldn't even drink a beer without hurling (even a Lite beer! Oh God!) I spent
most of my time by myself in my dorm room, floggin' the dolphin (okay, perhaps
it was more like a Sea Monkey, but whatever.)
There were lots of people on campus in those days who reminded me very
much of our current president.
Sweet Jesus, how I hated guys like him in college.
Everything was handed to them, and they did nothing. I worked my ass off, yet I
had nothing. They were rich, handsome, popular and athletic. They porked
a different sorority slut every night while I sat home and choked the chicken
(okay, it was more like a Cornish hen, but whatever.) Sure, they were mouth-breathing
morons, but no one cared. The sole advantage I had over these assholes (my keen
intellect) went totally unvalued.
Nothing helped. I even tried the Charles Atlas course, and let
me tell you, that was a goddamn ripoff. When I went back to the
beach I still got sand kicked in my face, and by girls
even! My therapist has told me that this is why I now strut around
the Op-Ed pages of the New York Times trying to convince everyone
what a "big he-man" I am. But I'm getting ahead of the narrative.
I majored in economics because I thought it would help me learn how
to get some scratch. I figured if I had serious bank, those cool people
might like me, and girls might want to sleep with me.
Sadly, I learned that this so-called "economics" was nothing more than
a bunch of boring graphs and numbers and lame shit like that. Christ,
was I ever going to get laid? Anyway, I stayed the course.
So I got my degree, became a professor, got this gig at the Times,
and even scored some consulting gigs at Enron, and all was well. Then
along comes this Bush asshole. Just like that, and all the pain and
pent-up rage from my college days were back in full force. I shit-canned
an entire career of academic achievement and intellectual honesty all
in the name of exacting a measure of "revenge" against someone who
never wronged me personally.
I know an academic reputation can be hard to rebuild after having been
so utterly brought to ruin. But I'm willing to do it, one step at a time.
And I'd like to start with an apology. I'm sorry, Mr. President. You
were right; I was wrong. It's me, not you. Now let's go from here. And hopefully a more meaningful and fruitful
dialog can ensue.
(By the way, does anyone know anything about hookers? They have
to have sex with you, right?)