Tuesday, May 5, 2009

Nuclear Key Club



I always disdained pep rallies and, much to my satisfaction, a mature intellectual life confirmed and strengthened that distrust of the what Voltaire called "the savage herd," a philosophical analogy to the "broad way" of Jesus Christ. As opposed to being swayed by (and swaying with) the crowd, I much preferred a James Dean slouch under the bleachers to a bleached smile under the spotlight.

Particularly alien and offensive to my psyche, with mutual disdain, was the Key Club, possessing "the key" to what I did not know, perhaps the key to success, the key to society, the key to the future? The key" to what I did not know, but I did know they did not have the key to my Camaro (Yes, "Don't Tread on Me" has ever been my motto).

A few years ago during a wistful laugh over the Presidency of George W. Bush, it dawned upon me: "Key Club with Nuclear Power." Yes, that was it: George Bush is someone I never would have "hung around with," him under the banner "Key Club" and me under the bleachers. I could see him in the high school annual, "Vice-President of the Key Club," just beneath the Key Club president's picture, "Billy Clinton." The only difference I now perceive is not in their grins but in the placement of their hands; no, not on the sacred gavel or the mystic motto, but on the red button.

I then began superimposing this less than far-fetched fantasy upon newscasts, sound bytes, and talking-head interviews (more "talking" than "head" - O'Reilly, Hannity, et.al. former members of the Thespian Society and Debate Team who couldn't make it into the Key Club; I really don't watch them because I much prefer listening to intelligent liberals rather than superficial conservatives) . . . I began transposing that vision of the Key Club upon power-broker politicians: Teddy Kennedy, Tom Daschle, Lindsay Graham, John Cornyn, Christopher Hayes, Rick Santorum, Diane Feinstein, Jesse Jackson, Jr., John Warner: yes, that was it: Nuclear Key Club; high school superficialites destined for the ultimate Key Club: The United States Congress and, heaven help, the Presidency. I wouldn't have hung around with those guys . . .

Now if you think that I am just a whining cynic, emotionally caught in high school inferiority or adult anonymity, just try this once . . . try this the next time you watch a newscast (and want a good laugh) . . . try to imagine this: "What would this nuclear power-broker have been in high school?"

I actually experimented with this theory last night. There they were, Harry Reid and Nancy Pelosi standing side-by-side . . . consummate wimp and consummate . . . we'll, you figure it out . . .

Key Club gone nuclear . . .

I'm still slouching under the bleachers . . .


3 comments:

Hippie Fringe said...

They got a whole lot of keys on that ring!
Where ya wanna go son?
Take ya just bout any place but one.
Got the keys to the kingdom and a mind to raise some hell.
Power and beauty; know em all too well.

The Militant Pacifist said...

This is an interesting exercise. It makes me glad that remote mind reading hasn’t been perfected (i.e., except in the Divine; Psalm 139:2).

Your musing makes me really glad that high school is only a small blip in my rear view mirror.

And under the bleachers...right there with you bro...

Hal Brunson said...

MP,

The Nuclear Key Club is a bug in my headlights . . .