You have to admit, the president owns an extremely interesting pair of boots. Big and shiny, his initials, GWB, are pretentiously embossed in smug reassurance beneath the presidential seal on its side. Every step resounds on the carpeted floors of the White House. Pacing back and forth in the Oval Office, they wear out affectionate holes in the rug. Late at night, they finally find repose in the closet of the Lincoln Bedroom.
Baby Bush's boots are either very cool or very tacky, depending on where you come from. They are, in essence, the heart and "sole," not only of what was arguably one of the closest presidential elections to have ever taken place, but also of all the political battles Bush has fought thus far. While half the country is madly in love with Bush's boots, the other half feels their only use should be to kick Ashcroft out the White House door.
That the president failed miserably in garnering majority approval from the country during the elections seems to be news only to him. Unabashed and undaunted, Bush has waved and flashed his boots to all Americans in turn, smiling dumbly at the half of the country that hates his views. While the sneakered, loafered, sandaled and high-heeled liberals along the East and West Coasts foresee only the downfall of the United States, Bush's booted conservative supporters in the Midwest are jumping out of their shoes in excited glee and delightful triumph. The smaller the town and the greater its distance from the ocean, the more support there seems to be for Ashcroft, posters of bloody and deformed fetuses, and rallies in front of abortion clinics.
America hasn't seen so sharp a demographic divide since the dawn of the Civil War. Large cities, especially those with ports, are flooded with pro-choice, sign-waving, affirmative action-supporting, social welfare-applauding Democrats eager to apply hot irons to the soles of Dubya's boots. Small towns such as those you're likely to see in a bucolic, turn-of-the-century painting, on the other hand, boast an overwhelmingly pro-life, meritocracy-embracing, states' rights-promoting Republican population, that, given the opportunity, would proudly dirty its own shoes kneeling on the floor to kiss their president's ornate royal slippers.
This ideological chasm has led many politicians into quite a predicament. Straddling the brinks of both extremes with one oxforded foot in each zone, our national leaders, by trying to please everyone, have attained nothing. Afraid to alienate the liberals, they cannot take a strong stand against abortion. Gun-related violence cannot be attributed to guns, lest the cowboy-booted NRA conservatives be offended. Because taking a strong stand will only lose them half the country's votes, politicians have decided, instead, to take no stance at all. The center of the political spectrum has become a popular hangout. While this offends no one, it pleases even fewer.
This explains why, after defeating Al Gore for the title of "Most Neutral Politician," Bush has decided that he would rather please his half of America, rather than no one at all. "Majority rules" seems to be Bush's adopted policy as president. Yet, there is not one majority in the United States, but two-a liberal one on the coastlines and a conservative one in the middle.
In the American spirit of democracy, then, both majorities should be allowed to rule. Sound familiar? The last time we tried that, the United States of America came frighteningly close to being the Disunited States of America.
Yet, ours is truly "one country, indivisible." Despite all the differences in ideology and, more importantly, footwear, Americans are determined to stay together in the end. Whatever the obstacles that mar our view or obstruct the trail before us, we have always, and will forever continue, to obstinately follow the sole and primary road that was first marked by the colonists, then cleared by our Founding Fathers, and eventually trod upon by each American president in succession.
Many have embarked on the presidential path, some bent on following in the footsteps of past leaders, others intent on creating tracks of their own. Yet the path was paved in stone long ago-it is difficult to lose one's way.
At present, Bush's presidential policies, like his ostentatious boots, may stand out painfully from their surroundings and point defiantly away from the road. Ultimately, however, his mischievously meandering boots will find themselves stumbling back onto the main road, leading an eclectic assortment of shoes ranging from the rural boot to the metropolitan oxford. Whether willingly or begrudgingly, each shoe will step in sync with the others.
Until, that is, we reach the bend in the road ... and the next elections.