Many of the contributors to Maggie’s Farm seem kindred spirits to me, but Bird Dog in particular often seems like my Doppelganger. He has an almost identical sensibility to my own, and he shares to a T my transgressive sense of humor.
This latest from BD features exactly the kind of thing I’d likely have said myself. My wife’s Vassar-educated professional musician aunt proudly created an academic program which delivered the first harpsichords to China. Aunt Louise asked me what I thought of her accomplishment, and I replied that I’d have been better pleased if she’d arranged to deliver hydrogen bombs to the Red Chinese. Louise paled, but eventually laughed.
We are putting our other, youngest, college daughter on a plane to Saigon Ho Chi Minh City this afternoon, via Shanghai, with a pocketful of cash, a backpack, a carry-on, and her best camera. She’s done a fair amount of world-traveling on her own and with us, so it’s no big deal for her. Like me, she travels casually. She threw some stuff into her bags in 15 minutes this morning like I do. She’s doing a film. She promises to email pics, but she probably won’t bother because she is always driven to focus on her immediate goal, and ignores everything peripheral to it. Goal-directed almost to a fault, which seems to be what life requires these days. A terrier. She’ll be meeting an American friend in Hanoi via the train at some point. I gave her a kiss and had to say “Kill a Commie for Christ.” Somehow, PC eludes me and I always say the totally wrong thing, even on Christmas Day. Harvard would fire me.
Bird Dog ought to get his daughter one of those t shirts with the motto: “Bomb Hanoi, better late than never.”