Back to Writings Main Menu
August / September 2001
Would Somebody Please Buy Jenna Bush a Corona!
A few weeks ago, I settled in to watch the evening world news. What
station, which anchor, is not important. About three minutes before
the start, the gentleman who would be leading me through the ills of
the planet for the next half hour appeared on my screen declaring sternly,
"Shocking new developments in the Jenna Bush situation (pause to
let the enigmatic statement ricochet around the brain)…NEXT!"
My mind started racing… Was she hurt? Abducted? Chased by a pack
of wolves through the streets of Texas? WHAT??? Then the news started
and the talking head solemnly let me know that for the second time in
two months, Jenna Bush, OUR Jenna Bush, nineteen years old, had been
cited for alcohol possession by a minor. For a split second, the world
made sense again. Until the psychologists came on overanalyzing the
situation to the point where I needed a drink.
Oh, and what followed was just some little nothing about a peace treaty
and some political unrest that had resulted in a few teeny executions,
but those stories were shorter than the commercials. Move along people,
nothing to see here.
What is the media's fascination with our public political personalities'
private lives? Does it truly matter if Carter "lusted in his heart,"
if Clinton did or did not "have sexual relations with that woman,"
or if Reagan thought of the Star Wars defense system during passionate
sex? (How's that for imagery?) Hell no!
Besides, Julia Roberts told Time magazine that she relates with Jenna
Bush. And if it's OK for Julia, it's OK for me. Julia is no stranger
with having to deal with the press. She giggles throughout her Oscar
acceptance speech and she gets killed in the media for being aloof.
Had she just said, "thank you" she would have been called
a bitch. You can't win. It's all good, Julia, we here at RAZOR love
ya.
It amazes me that the people who thrive on all of this stuff, who love
to drag the skeletons out of the closet, probably have graveyards under
their own houses. Can't we let people be? Does anyone get it? I'll tell
you who gets it. Whoever was the Secret Service officer assigned to
Jenna gets it. This guy or girl surely knows what a beer bong is. And,
I'm sure he or she knew what it was like being nineteen, never mind
nineteen and the daughter of the leader of the free world. Whoever you
are, thanks for turning a blind eye and getting Jenna home safely on
the nights when she wasn't being harassed by plain clothes cops looking
to make their bones.
After what Jenna has gone through, is there any doubt she has a private
stash all over the White House? The Map Room and the State Dining Room
are probably treasure troves of tall-boys. It's OK Jenna, we understand.
Anytime you want to kick back a few tall ones, give us a shout. And
bring that cool Secret Service agent with you.
Enjoy the Issue,
Richard Botto,
Editor in Chief / CEO of RAZOR Magazine - The Definitive Men's Lifestyle Magazine
www.razormagazine.com
