President Consort or SOPOUS
We need a break from all of the impertinences us good people have been enduring. Do I have to explain them? Of course not.
I thought it might be fun on this day for a soupçon of a cute story. There can be some pleasant anecdotes even though some smirks and raised eyebrows can be forth coming.
It does seem that lots of people want to continue a mode of electing the first person of race and gender.
The firsts! Actually, as has been talked and written about ad nauseum, so many voters would gladly have given William Jefferson Clinton a third term. Lots, too, would have loved to change the Constitution to allow presidents three four-year terms.
That would have been extremely difficult when William J. Blythe III finished his second term as the 42nd president.
You have to give him credit for his long suffering and diligence. I'm not wise-cracking here. He's been maneuvering since the day he left the 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue edifice for a return.
It's no surprise here that so many Americans supporting his wife, really prefer Bill, as he's called by Mrs. C. The pollsters have neglected to ask that question.
Dare I query any influence on the Missus by the Man? Please remember the words of Dorothy Parker: "wit has truth in it but wise-cracking is simply calisthenics."
The current political foray has been a mess of sexual innuendoes and alleged extra-bedroom athletics. This will continue to the official voting day.
All this leads me to recall a September 2011 afternoon in Alexandria, Virginia. Mrs. C's vice presidential mate was in a tight race for the junior U.S. senate seat from the Old Dominion. The premises were packed with thousands of people. The count was certified by the sheriff's office. The majority of the crowd was girls, young and old, dressed in bright fall colors, some with beautiful chrysanthemums. The crowd was excited and could barely stand still. The attraction, supposedly Tim Kaine, the candidate, was in anticipation of President Clinton. No kidding the crowd was entranced as if some rock star was en route.
The featured attraction, as usual, was late arriving at the City Hall venue.
Since the outside crowd was squirming, I moved inside the public facility with several people, one a local editor and the other an Alexandria housewife. We gabbed about the events to come.
Suddenly, several Secret Service agents entered the room, out of breath. Their protectee had given them the slip. The slippee?
Well, after the agents left the room, a fellow smiling ear-to-ear trotted in with outstretched hand.
"Hi folks, I'm Bill Clinton."
A delightful moment for sure. He grabbed my hand and I introduced myself and then John Arundel, then editor of the Alexandria Times, and Linda Lawhorne. I added that Linda Lawhorne was wife of the city's sheriff.
The amiable former president, still beaming responded,
"Since she's the sheriff's wife, I'd better behave myself."
We all grinned. He thanked us for the welcome. Then, three blue-suited Secret Service guys finally found their quarry. They weren't laughing. They never did. But the happy warrior sprinted to the door and up the platform steps where he was greeted by thunderous applause. He was in his element.
Mrs. Secretary-Senator-FLOTUS could well be the first woman president, No. 45 with an asterisk.
I'd wager that Mr. Bill could/would still be calling some shots though as President Consort, not SOPOUS.
I'll spell it out: Spouse of the President of the United States. Nah! In reality, 45 with two asterisks.