Yep, it’s unmistakable. GOP presidential candidate Rick Perry, governor of Texas, bears an uncanny resemblance to former President George W. Bush, a former Texas governor. It may not be immediately apparently in still shots, but the minute you see Perry walkin’ and talkin’ on camera, you start rubbin’ your eyes and checkin’ your hearin’.
It’s eerie how much alike these two are, and very depressing. I’ve written so much about my dislike for Dubya that those posts alone would make a lengthy blog. Now, to have his doppelganger showing up after I’d made so much progress in my 12-step … er, 12-year recovery program is probably the worst thing I could have imagined. Dubya’s nomination in 2000 was the final straw that drove me out of the Republican Party after a lifetime of membership (at the time I was muttering something like “I hope the nation can survive this man’s presidency).
I detest that cocky Texas swagger, the cowboy boots with suits, the folksy way of speakin’, the my-religion-in-your-face thing. Both Texas governors, both “all hat, no cattle.” Now both pilots? Nooo! I’m being forced to re-live one of my worst nightmares. And if all that weren’t enough, Perry packs a pistol. George Bush on steroids. OMG.
I don’t know how Perry reads his tea leaves or counts his cattle, but he best play down that resemblance to Dubya. I’m guessing (or hoping) the similarity will hurt him far more than it will help and that it won’t play well outside of Texas. Even here in Denver where the Old West is still young, folks don’t cotton to boots and Stetsons with business suits. Most consider it an affectation, a getup, or a costume that should have been checked at the door along with the horse and gun.
But all that aside. What really, really gets to me in Moos’s piece is how Perry works a crowd. Friendly hand-shaking is one thing; pawing the women and kids like they’re family is repulsive. You don’t go touching and hugging women you don’t know, and you sure as heck don’t stroke their kids like you’re sizing them up for something illegal. Sheesh. To think I was offended by the presumptuousness of John McCain’s incessant “my friends.” I know I’m starting to sound like Howie Mandel, or maybe just a really uptight old lady, but if we don’t know each other, you don’t go puttin’ your hands on me. Period.
So, did I mention I don’t like Rick Perry?