While eating a tuna roll, I sat in my astronaut chair and watched in dismay and delight as the honorable Governor Mark Sanford confessed to adultery. While I was watching the governor, I realized that I didn’t see what he saw. I saw a Momma’s boy caught with his hands in a red-hot pepper jar/pot. And he was crying for mother.
Sir, it is shameful what you did and oh, how, amortized it, sold-short, and complicated this human drama. It is proper to cry, it is expected. But there is a point when crying like praying should be done in a closet … or with friends in a smoky bar. I will follow every move, but please stop crying. Governor Mark Sanford’s performance is as shameful as his acts.
This display of tears shames the weeping that ever poured forth from mythical Southern Belles. No one should carry on like this … look at Trump, Donald Trump; he wears his bankruptcy breast fetish with aplomb, glamour, and style. He is a celebrity, a wealthy man, but do we know?
Are you crying because you didn’t have time to begin a petition of adultery against another before you were caught? Is your wife ill? Were you saved in a tent in Argentina? Is a cartel or two after you? You certainly seem to have a problem with “unrequited love.” Why are you standing there? Why didn’t you mail in your resignation and move to South America or vice versa?
This display of emotions was ripped from a bad script for adulterers. It is thus when the society page and the “weeping sisters,” storm into the headlines pushing revolution and human suffering off the front page. Assume there will be weeping and repentance.”
The Honorable Mark Sanford was caught with his hand in a hot pepper jar and he is running home to momma. Do I recall correctly that Governor Sanford was out of town when Myrtle Beach burned? There is a path to follow, scenes unfolded, but it the journey did not begin in at the trailhead of the Appalachian Trail in Georgia.
Mark, hopefully, these are your closing scenes, your epiphany. I have been in your wife’s position. Many have. These scenes take place in living rooms and bedrooms, sometimes the kitchen, but that is too close to knives.
I am not listening to television or sweeping the Internet. Even before I hear how your operatives spin their take on this story, I already know it. I know the script. It is the adultery of John Edwards with a Latin theme. I can guess at all the talking heads are saying … but I prefer my take on this whole event. It is as I have said before, “We have lost all of our senses.”
I am a student of history and DListed. I could write the lines off the cuff, basically the script so far. But believe me, Governor Mark Sanford will resign. There are some things you can’t get away with, even in South Carolina. It will be romp.
Sanford, pull on your big boy trousers and act like a gentleman, for Pete’s sake. That is all you have left.
What you do, how you act, what responsibilities you assume and resume, you are being watched. They will be watching while answering customer service calls in India, Pakistan, Iran, and North Korea. Do the best you can. Be honorable with what you leave behind. However, right now, you appear to be a cry baby and a cad.
Let’s think about it. Didn’t you suspect that there was trouble in Columbia? When a politician’s wife and the mother of his children speaks with the media, the jig is up. When she answers all media questions by saying, “I know nothing. I am just home being a mother to his kids,” you know there has been shouting. Let’s hope the kids were at their cousins’ house.
And the last thing, Mark Sanford did before he left was to locate his car keys.
When a man enters the Appalachian Trail and ends up in Argentina, there is something going on. (Before, I forget, we need to find out where he entered the trail, for future reference, this tale should be a fantasy. At least, I hope he didn’t hike.)
I have seen what happened. There was shouting. His wife was shouting as many would in her case, and she had reached the point where that was the only way she could get him to listen to her. He kept saying, “Shut up. Just shut up and listen.” But she kept screaming at him…about the children, the state and her mother. It was the screams of a broken heart, the screams of parting. Sanford’s last act was to find his keys and depart. Mrs. Sanford stayed behind and took care of Her children.
It was her husband who had been caught with his hands in the proverbial cookie jar, but this time, it is Latin. I watched, today, as Governor Sanford wiped away tears as he confessed too many trespasses.
As I watched Sanford sob and reveal too much information, Sanford saw a man victimized by Obama’s stimulus package and Internet emails. I saw a grown man crying over spilt milk. He saw a victim. Sanford’ performance was carried off in the true style of a Southern Belle. He got his script confused.
This man spent five days in the arms of a Latin mistress only romanticizing his Moral Dilemma. His vision of himself as he flew away from Argentina was parallel to the love story of the Dude and Duchess of Windsor. They thumbed their nose at a Monarchy, and lived happily forever in a distant kingdom. I see a hypocrite, but he sees the sweetheart of a Latin Duchess. Where will they establish a small kingdom?
Back home Mark Sanford is what we call a South Carolina dandy. He was only taught who he was. He was never taught to behave. This could be because he is from South Carolina. May I state my case?
In the Carolinas, the first rule of courtesy is to establish where you are from. Usually, these conversations begin with, “I believe my mother knew your mother.”
Much kinship has been discovered in these conversations. But if two people are talking and they are each from the Carolinas. The first fact established will be which state you hail from…North Carolina or South Carolina. Your stature will be measured by your territorial lineage.
If your great-great grand-daddy ever owned land and gave birth to another generation upon the “Low Country.” You have a heritage. This is similar to chess. It is best not to be a pawn from the Carolina Back Country. The rift-raft moved inland…because we were driven out, we were rowdy and half-feral. The families who rooted in the Piedmont were hardy, stubborn, people who did not take to being told what to do. The British and the genteel citizens and land barons of the Low Country did not want us around.
They encouraged us to depart. We followed the rivers inland dissolving into the first American wilderness. We were the German peasants and Scots-Irish farmers, the first to enter the Western Wilderness. Here, we faced the unknown, the Cherokee, and the Iroquois. Around the time, the back country settlers had tamed the Cherokee, built cabins, schools, and commerce, the Carolina Back Country settlers and pioneers freed the Low Country from the British. It was the citizens of the Carolina Backcountry saved everybody’s tush in the Battle of Kings Mountain. Here upon this red-clay land, we drew a line and drove America towards victory. But, first, there was the Battle of Ramseur’s Mill, the first civil war fought on American soil, but I digress.
Mark Sanford is a dandy wherever he is from. Did I actually hear him blame the Obama stimulus package for his breakdown? What a clever choice of words? Sanford was brought to his knees by the stimulus package and it made him sin.
It is best that he resign. He should do hard-time community service for the rest of his life and he must do it anonymously in hell. I am sure he will, but he will never see what a hypocrite he is. In this era when we need heroes, we are given…this?
But have you ever seen better television? Dear Gawd, will it become a television series? The answer must lie in Republican genes and it is not a gene that is restricted to the Southern Population? There have been so many?
It is logical to believe that if there are genes that can create illness, surely, this Republican blithe is such? Quick, William Bennett, write another book of ethic.
Is there not a Republican left standing who can live by the Golden Rule? They certainly preach it? If there is anyone sympatric to Mark, other than his mistress or possibly a cartel or a South American Government, feel sorry for Mark, please loan him a hanky. Now, I am going to watch it all unfold, knowing all the while that there are babies crying in the back room. Where are our heroes?
