June 10, 2004

MEMORIES OF REAGAN

Is anyone else appalled about the wistfulness with which the country is looking back on the 80s? I’ll give you some memories of the “Reagan” years. The economy was in the tank, fingers were way too close to the nuclear trigger and skirt lengths were definitely too long. Every jerk I went to school with was a "Gordon Gekko" business major whose deepest dream was to own a BMW. I remember laying awake each night, straining to hear the sound of incoming missiles, with more than just a little justification brought on by our little, dead solder. Give me a break. He was a charming, fascist. And did I mention that skirts were way too long?

Here, here to Dr. X for pointing out the real hero of the Cold War. We survived despite the best efforts of the man most of America is now going dopy-eyed over. No bagpipes for you Mr. Reagan.

Whew.......I feel better.

5 Comments:

Blogger VMM said...

Word to that, Brother.

June 10, 2004 at 4:11 PM  
Blogger JAB said...

TESTIY!

June 11, 2004 at 1:09 PM  
Blogger JAB said...

TESTIFY!!

June 11, 2004 at 1:09 PM  
Blogger Corresponding Secretary General said...

I am waiting for the medical report describing the onset of Alzheimer's symptons somewhere around 1986. Travelling in Central America during the Reagan Administration (and getting stuck in Guatemala for two weeks after that actor fired all of the air traffic controllers) I find myself appallingly, viscerally appalled at the admiration shot his way.

This is one grave I've got a hot date to dance on. I suspect I'll sing that Elvis Costello song about Mags Thatcher: "I'll stand on your grave and tramp the dirt down."

June 15, 2004 at 11:44 AM  
Blogger Corresponding Secretary General said...

I am waiting for the medical report describing the onset of Alzheimer's symptons somewhere around 1986. Travelling in Central America during the Reagan Administration (and getting stuck in Guatemala for two weeks after that actor fired all of the air traffic controllers) I find myself appallingly, viscerally appalled at the admiration shot his way.

This is one grave I've got a hot date to dance on. I suspect I'll sing that Elvis Costello song about Mags Thatcher: "I'll stand on your grave and tramp the dirt down."

June 15, 2004 at 11:45 AM  

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