Uneasy Rests the Head

That's Trying to Figure How to Rock the Thorns

Back in 1986, Clare Luce -- who had been a Congresswoman and war correspondent during World War II and a writer of hit plays before that -- came up with quite an image in introducing then-President Ronald Reagan at a big Washington dinner. She started off by quoting what previous presidents had said about the job:

            Woodrow Wilson, according to Luce, called it "no bath of rosewater."

            George Washington, at the onset of his second term, said he felt "like a culprit going to the place of his execution."

            John Adams remarked that "no man who ever held the office would congratulate a friend on obtaining it."

            Grover Cleveland called his second term, "a self-inflicted penance for the good of the country."

            Warren Harding called it "a hell of a job" that gave him no trouble with his enemies, only with his "damn friends."

            The best assessment of the office, according to Luce -- was by James Buchanan.

            "The presidency," Luce quoted Buchanan as saying, “is a distinction far more glorious than the crown of any hereditary monarch in Christendom, but yet, it is a crown of thorns."

            Then Luce got round to Reagan:

            "Ronald Reagan, beloved at home and feared and respected abroad, also wears a crown of thorns. But Ronald Reagan wears it jauntily, cocked over one ear. He wears it smiling."

              I'm not sure a very religious Christian would be comfortable with that image, which kind of undercuts the crucifixion. Furthermore, my impression of Reagan is by no means as rosy as Luce's. And Buchanan's reputation as the worst of our presidents, ever, may just hold up if we can manage not to re-elect Trump. Buchanan pledged to be a lame duck. He made innefective use of a devious backchannel to the Supreme Court. He  tried to buy Alaska from Russia but couldn't pull the trigger. He seemed to think that opposition to slavery would blow over (as the Civil War loomed) if he muddled rather than meddled. His hair looked like it had been half-heartedly pasted onto half of his head. Buchanan would have managed to wear a crown of thorns in an unstable, wishy-washy way.

            But Luce had a knack: She coined the word "globaloney," meaning international political nonsense. She is credited, at least, with being the first to say, "A hospital is no place to be sick" and "No good deed goes unpunished."

            Her cocky-thorny-mock-halo image has stuck with me ever since I tore it contemporaneously from Betty Beale's Washington column in the Nashville Tennessean.

            So let us picture current presidential hopefuls (if that is the word) wearing a crown of thorns:

            Vivek Ramaswamy: Tilted back. So we can see his forehead, where his brains are, and see, as well, that he finds all this a hoot.

            Ron DeSantis: When asked, "What is that on your head?" he says, "What?"

            Nikki Haley: Whatever she wears, she wears it in such a way as to make clear that her hair will never be on fire.

            But let's cut to the chase:

            Joe Biden:  Square-on, except set back just a bit so as not to entirely waste all the money he has poured into transplants.

            Donald Trump: The thorns are tiger's teeth, but exiguously bent into place, and fake.

And here is yet another limerick

In our series about sketchy males

      Our next-door neighbor, Barry,     

      Is so pronouncedly hairy       

            You can't see his face

            Except for a trace

      Of an eye here and there. But that's Barry.