SENATOR TWO-GUN: IT COULD BE WORSE

One of the criticisms Virginia’s Senator George Allen has had to endure the last couple of months is that he has yet to outgrow a pre-puberty infatuation with cowboys. In a state bordering the Atlantic Ocean, he romps around in cowboy hat and boots, apparently fantasying that he is riding the open range in search of lost doggies, or something. (That Virginians put up with this infantilism says something about how far they have fallen since the state’s glory days.)

But it could be worse. When the cranky old guy was a youngster, he too had an infatuation. It was with Indians, or Native Americans as one is suppose to say nowadays. He ran through the neighboring woods in nothing but a loincloth and moccasins, dodging snakes and catching poison ivy.

Now a loincloth is not a particularly restraining piece of clothing. It is just a rectangular bit of material that is centered in the crotch of the wearer. The front and back rise to a belt around the waist, and the ends hang over the belt. Vigorous, or even minor, activity tends to result in exposure of portions of the anatomy best kept unexposed.

As he grew older, the cranky old guy’s interest in the history and culture of Indians, or Native Americans, continued, but his need to play make-believe waned. Perhaps it was the loincloth. Or maybe the poison ivy.

Senator Allen’s childhood infatuation is still front and center. Many of his constituents might find it strange, even irritating, but it could be worse. Instead of periodically donning the regalia of the make-believe cowboy—the hat, the boots, the chaw, the big belt buckle, the string tie—the good Senator could inflict has enormous girth on us covered only by a loincloth. Even the Senator’s most loyal constituency—Southside Virginians—might draw the line at that spectacle.

DSH