I WAS VERY OPTIMISTIC

"I'm very optimistic."
"I'm brimming with optimism!"

Sound familiar? You anticipate something good that is going to happen and then it turns out to be a big disappointment. It could be the election of some promising new politician, it could be a relationship or a new job, or life itself. The candidate turns out to be just another corrupt hack with a good line of bull. Maybe the person you were so crazy about turns out to be just plain crazy. Perhaps that new job you had such high hopes for is just another dull grind. And maybe even your life itself has gone haywire. These things happen.

Do you stop brimming with optimism and enthusiasm? Become a pessimistic sourpuss always expecting the worse? Those people are a pain in the ass, but at least they are seldom disappointed. What's the proper response to life's endless letdowns? Well, we can laugh at our selves, that works. Sometimes the predicaments we find ourselves in are pretty funny. Or you can bitch and moan about the unfairness of it all, as if anybody ever told you life was fair. Bitching and moaning seems like just another poor choice, though, becoming one of those tedious people we so studiously avoid.

I'm thinking it's best to stay optimistic, but don't go overboard about it. No sense being a complete fool about things. When bad stuff happens, and it happens a lot, you've got to be a little prepared, at least emotionally. Sometimes things happen that no one saw coming, for which there is no preparation possible. Having a mildly retarded president springs to mind. So, when that happens, what do you do? Well, for one thing, you don't re-elect the boob for four more years to see if he can become un-retarded. So none of us is immune from bad choices, are we? It would seem Britney Spears has a lot of company in that department, no?

And when that retarded president reacts to an attack on our country by one guy, you would think that the Congress would sort of make sure the dopey president doesn't attack some other guy who had nothing to do with it, what with them being Senators and Congressmen and all. You know, responsible grown-ups, experienced leaders and governors that can sort of shield the nation from the excesses of a simpleton president. Isn't that what you'd think would happen? Well, it didn't, did it? They went along with every cockamamie notion that sprang into his pin head, didn't they?

And now you've got the bad guy who attacked us still at large, making more videos that Fifty Cent and an innocent country in shambles thanks to the retarded guy and the Congress who wouldn't discipline the overgrown child. As they say, you can't make this stuff up. FIve years and 4,000 dead American soldiers later nobody still knows what to do with the country we broke, as if it were our decision what to do with somebody else's nation. There are those who say we have to stay there now and fix what the retarded guy broke.

Isn't that sort of saying that the guy went into to some stranger's house and sawed one leg of the table too short and now it's wobbly so we have to keep sawing the other legs shorter to make it stable. The only problem is that there are three different people in charge of the other three legs of the table and no one can agree how much to shave off each one so that the table can stand up without wobbling. So far, that dinner table has been shaved down to the height of a coffee table and still they keep taking pieces off the legs without consulting one another and even that short coffee table wobbles like crazy. Do we stay in this person's house until he table is a flat piece of wood with no legs at all? Maybe tell them that we made them a nice new door?

Of course the best possible outcome would have been to not let a retarded guy loose in their house with a saw in the first place. The table they had was not the best table in the world and a pretty lousy guy sat at the head of it, but it was their table, not the retarded guy's or ours to mess with. When pinhead sawed one of the legs shorter we should have offered to buy them a new table and left it at that. Now they've got a committee in their house and they've all got power tools and they're all chopping away at the dinner table, sneaking little pieces of it out of the house when they realize they made another measurement mistake and the thing still wobbles like crazy.

But they keep sawing away, still never consulting the guys in charge of the other table legs, figuring the retarded guy is retiring soon and the wobbly table will be somebody else's problem, hopefully somebody who's not mentally handicapped. This is the kind of fine mess we humans get ourselves into all the time, a situation that was a career maker for Laurel and Hardy. Think of Bush The Younger as a grand piano mover with the piano hovering over the sidewalk suspended by the flimsiest of ropes. Now think of Iraq as the hapless pedestrian strolling down that sidewalk without care in the world. Bush The Younger is holding the rope while his boss Shotgun Dick Cheney is taking some heart medication. Bush The Younger has to sneeze in the worst way but knows his boss is cranky and irritable and carries a shotgun everywhere he goes. So who walks down the sidewalk just ahead of Iraq? Why, it's Great Britain, out strolling in the sun wearing a derby and carrying an umbrella, the perfect comedy props!

So now Bush The Younger has somebody to hold the rope so the piano doesn't come crashing down onto the sidewalk. Unfortunately the British guy can't understand the retarded guy's made-up cowboy accent and before you can say "Eh, what?" the retarded guy hands Great Britain the rope, and he drops it just as Iraq comes strolling down the sidewalk. Now Shotgun Dock scolds them both, then proceeds to empty Iraq's pockets, figuring what the hell, he won't miss anything now. Bush The Younger and Great Britain face the camera and give exaggerated shrugs and funny faces while Iraq and the grand piano lay smashed on the sidewalk. Roll the credits.

So that was the comedy short before the main attraction, which will have to be pretty dramatic with a very capable leading man. In the main attraction, the hero will be faced with rebuilding the grand piano and reviving the guy on the sidewalk. It's not a glamorous job or a desirable one, but that's what the next president will be facing, cleaning up the globe after Laurel and Hardy, The Three Stooges, Abbot and Costello, W.C. Fields and the Marx brothers have had their way with it. And we've all seen what they're capable of doing: the hot and cold water faucets will be reversed, the stove will be spouting 5-foot flames and doorways will open up to mid-air where they removed the stairs.

So feel optimistic all you like when your candidate gets elected, just don't expect them to have time to do very much other than stop one leak while another springs up just out of reach. When he reaches for a stepladder to reach a higher place you just know that the retarded guy will have taken his trusty saw to the rungs of that ladder before he left, resulting in more comedy hijinks and pratfalls. How long it will take to fix the unholy mess left by a retarded president with a cranky boss and a derby-wearing sidekick is anybody's guess. But it sure will be a humbling experience no matter who gets that unenviable job.

So let's not feel so bad about the poor choices we have made in our personal lives. Okay, so we got ourselves painted into a corner or two over the years, maybe pulled the steering wheel out of the car and handed it to the guy next to us. No big deal. There's always Act 2 to figure things out. If America can survive a retarded president with an evil cranky boss for eight years without completely falling apart, well, there's more than ample hope for the rest of us. So feel optimistic all you like because it can't get any worse than it's been. It can't, can it? Just in case, let's just replace the table now and leave the guy's house before we do any more damage. We've got enough to fix in our own house to keep us busy for a while. And I for one, am brimming with optimism that we can do it! God help me...