Archive for October 5, 2004

It’s a-hard and it’s hard, ain’t it hard

From Charles Pierce (writing at Altercation):

So it’s a hard job being president, is it? In all my days, which go back to the end of Second Ike, I have never heard an incumbent president mention how difficult the job is. They’re always “honored by the trust” the American people — or, in this case, Antonin Scalia — have placed in them. I mean, as I have learned in this big old new book of political history that I brought with me, FDR served for 16 years, through the Great Depression and World War II, and it was only at the very end that he even made mention of the fact that he was in a wheelchair. That C-Plus Augustus made (by my count) nine references to the difficulty of his job last week is the best measure that he was coming a little unstrung. What did he possibly hope to gain by it? The sympathy of some laid-off sheet-metal worker? The understanding of some wounded vet? A pat on the head from Karen Hughes?

It’s supposed to be hard, as Tom Hanks says in that women’s baseball movie. If it wasn’t hard, everybody would do it. And, as we’ve come to learn, not everybody can.

Worth noting between now and November 2nd

David Kay says there’s no WMD, Jerry Bremer says we didn’t have enough troops, John McCain says Bush blew it in Iraq, and Lincoln Chafee says he won’t vote for George Bush this year. And those are all Republicans!

Kevin Drum

And don’t forget John Eisenhower.

All Creatures Great and Small

Pardon me if I mourn the lost coffee more than the spider who died what must have been an unpleasant death in the carafe sometime between the first cup and the expected second cup this morning.

I will fight no more forever

I am tired of fighting. Our Chiefs are killed; Looking Glass is dead, Ta Hool Hool Shute is dead. The old men are all dead. It is the young men who say “Yes” or “No.” He who led the young men is dead. It is cold, and we have no blankets; the little children are freezing to death. My people, some of them, have run away to the hills, and have no blankets, no food. No one knows where they are - perhaps freezing to death. I want to have time to look for my children, and see how many of them I can find. Maybe I shall find them among the dead. Hear me, my chiefs! I am tired. My heart is sick and sad. From where the sun now stands, I will fight no more forever.

Chief Joseph of the Nez-Percé surrendering to Gen. Nelson Miles on this date in 1877.

The Library of Congress tells us:

With 2,000 U.S. soldiers in pursuit, Chief Joseph led fewer than 300 Nez Percé Indians towards freedom at the Canadian border. For over three months, the Nez Percé outmaneuvered and battled their pursuers traveling over 1,000 miles across Oregon, Washington, Idaho, and Montana. On October 5, 1877, Chief Joseph, exhausted and disheartened, surrendered in the Bear Paw mountains of Montana, 40 miles south of Canada.