Last night I dreamt that Jeb Bush came up to me wearing a dodgy looking campaign swag style sweat shirt. White with some coffee drips down the front. He was shorter than he looks on TV, but just as lumbering and dopey.
Jeb, genuinely confused, asked, “Why do you think it didn’t work?”
I presumed he was talking about his campaign, so I said, “Why did you think it would work? I mean you brother was a TERRIBLE President. Nobody, and I mean nobody wants to see another Bush in there.”
To which he half nodded and half shrugged. Which seemed to provoke my anger a little.
“And just look at you. You dumb goofy oaf. Jesus Christ, have a little self respect.”
I could go Freudian, and try to unpack the symbolism of the dream, and maybe reveal some painful truths about my childhood, but I’d rather take its meaning at face value. 1) Like the Iraq War, the Jeb Campaign was ill conceived and poorly executed, and 2) I need a news vacation.