Dave Barry - Dave Barry Slept Here

Once more everything seemed to be going pretty well, until, wouldn’t you know it, along came ...

This was caused when the Russians noticed that every morning approximately 173,000 East Berlin residents commuted to work in West Berlin, and every evening approximately 8 Of them commuted back. The Russians, showing the kind of subtle public-relations skills that have made them so popular everywhere they tromp, responded by building the Berlin Wall, which created a crisis that was not resolved until President Kennedy went over there in person and made the famous inspirational proclamation “Ich bin ein Berliner” (“I wish to see a menu”). This calmed international tensions, but only briefly, for in October 1962 a major event was to occur, an event that would become the focus of the world’s attention for several tense days. We refer, of course, to the World Series, in which the Yankees beat the Giants four games to three. Also, there was a Cuban missile crisis, which the United States won in the final minutes by going into a “prevent” defense.

Another shocking development that occurred at this time was that “Dick” Nixon reached such a low level of credibility with the voters that even California refused to elect him as governor. In his concession speech, Nixon told the press: “You won’t have Dick Nixon to kick around anymore,” prompting the reporters, in a fit of nostalgia, to batter him unconscious with their wingtips. This was widely believed to be the end of his career.

So by 1963, all things considered, the sixties seemed to be going pretty well. Which just goes to show that you can never tell, because except for the discovery of Aretha Franklin, the rest of the decade turned out to be ...

First of all, Kennedy was assassinated, which was traumatic enough in itself but was made even worse by the fact that we never did find out for sure what happened, which means that for the rest of our lives we’re going to be opening People magazine and reading articles about Yet another conspiracy buff claiming to have conclusive proof that Lee Harvey Oswald was actually working for Roy Orbison or the Nabisco Corporation or whatever.

THEN we got President Lyndon Johnson, who tried his darnedest, by means of looking somber to the point of intestinal discomfort, to convey integrity, but who nevertheless made you think immediately of the large comically dishonest Warner Brothers cartoon rooster Foghorn Leghorn. Plus his wife—this is still difficult to believe even years later—was named “Lady Bird.” Johnson was nevertheless elected overwhelmingly in 1964, easily defeating Republican nominee Barry Goldwater, who turned out to be an OK guy but who at the time appeared to be perfectly likely to launch a nuclear first strike against, say, New York.

THEN we got into the Vietnam War, which is still causing arguments involving: the people who supported it but didn’t fight in it, versus the people who didn’t support it but did fight in it, versus the people who didn’t support it and didn’t fight in it, versus the people who supported it and might have had to fight in it if ever the Indiana National Guard had been called up, which was of course a distinct possibility, and so on.

THEN more people got assassinated and everybody started hating everybody and there were riots in the streets. THEN Gilligan’s Island was canceled.

So by 1968 things were really bad. They were so bad that it seemed impossible for them to get any worse, unless something truly horrible happened, something so twisted and sinister and evil that the human mind could barely comprehend it.

Yes. One day we turned on our televisions, and there he was, “Dick” Nixon, looking stronger than ever despite the holes in his suit where various stakes had been driven into his heart. He was advertised as a “new” Nixon with all kinds of amazing features, including an illuminated glove compartment and a secret plan to end the war in Vietnam, but of course he couldn’t tell the voters what it was, because then it wouldn’t have been a secret plan.

Nixon’s running mate was an individual named Spiro Agnew, whose principal qualification was that when You rearranged the letters of his name, You got “grow a penis” (Dick Cavett discovered this. Really.). Their campaign theme—we are not making this up—was “Law and Order.”

The Democrats, meanwhile, were in trouble. The war had become extremely unpopular, so President Johnson had decided not to seek reelection, which was an act of great statesmanship in the sense that nobody except maybe Lady Bird would have voted for him anyway. The process by which the Democrats decided who their new nominee would be was about as organized as a tub of live bait, culminating in the 1968 Chicago convention which consisted of spokespersons for about 253 major ideological factions giving each other the finger through clouds of tear gas. Out of this process emerged Hubert Humphrey, a nice man with a lot of solid experience and an unfortunate tendency to sound like Porky Pig, only not as dignified. On top of this, the Democrats had to contend with the candidacy of Alabama governor George Wallace, who appealed to what the political experts called “disaffected Democrats” defined as “Democrats missing teeth.”

And thus it was that on election day, October 8, 1968, the voters went to the polls and elected, as leader of the greatest nation that the world has ever seen, President Richard Milhous N ... President Richard M ... President R ... Please don’t make us do this.

Nixon’s first official act as president was to sneak out behind the White House and bury his secret peace plan to ensure that nobody would find out what it was, which would have been a breach of national security. With that

important task accomplished, he swung into action, working feverishly to accomplish his most important objective, to realize the cherished dream that had driven him through all these years of disappointment, to reach the long-sought goal that, thanks to his election was finally within his grasp, namely: getting reelected.

1. Didn’t you always, even when you were sitting around with your friends pretending to be really enthralled, secretly hate sitar music? Admit it.

The seventies dawned with “Dick” Nixon riding high. The nation had surged ahead in the space race through a series of courageous accomplishments by astronauts such as Donald “Deke” Slayton, Edwin “Buzz” Aldrin, Scott “Scotty” Carpenter, and Nicholas “Nicky the Squid” Calamari, climaxing with the historic moment on October 8 when Neil “Satchmo” Armstrong became the first human, with the possible exception of guitarist Jimi Hendrix, to set foot on the Moon, where he expressed the emotions of an anxiously watching world with the unforgettable statement “Hi Mom!”

On the foreign-policy front, Nixon continued to protect the national security by not telling anybody, not even his secret wife, Pat, what his secret plan to end the Vietnam War was. At the same time, he undertook a major clandestine foreign-policy initiative by sending chocolates and long-stemmed roses to legendary Communist Chinese revolutionary leader Mao (“Mo the Dong”) Zedong. Helping him with this initiative was the brilliant, avocado-shaped genius Henry Kissinger, who became the nation’s top foreign-policy strategist despite being born with the handicaps of a laughable accent and no morals or neck.