A feature on Sunday Scaries that features men who, simply put, do not get Scaries. They’re mental giants. They crush anxiety and emerge better from it. They are truly better men than us. Previously featured are Coach Eric Taylor and Arnold Palmer.
Fuck your personal politics. George W. Bush is an OG, which, when I was 14, someone told me means, “original gangster.”
Take out the fact that he ran the greatest country in the world for damn near a decade. Just take that out of your head right now. Forget it. Presidencies don’t make the man. Presidencies are business, not personal. Eric Taylor once said, ”Every man at some point in his life is gonna lose a battle. He’s gonna fight and he’s gonna lose. But what makes him a man is that in the midst of that battle, he does not lose himself.” And ladies and gentleman, W. sure as shit has not lost himself.
Take his paintings, for example. I’m not going to sugarcoat it - he ain’t the best painter. But is he self-aware of the fact that he ain’t no Norman Rockwell? You bet your ass he is, or else he wouldn’t get painting lessons once a week in hopes to “unleash his inner-Rembrandt.” The guy is constantly trying to be better. Constantly trying to evolve. Relentlessly trying to paint the picture that is himself (Whoa, surprised myself with that line).
But in the midst of his paintings going public, what does Gawker do? They mock him:
"But the truly remarkable parts are the photos. The picture above is obviously excellent, but it’s nothing compared to George W. Bush’s attempts at painting, pictures of which he apparently emailed to his sister two months ago. The paintings, both self-portraits, are…well, just judge for yourself."
Get off your high-horse, Gawker. Who died and made you Robert Hughes? You think it’s motherfucking easy to paint a picture of a cat being a diva in front of a mirror? I got news for you, Walter Cronkite, it ain’t. Someone at Gawker Media is going to get their shit kicked in next time I decide to take a bite out of the Big Apple. The dude is 67, for heaven’s sake! Are you going to mock your grandpa’s hobbies, Taylor Berman of Gawker? Are you going to try and embarrass him in front of your friends when he shows you his landscapes? No, you aren’t. You’re going to encourage him to keep that shit up and show you more at Christmas while you’re at his house, eating his food, and sitting on his couch, with his remote in your hand.
I mean, when you quit drinking to spend time with your family (Yeah, I read Decision Points, NBD), you need hobbies too. You gotta paint. You gotta run. You gotta mountain bike. You gotta watch football. You gotta get philanthropic on everyone’s ass. I don’t see anyone at Gawker hosting any golf tournaments for wounded veterans. It’s all fun and games, Taylor Berman, isn’t it? Everyone’s got a plan ‘til they get punched in the mouth, bro. Sucks when someone pushes you off your soapbox, don’t it, Taylor?
When people trash Men Better Than Us, sometimes someone has to come to their rescue and defend their honor. As Joey from The Real World (RIP) said, “I was not like this before I stepped in this house!” Gawker made me step into this house. So sorry, Taylor Berman from Gawker - shoulda got out my face before I shot up the place, because I see some ladies tonight that gonna be havin’ my babay (babay).
(And yeah, I know that’s not how the Biggie line goes and that it didn’t totally make sense, but you can’t dim my shine when a drop-the-mic moment occurs like that.)