My brother, bless him, in the early 1990's thought Jimmy, although an utter failure as President, was at least showing himself to be a good man in his good works. My brother was mostly basing this opinion on Carter's well publicised Habitat for Humanity appearances (or was it Acorn, or bird houses, or rabbit hutches for delinquent rabbits), made for the evening news and CBS Sunday Sunday Morning fawning. These well choreographed events would show Jimmy climbing a ladder, Jimmy hammering a nail, Jimmy congratulating a black (always) unwed grandmother with two generations of unwed mothers moving into the house that Jimmy built.
Jimmy likes publicity. Jimmy likes good publicity.
Sounds like a Seinfeld episode.
Anyway, back to my brother.
He gave his warm opinion of Jimmy and before he put a period on his opinion, it must have seemed like I had jumped across the table to be in his face to vociferously disagree!
I said something like this: Jimmy Carter doesn't do anything for anybody but Jimmy Carter. He only hammers nails, inspects elections in banana republics, jumps in front of the parades at pre-brokered peace deals for the camera. His only goal was to get a Peace Price as proof that America was a full of a bunch of rubes who don't appreciate what a self serving, sanctimonious son of a bitch he really is!
My brother now shares that same opinion.
Joe Queenan on Jimmy Carter's Addiction to Writing Books - WSJ.comOCTOBER 9, 2010
Jimmy Carter: Can't Stop the Typing
In November 1980, the American people made a disastrous decision whose reverberations are still being felt today. Rather than biting the bullet
and re-electing the glum, uncharismatic, hopeless Jimmy Carter to the White House—thereby ensuring that he would return to Plains, Ga., at
the conclusion of his second term and keep his blabberpuss shut—they turfed him out into the street.
That made him mad. Really mad. By giving one of America's dopiest presidents the bum's rush, the American people ensured that Mr. Carter
would spend the rest of his life trying to even the score, trying to persuade them that they had made a huge mistake when they cast their lot with
Ronald Reagan, trying to convince them that they were a bunch of jerks.
The particular form of retribution Carter chose was as sinister and cruel as any known to man. He took his pen in hand and began to write
books. Long books. Boring books. Dour books. Yes, long, boring, dour, numerous books. Books with sanctimonious names like "Keeping Faith"
and "Living Faith" and "Leading a Worthy Life." Books with pompous names like "Turning Point," "Our Endangered Values" and "Always a
Reckoning." Books with hokey names like "Christmas in Plains" and "Everything to Gain: Making the Most of the Rest of Your Life." And yes,
even books with names like "The Little Baby Snoogle-Fleejer" that defy classification.
He has not set his pen down since.
-continues at above link to article-
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