Flip Floppin’ Fun

Let’s imagine that I have a son, a little nine year-old boy. Let’s name him Thaddeus, too, because there’s no harm in giving imaginary kids humiliating-but-undeniably-cute names.

So one summer afternoon, little Thad comes scampering into the house, trailed by the unmistakable sound of an ice cream truck’s melody. “Dad,” says Thad, “Can I get some some ice cream?”

“Why, of course, Thad,” I say, remembering my youth and wanting only the best for young Thaddeus. He charges outside, yelling, “Ice cream! Ice cream!” I smile fondly at his retreating form…

Outside, young Thaddeus grabs a baseball bat, a sturdy Louisville Slugger, runs to the ice cream truck, and assaults the ice cream man. He beats him bloody, renders him unconscious, and ties him up in the back of the truck. Thad takes the ice cream truck for a 2 hour, reckless joyride, knocking over road-signs, terrorizing the neighborhood, squashing Mrs. Abram’s dog, and traumatizing several local children for life. Thad finally runs the truck over a cliff, jumping out just in time before it plummets 200 feet onto a rocky beach, sending the ice cream man and all his tempting confections to a fiery doom.

Twenty minutes later, Thaddeus comes home, munching happily on a Chocolate Swirl-Kone with sprinkles. Immediately, I lay into him, lecturing him sternly, grounding him, and venting my extreme disapproval. Thad looks at me squarely and protests, “But Dad, you said I could get ice cream.”

I’m nonplussed. He’s got a point. Am I a flip-flopper?

You might see where I’m going with this little pastoral tale - President Bush’s simpleminded but curiously successful accusation that John Kerry has flip-flopped on the war has much in common with the Allegory of Young Thaddeus Felber.

In fact, Kerry did me (as Papa Felber) one better. In the speech he made on the Senate floor as he voted to authorize the use of force in Iraq, he spelled out that he was trying to bring restraint and diplomacy into the conversation:

“But regime change in and of itself is not sufficient justification for going to war–particularly unilaterally–unless regime change is the only way to disarm Iraq…”

“If we do wind up going to war with Iraq, it is imperative that we do so with others in the international community, unless there is a showing of a grave, imminent–and I emphasize “imminent”–threat to this country which requires the President to respond in a way that protects our immediate national security needs.”

See, so a more accurate allegory would involve a slightly different approach by me in the role of Thad’s Dad. Let’s rewind a bit…

“Dad,” says Thad, “Can I get some some ice cream?”

“Why, of course, Thad,” I say, remembering my youth and wanting only the best for young Thaddeus.

“But wait,” I say, holding up an admonishing finger at the boy. “Before you go, I have some fatherly advice. I think it would be best if you buy an ice cream, thank the vendor, and return peacefully to our household. I would be unhappy if you chose to accomplish this little ice cream procuring scheme by assaulting and ultimately murdering the ice cream man whilst breaking any number of laws, terrorizing the neighborhood, and destroying life and property. That would make me unhappy, so see if you can’t get your ice cream without doing that, okay? Now run along, Thad.”

That’s probably a more accurate analogy, and if - after his rampage - Thaddeus returned and accused me of flip-floppery, well, the young rascal wouldn’t have a leg to stand on. That’s why Bush’s misleading and oft-repeated assertion that Kerry “voted for the war” is singularly dishonest and reeks of Thaddism.

There are right and wrong ways to protect our country, just like there are right and wrong ways to get a snack on a summer’s evening. And there are consequences for choosing the wrong way. If only bad Thad had listened to his dad, I’d have a much happier hypothetical family. And we’d have a much happier, less dangerous, completely non-hypothetical world.