I had lunch with Joe Wilson today. Not for the first time (you can read about another lunch after the jump), but now he's a candidate for City Council and we talked about some web stuff so I thought I should tell you.

As I've said during previous campaigns, I'll gladly meet with any candidate and have the same conversation.

Trying to survive turning 35

Edward Cone
News & Record
6-13-97

My friend Billy Joe and I were having lunch at a low-rent fish-house in south Greensboro, both of us feeling about as fried and warmed-over as the grouper special.

Billy Joe had just turned 35, and I was getting ready to do the same. Halfway to our allotted three-score-and-ten, middle-aged by definition, there seemed nothing good to say about the situation.

''There are still people who think 35 is young,'' I ventured.

''Yeah,'' said Billy Joe. ''Old people.''

''The people we still picture ourselves as regard us as fossils,'' I said. ''That is very depressing.''

''I went to the Dave Matthews concert, and some kid tried to offer me a joint,'' said Billy Joe.

''That's sort of encouraging,'' I said. ''At least he thought you were in his peer group.''

''Yeah,'' said Billy Joe. ''Except for the fact that he offered by saying, Here, Old Dude.''

We sat and drank tea so sweet that my teeth were starting to hurt.

''I gave up on being an enfant terrible a long time ago,'' I confessed. ''But I still held out some hope of being a boy wonder. What's left? Elder statesman?''

Then Billy Joe had an inspiration.

''We can run for president,'' he said. ''Our country feels that at 35 we have the maturity to make the big decisions.''

We both started to feel better right away, realizing just how right our country was about us.

''If I were president, I would be faithful to my wife,'' I said. ''People might enjoy the novelty.

''If I were president, I would back a resolution to change the national anthem to 'Voodoo Chile (Slight Return)' by Jimi Hendrix.''

''That would be very cool at the Olympic medal ceremonies,'' agreed Billy Joe. ''It would scare the hell out of other countries, and it's a lot easier to sing than the one we've got now.''

Great ideas began to flow like endless refills of sweet tea: Mandatory natural grass for baseball and football, a constitutional amendment banning Rosie O'Donnell.

Even in an era of limited government, we felt sure our plan to guarantee floating mulligans for the front and back nines was a winner.

''We could ease up on tobacco and crack down on country music,'' suggested Billy Joe.

''We could make Jesse Helms ambassador to the moon,'' I said. ''We could deport the Spice Girls.''

Working feverishly, we began to appoint our senior administration and cabinet officials: Dale (The Intimidator) Earnhardt for secretary of defense, Pamela Anderson Lee as secretary of state - ''Baywatch'' is, after all, the most popular television program on the planet - and the obvious choice for surgeon general: Dr J.

After some debate over the protocol of having a fictional character in an important government job, we settled on Matlock for attorney general.

''We could make Kramer from 'Seinfeld' the vice president,'' said Billy Joe. ''He's used to playing second fiddle, and he's a whole lot funnier than Al Gore.''

Now came a potentially divisive issue: Which of us would actually make the run for the highest office in the land, seize the day by stepping up to the plate to throw his hat in the ring in order to form a more perfect union?

''You do it,'' said Billy Joe.

''No way. I look doofy when I jog, and they always catch that on camera,'' I said. ''Plus, those state dinners frequently conflict with Carolina basketball games.''

''I have no desire to live in Washington,'' said Billy Joe. ''You can't even get hushpuppies there, and you've always got strangers in the Lincoln Bedroom.

''Maybe we're more behind-the-scenes guys,'' he said. ''We just need a politician to implement our vision.''

Any of you geezers want to take a shot?

© News & Record 1997