By DAVID GREEN
I’m sure you feel sorry for the presidential candidates as they have their lives ripped open before us. We’re learning all the private details.
Barack Obama gets morning breath. Elizabeth Edwards felt a rib pop when receiving a big hug from her husband.
Rudolph Giuliani’s third wife described her husband as a really high testosterone guy. Mr. Obama also leaves dirty socks around the bedroom.
Maybe it started 30 years ago when Jimmy Carter told an interviewer that he has lusted in his heart for women other than his wife.
“Lusted in his heart.” I haven’t thought about that line for a long time. I have felt a longing in my liver, a licentiousness in my loins, a lewdness in my lymph nodes.
Thirty years ago, I wrote in this space that I had no intentions of running for public office this year, but I would keep my options open for the future.
With that in mind, I delved into my own past to bring to the forefront my transgressions before they were discovered by the press once my campaign was well underway.
I described the act of contrition as one of the most embarrassing things I’ve ever done, but noted that it was better to read it here in the Observer than in some scandal sheet such as the Archbold Buckeye.
Here’s the list of my depravity.
August, 1955: Assault. My baby brother Dan bit me. I bit him back on his diapered derriere and consequently lost my first tooth.
February, 1958: Snow balls. I was paddled for throwing a single snowball during noon recess at Morenci Elementary School. The whole mess could have been avoided had I simply kept my mouth shut. Attitude toward authority figures has suffered ever since.
July, 1960: Attempted larceny. Bobby Ackland and I were checking for loose bottles in the pop dispenser at Meech’s Pharmacy. We figured if there were a loose one, it was ours. We weren’t regular beverage buyers at Meech’s and little did we know that all the bottles were intentionally loose. I pulled on an RC Cola, it was suddenly in my hand. I didn’t know what to do with it, so I started walking to the door.…
March, 1965: Plagiarism. The lengthy report I wrote for general science class about continental drift contained large portions of text taken word for word from another source.
July-August, 1975: Failure to pay. I was bicycling across the Canadian Maritimes with a college buddy, John Robertson, and we very seldom paid for a camping site. The night in the burned-out house was one thing, but all those nights where we chose parks without camping or made our own site in the woods inside a campground...it was cheap living.
Sept.-May, 1975-76: Garbage picking. While working in a rural hippie school in Maine, I supplemented my dollar a day wage by eating the children’s leftover lunches. There were some great sandwiches those kids left behind.
June, 1978: Bum life. For one month I lived in a bum hotel in downtown Portland, Ore., among the more well-to-do down-and-outers who could still afford cheap housing. I was courteous, but I didn’t make any new friends.
July, 1979: Illegal camping: I slept with some friends on a Lake Michigan beach where camping was not allowed. We received citations and had to avoid any additional National Park infractions for five years.
August, 1979: Illegal swimming. I climbed the fence and swam at night in the MSU pool.
July, 1980: Antler Dance. I was caught in Morenci’s Oak Grove Cemetery after dark by off-duty police officer Frank Cordts. I was with a college friend named David Rafferty and we were performing the Antler Dance under a streetlight just inside the main entrance. Officer Cordts probably suspected alcohol or drugs as he quickly applied the brakes. No illegal substances, no arrest. Just a couple of goof-balls.
April 1, 1987: Newspaper myth. An April Fools day. I can’t speak further of this incident. I’ll just let the National Inquirer dig this one up.