"A Little Decorum Please"
“A Little Decorum Please”
By Rob Brink
This is another piece grad school. Written in May of 2000. I can't remember for the life of me what class it was for, but I am leaning towards Fiction Seminar 2. I think I was instructed to creatively write about a historic event. I found it slightly amusing (and dysfunctional) that a guy like Budd Dwyer would steal lots of money while holding a position in political office then decide to shoot himself in the face on national television. So I wrote about it. Not sure what grade I got either, but I graduated, so it couldn't have been too poor. It might benefit you to watch the video of Mr. Dwyer getting crazy, this way you know what inspired me to research the event and ultimately write this story.
- R. Budd Dwyer was the State Treasurer of Pennsylvania in the 1980's. After accusations and conviction of a corruption scandal, Dwyer called a press conference the day before his impeachment. On January 22, 1987—at the press conference, live on television and radio, Dwyer committed suicide. After Dwyer went down from a gunshot wound, amidst all the commotion and panic, Dwyer's personal aid stepped up to the microphone and asked the panicked onlookers to show...
“A Little Decorum Please”
It was just another Thursday where, across the country, most were going about their usual business—getting to bed late after a few too many drinks. Two scrambled eggs, toast, and a cup of coffee. Shower, shave, and get dressed for work. Get the kids ready for school. Sit in traffic. Read the morning paper. Sleep late. Clean the house and don't suspect that anything unusual will happen on such a typical Thursday.
Just another Thursday when good-byes were said to wife and children before leaving for work. Just another Thursday where a just another press conference was called for in Harrisburg. Just another Thursday where a few came to offer their support, while most others came for a photograph, a statement or two, and for ratings. It was just another Thursday when a red and brown striped tie didn't quite match a navy blazer and gray slacks. Just another Thursday where silvery, thinning hair, a double chin, and a hint of nervous uncertainty made forty-seven look like seventy.
It was just a Thursday when another cigarette was extinguished before standing in front of the crowd. Another Thursday where beads of sweat and a face red from frustration didn't come as such a surprise. Just another Thursday where eyes, bloodshot red and glazed over seemed like the result of the bombardment of camera flashes. Just another Thursday where disrupted sentences, an occasional stutter and a slight lack of coherence seemed like just another justification of guilt. It was just another Thursday where Justice was being done.
It was just another Thursday that would have come and gone until you showed them all that it was the Thursday you were going to go way beyond the usual business. The Thursday where you said your last good-byes to the wife and kids before leaving for work. The Thursday when your wife would wipe her crimson lipstick from your cheek with her thumb after she kissed you goodbye - for the last time. The Thursday that was surely the last Thursday you would trip over the kid's toys on the way out the door. It was the Thursday when you had your last cigarette, to soothe anxious nerves, in a non-smoking conference room. The Thursday where you did not even notice whether or not your red striped tie matched the gray slacks and navy blazer. It was the Thursday where you were more certain than you had ever been in forty-seven, and the Thursday where you accepted that seventy would never come.
It was the Thursday where you would not resign from office; rather, you would hold your title until the very end. The Thursday when you proved that those sons of bitches would never get fifty-five or three hundred thousand from you. It was the Thursday where once more you declared your innocence, your love for this land, your faith in God, and a disappointing loss of faith in the system that was against you.
It was the Thursday where, strangely, you apologized for supporting the death penalty, before strangely handing out neatly sealed envelopes to your peers. It was the Thursday when you recommended a replacement for your duties before reaching into a large manila envelope to remove your future.
It was the Thursday where you would not go out like all the others accused of bribery, conspiracy, racketeering and fraud. The Thursday where you would finally give them what they want. They would have a story. They would have photographs. They would have video. They would have ratings. There would be headlines and special reports. Another small miracle of suffering to sell one more edition, to keep people from touching that dial, to put ratings on the board, and more money in the pockets of people who don't really care about Thursday. There would be something to break the uncomfortable silence at the
bus stop, in the elevator, or at the dinner table. Something to talk about in the office. Something to hold them over until the next tragedy comfortable enough to talk about, because it didn't happen to them.
It was the Thursday when you politely asked them to leave the room if it would offend anyone. It was the Thursday when you warned them to stay away because it could hurt someone. It was the Thursday when they tried to stop you before you did what was right. It was the Thursday when even the discharge of three-fifty-seven in your mouth in front of millions did not stop the flashes from snapping, the tape from rolling, the grapevine from winding, the politicians from lying, cheating, stealing, and more Thursdays from coming.
(3) responses to: "A Little Decorum Please"
strange bird found in new zealand said:
nice. Definitely watch the video AFTER you read it... (my suggestion)... blood gushing is better in your head then on Quick Time Player...
Rodney said:
R. Budd Dwyer was an innocent victim of the corrupted political system that we call, Democracy. Dwyer was played like a puppet into a trap. I firmly believe that had he actually been given a defense at his trial, and had the jury and the judge, and even Dwyer's attorney not been bought off by crooked politicians, then Dwyer would have been found innocent of all the trumped up charges which were brought against him. Unfortunately, Dwyer was never given that chance. His suicide on January 22nd, 1987 in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania on live, national television was his way of showing to the world that he was, in fact, innocent.
This paper was well written and is an excellent account of a horrible event in American Politics.
dannyo said:
i do have to say: a gorgeous little piece of literature that will probably be read by too few. regardless of political standpoint. regardless of religious belief. regardless of any basis of moralistic conviction. true objectivity is the most onerous aspect of writing. an intelligent read. what part do you play in this symphony called american politics?
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