"Come here, woman," it almost screams. "We're still hot for each other, ain't we, baby?"
As the old show tune goes: "A kiss on the lips might be so sentimental, but a butt rub warms a girl's round end."
Such outward displays of affection for one's spouse speak loudly about keeping the lust life alive in marriage, and the loudest new loudspeaker on the vital matter may be our new president. We haven't had a hot, heavy and handy relationship in the White House for decades. OK, Bill Clinton might have grabbed Hillary's hindquarters a few times during his reign, but only if he mistook her from behind for another woman.
So while many of us may have been put off by some of our new president's appeals to the hard right early in his tenure, he seems like a man who can still appreciate some of the good things in life, specifically his wife. And while I have taken some heat in letters to the editor recently for making some fun of Mrs. Bush's sustained silent sunniness, I never said she wasn't an attractive woman carrying junk in her trunk her man could hitch onto. And that's a good thing.
Think about how much better this world might be if there was more tush grabbing/patting between spouses. Think about all the out-and-out love. No group could benefit more from this hands-on approach than Bush's friends in the religious right. Say, for example, after another fire, fairy and brimstone sermon by the Right Rev. Rolf R. Righteous this Sunday, husbands and wives came out of the sanctuary and grabbed each other on their respective backside protuberances. They would soon be way too busy with each other to worry about other people's private business, and the country would be better off.
And think about grabbing some world rear piece. If Israel's Ariel Sharon, Palestine's Yasser Arafat and Libya's Moammar Gadhafi were allowed to emerge from piece talks every few hours to get a little frisky around the flanks with their spouses, lasting Middle East peace could come within days.
I feel strongly about the direction that George W. Bush is taking us as the leader of the free world, a direction of latching onto the little woman's booty to promote love and peace and tail tag.
I come by affection for fanny feeling fandom naturally. Long after I was an adult, long after my mom and dad had about as many friendly relations as Libya and Israel, my mom would sometimes stroll by and Ol' Pop would swat on the tail. Mom never seem fazed.
Still, I was baffled about how my parents ever hooked up, considering their considerable differences. I once asked Pop what the attraction was between himself and my mom, what brought them together for a life of raising pure and sweet children such as your columnist
"Well, Tiger," he said as he remembered innocent young love with what appeared to be tears welling in his eyes, "your mother had an aspiration (he used the shorter form of the noun) on her that, if you put a glass of water on top of it and she walked across the room, she wouldn't spill a drop. The only other woman I saw in person who had one like that was Doris Day, and she wasn't interested in me."
So the Kofford men for generations have appreciated grabbing a good caboose. It's in our warm Scandinavian blood, dating back to the Viking days of Lars reaching for the back of Helga's tight reindeer-skin frock and giving her a little squeeze of the Danish.
My spouse has learned over the years to quickly tie up my hands when we are in public, particularly when we are around the high school where she is vice principal. She has learned from experience that my show of continuing affection for my lovely wife often goes straight for the end zone.
So, apparently, does that of George W. Bush, which makes me have more faith in him than I would otherwise. While he may be reaching for the hard right, he also is massaging the soft left and the solid middle. And that means his mind is on a good place.