Anyone catch the State of the Union Address Tuesday night on channel ... everything? By now, it's yesterday's yesterday's news -- but Dubya likes the word "freedom." We've known that for years, of course, which is why I was sure the new game created by my roommate would be too perfect.
Whether it was during my ever-so brief tenure as a fraternity (de)pledge, or just while hanging around an Everglades campsite during Spring Break with no electricity, a bottle of tequila and a deck of cards, I've always been averse to being forced to drink. My own pace is fine; I don't like manufactured rowdiness.
But after hearing this Bush speech ... pass the bottle to the left one time, Mr. Speaker. "The State of the Union Drinking Game" is the stuff of Ted Kennedy's dreams.
At 10 'til eight, I went over to the 614 Rugby satellite house to get away from the multitude of distractions that is synonymous with my pad. Since all but one of the dudes living in 1410 Gordon -- better known as "The Senior House" -- were either gone or over at 614, the satellite system worked to perfection. Between the presidential speech coming on at nine, a pending deadline at midnight and the cornucopia of RELC 368 reading awaiting me after that, the last thing I was looking for was a big crowd of people in my face, messing up my chi.
But the allure of playing the S.O.T.U. game ... not even a million Lord's Prayers said on my behalf could have delivered me from the temptation.
Halfway across the country in Houston, Texas, the phone suddenly rang five minutes past 8:00 p.m., CST. Recently home from some "alone time" spent together in Mexico, my parents had not heard their son's voice in over a week. But I skipped the formal courtesies -- this game was getting crazy.
Bayless: "Mom, wanna know a way to have some serious fun?"
Louise: "Shoulda called me last week -- I could teach you a thing or two after my fun in the sun."
Bayless: "What the hell? If that's some kind of Oedipus Rex reference ... that's gross. No, Mom. What you need to do is play 'The State of the Union Drinking Game!'"
Louise: "Oh, God."
Bayless: "It's great, Mom! Any time Bush says 'democracy,' 'freedom,' 'Iraq' or 'terrorist,' you drink. The same goes for any relatives of those code words, like 'democratic,' 'free,' 'Iraqi people' or 'the terrorists.'"
My mother never realized politics could get so rowdy.
Bush haters have a proclivity for attacking his lofty Wilsonian rhetoric, but the man really does lay it on thick. You tend to notice it a lot more when playing S.O.T.U., especially when you're struggling to keep up with Dubya's rapid-fire release, armed with Coors Original -- those babies also lay it on thick ... to your esophagus.
My acid reflux already plotting against me, things really started to heat up when George turned to the Mission Still Not Accomplished portion of the speech:
"And we are on the offensive in Iraq ..." [drink] "First, we are helping Iraqis build an inclusive government..." [drink] "...helping the Iraqi government to fight corruption ..." [drink] "... so all Iraqis can experience the benefits of freedom." [drink, drink] "We are striking terrorist targets while we train Iraqi forces that are increasingly capable of defeating the enemy." [drink, drink] "Iraqis are showing their courage every day, and we are proud to be their allies in the cause of freedom" [drink, drink].
Hail to the Chief! Let's get this party started!
At 8:59, I assumed those four words would only add up to three, four beers, max. By 9:08, I had learned my lesson: Never misunderestimate George Walker Bush.
If I hadn't thrown in the towel eight minutes in, I think this colunm mayy haev raed somehting likre tihs. I quit prematurely for two reasons: 1) I was trying to be able to think coherently later. 2) The one person home, Wes, had only six Coors in his fridge.
Lesson learned No. 2: Never go into battle without enough troops -- err -- body armor -- err -- beer.
Once I withdrew from combat I called Drew, the kid who claims ownership of the game's creation, and who was cruising right along without any restrictions holding him back. He had watched the speech with a group that played by a slightly different set of rules, each drawing two words from a hat of Bushisms -- but Drew picked a hell of a pair to listen out for over the entirety of the speech.
"Bayless," he said with a noticeable slur in his voice, "my words were 'terrorist' and 'freedom.'"
You want to get young voters of America interested in politics? Drew is Exhibit A of how to accomplish your goal.
In fact, I'm trying to watch the entire speech again tonight before I go out. If anyone TiVo'd it, call me: 713-806-5770. I'll bring the beers.
My only fear is that this game could catch hold beyond the borders of this state and become the rage of all the Union. If S.O.T.U. goes national, good luck finding enough designated drivers.
After all, the state of the entire Union would be above 0.08.
Bayless' column runs biweekly on Thursdays. He may be reached at bayless@cavalierdaily.com.
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