Bush
Yucks It Up in Montana
By Josh Mahan

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An Airforce
serviceman encounters Bush protesters and peace activists in Great
Falls. Photo
by John
Fothergill
GREAT
FALLS, Mont. -- For only the
second time during his presidency, George W. Bush set foot on Montana
soil to speak at a good-old-boy rendezvous. The thrill of his rare
visit was
cheapened, though, because Montana
was one of five states the president would visit that day, Feb. 3, as
he touted
a privatized Social Security agenda. Shooting rhetoric and gaffes from
the hip
during his time in Great Falls,
Bush riled up a crowd of more than 5,000 ardent supporters and did his
best to
shame Montana Democrat Max Baucus on his own turf. Sources close to
Baucus told
me Bush had been nothing but trouble, originally refusing the senator
tickets
to the event, and then sticking him in the cheap seats, along with Montana’s
Democratic governor, Brian Schweitzer.
Sen. Conrad
Burns and Rep. Denny Rehberg, both Montana Republicans, opened up the
festivities. Burns called Rehberg “pencil-necked” and Rehberg recounted
a story
of Burns being hit by a few balls of shot after a hunting buddy fired a
shotgun
in his direction. It was a red-state moment, Montana’s
leaders introduce the president with redneck humor better suited for a
back-road saloon.
The
president
did his best to endear Montanans once he got on stage, by separately
talking
about cattle, cattle guards and cowboy hats at length. Bush mentioned
early on
in his speech that there were “more cowboy hats than ties” in the room.
But it
was a canned line, probably one he uses in Texas.
A glance around the Four Seasons Arena provided views of few cowboy
hats, and
record numbers of ties. In fact, one local broadcaster standing next to
me in
the press pool had earlier proclaimed, “I didn’t know there were this
many ties
in Montana. It makes me
nervous.”

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Left: A young Montanan
tells Bush what he thinks about the election.
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Cowboys
were
the talk out on the sidewalk, as well. “Stop Mad Cowboy Disease,” read
one sign
that greeted Bush as he drove into the Four Seasons Arena. “Mr. Bush
Stop
Moralizing War,” read another. Despite the overwhelming number of Bush
supporters
inside the arena, the number of peace protesters on the sidewalk
swelled to 100
at one point and left a visible mark on the day. Reports from
protesters said
that they received support from people on the street, and that
authorities were
peaceful, but there were also a few run-ins with hard-line Bush
supporters.
“Kill them
all,” said one man to the protesters as his three young boys looked on.
Later
in the day a young, redneck woman ripped a protest banner that said
“Know Your
Empire,” to the chagrin of the pacifists. Men clad in Air Force dress
uniforms
strutted past the protesters throughout the day en route to see the
president
speak.
Inside
Four
Seasons Arena there was no sign of political strife. Even though the
president
was speaking on Social Security he often strayed off-subject, for
instance when
he spent a minute encouraging the audience to exercise. He spoke at
length
about the war in Iraq
and attempted to justify the continued U.S.
occupation.
“I can’t
provide a timeline of when to pull out because the terrorists will just
wait it
out,” Bush said.
The night
also
featured the typical Bushisms that America
has become accustomed to. After a lapdog Illinois
professor delivered a short explanation of privatization’s benefits
Bush
quipped, “Reminds me of my college days, when I was awake.”
At another
point
Bush was conversing with a young, expectant couple that was on stage to
express
their Social Security concerns. Out of the blue the president muttered,
“Georgia,”
with his gaze wondering. The din of the audience quieted for a moment
as the
president nervously patted the expectant mother on the knee. It seemed
reminiscent of Reagan in the latter days of his administration.
Then, the Bush pursued a recovery with, “Georgia,
are you going to name the baby Georgia?”
“Um, no,”
said
the expectant mother.
Questions
from
the audience followed Bush’s plea to channel 4 percent of their income
to his
crony investment-banker buddies. Great Falls
pampered Bush with slow-pitch softball questions. One woman pushed the
president’s comfort zone by stating she had “several questions” about
his
proposed changes to Social Security.
“Just ask
an
easy one, it’s getting late in the day,” Bush said.
After
shucking
and jiving through her question, Bush went to a small boy who kept it
easy. “Can
I shake your hand?” he asked.
The choice
to
keep it easy seemed obvious, but was a bold move because Bush had been
baffled
earlier by a question from a young girl asking him to recite a Bible
verse. Bush
couldn’t deliver. Later, he said he didn’t understand the question.
Bush said he thought
the girl had asked him if he knew how to get to Livingston,
where she lives.
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