A Shoe In

Lately the term, “he threw a shoe” is taking on a whole new meaning. Instead of a sleek Saddlebred leaving a horse shoe by the roadside, we’re seeing Nikes and Birkenstocks parting the ozone like the Gulf Stream. Talk about your Air Jordans.

Ever since that foreign sounding guy (if all their middles names are Al, why do they bother with middle names at all? Just go by initials and save yourself some confusion.) lobbed a loafer at George Bush a while back, shoe wars have become more popular than Star Wars. (Imagine Condoleeza Rice in white robes with a hot cross bun hairdo peering at a black-clad Vladimir Putin. “The tighter your grasp, the more stilletos will slip through your fingers.” Then he launches a Manolo Sputnik and gives her a bad hair day to set an example.)

Just today I read that in India these days there are so many shoe launches, they’re hiring air-traffic controllers by the bootload to keep up. Personally, there are a lot of things I’d be tempted to throw at today’s politicians, but my new black leather pumps that make me tall enough to see eye to eye with the wretch who jammed the office copier are staying right here with me. And I’d sooner launch my Hannah Montana wristwatch with the guitar-shaped second hand before I would toss a pair of Reeboks that I had to pay $75 for even on sale.

While we’re at it, we must also consider whether we have to change missiles with the season. In the future will it be considered unseemly to throw white shoes after Labor Day or patent leathers on Spring Break? If I toss a mid-winter strappy sandal will I be held accountable by the press? I think instead of shoes, I’d rather fling the buttons off my blazer. You get more bullets for the buck and that stupid jacket is two Ding Dongs and a Moon Pie past fastening anyway.

I understand that in Mr. Al’s culture, the sole of the shoe is considered the ultimate in cross-the-line insults. But doesn’t it seem as if it would make more of a stinging jab to insult someone in a way they would recognize as offensive? I’ve had to dodge worse projectiles than a low flying Grasshopper when I broke up random skirmishes between “Did Not” and “Did Too” back at the house, and it didn’t even take my mind off what to do with the chicken for supper. If that journalist really wanted to get George W’s attention he should have hopped right up and announced, “Laura has fat ankles and the twins look like Dan Quayle.” Now that would have caused a Texas-style Hoedown.

But why can’t we express our opinions in a more dignified manner? What happened to the days when you simply left an offender off the guest list for your next party? That’s what Samantha did to Lindsey Lohan, who immediately set-to with wailing and gnashing of teeth across the pages of important journalistic endeavors like In Touch magazine and the National Enquirer. There’s just something about getting left out of a party that leaves a lasting impression. Tread marks on your forehead may come and go but a social slight is forever.

Besides, isn’t it nice to be the better person instead of getting involved in a mass sneaker rebellion? Your picture on the front page of the paper sitting coyly in a garden party chair with a plate full of dinner mints and petite fours, your ankles crossed and both shoes on your feet in proper order is going to win more support than the one showing you with a grimace and one armed cocked back in preparation of hurling half a pair of Converse All Stars. Think of all the pictures you’ve ever seen of a baseball pitcher in mid throw. Kind of makes you think of someone in need of a good roto-rootering, doesn’t it? When you finally get your picture on Time Magazine or Martha Stewart Living, you don’t want to look like the middle reliever for the Braves or the guy in the Pepto Bismol ads.

So, let’s all agree to take a civilized stance and show these politicians how to behave. If they can’t act in a manner benefitting a world leader and get down to the business of world peace, we won’t chuck Chucks. We just won’t invite them to our next election.

Let them act like the part of the horse that doesn’t need shoes to begin with. We'll win in the home stretch.