Crimes and Misdemeanors

Apparently Governor Mark Sanford has been involved in some pretty sketchy activities of late. I guess we could all play the part of the offended prig and condemn the poor fellow for some or all of the high and low crimes our wandering governor has been accused of. After all, he has tarnished himself and the high office he holds; he has betrayed his wife of twenty years, not to mention his four sons. And what about the people of South Carolina? No, this governor has earned the almost universal scorn being heaped upon him by commentators everywhere.

Well, I am not going to try to add too much weight to the suffering the governor has been experiencing of late, but I do have a major bone to pick with Mr. Sanford. You see, I am a hiker of the Appalachian Trail and for years now I have been telling my wife, my children and my friends that I am off for another long hike in the woods and the mountains. Yes, and worse, I would come back with tales of storms and bears and creeping things in the night and everyone would listen intently as they learned of my trail heroics. Better yet, they would envy my fierce determination and bravery as I forged ahead toward the lofty goal of getting to Mt. Katahdin, the trail’s terminus in north central Maine.

Thanks to our Lothario governor, though, the hiking population of America has now been consigned to sleeping in their tents in the backyard under the watchful and suspicious eyes of their wives and family. The men of America have lost their campfire bonding moments forever because the smitten governor decided to use the Trail as cover for his real trip to Argentina to see his darling Maria. For this reason alone our dear governor has earned a certain degree of my bitter contempt.

But while his offense against hikers is bad, his love letters to his South American bombshell are even worse.

Didn’t he realize that his saccharin prose, now available for all to see, represents a crime against everything that is true, noble and lovely and that every Romeo out there now has been left bereft by his florid prose? He certainly tried hard enough to match his words to the object of his not so secret ardor, but unfortunately, as he attempted poetic flight, the whole sorry linguistic contraption fell fatally to earth with a fearsome thud:

“You have a particular grace and calm that I adore. You have a level of sophistication that so fitting with your beauty. I could digress and say that you have the ability to give magnificent gentle kisses, or that I love your tan lines or that I love the curve of your hips, the erotic beauty of you holding yourself… in the faded glow of the night's light - but hey, that would be going into sexual details ...(W)hile all the things above are all too true - at the same time we are in a hopelessly - or as you put it impossible - or how about combine and simply say hopelessly impossible situation of love…. I also suspect I feel a little vulnerable because this is ground I have never…covered before - so if you have pearls of wisdom on how we figure all this out please let me know... In the meantime please sleep soundly knowing that despite the best efforts of my head my heart cries out for you, your voice, your body, the touch of your lips, the touch of your finger tips and an even deeper connection to your soul."

It boils down to this: Here we have the star crossed governor bleating over the age old dilemma of having your cake and eating it too.

Mark Sanford: Have you no shame! You stand guilty of the crime of mauling the English language. Perhaps you should resign now before you kill another word or ruin another hiker!