Flat
Daddy
By John Chuckman
04 September, 2006
Countercurrents.org
I
thought I knew every twist of American popular culture, but apparently
not. It is an inventive society, and war is a creative force that brings
new impulses. There's a program in the state of Maine, supported by
the fun-loving, public-relations folks of the local National Guard,
called Flat Daddy, unlike anything I've heard of before.
On first hearing the name,
I thought the program must involve a roving jazz band, perhaps one from
New Orleans, but a moment's reflection reminded me that George Bush
had assisted in removing New Orleans from atlases of the United States,
Jehovah taking care of the buildings and Bush taking care of the people.
Readers, I am sure, have
seen street hawkers in large American cities who have life-size cardboard
cut-outs of celebrities and offer to take your picture standing as though
you were with someone famous. I suspect this provided the creative spark
for Flat Daddy.
Flat Daddy involves taking
a picture of one of "the boyz" over in Iraq, enlarging it
to life-size, and mounting it on cardboard. When a family back home
goes to a pizzeria or bowling alley, perhaps even to a revival meeting,
they simply drag along Flat Daddy and position him (the pronoun it is
not used) in a prominent place among the smiling faces. More photos
are taken and sent back to Iraq and perhaps to Aunt Helen in the old
folks' home. The miracle is that everyone feels part of the family despite
the awkward inconvenience of war.
There were a few points left
unclear by the undoubtedly fresh-faced officer enthusing over the program
on the radio. Does Flat Daddy have to pay admission at the movies? Is
he included in the minimum per-head table charge at restaurants?
Probably not, but when America
goes to war, the nation's two strongest impulses tend to become a little
confused, preening patriotic feathers and making a quick buck.
You might expect an idea
like Flat Daddy to have come from Texas or the Midwest, places where
beehive hair-dos and prayer in the locker room before football games
are still in vogue. But, no, it came from Maine, which despite its reputation
for sensible, traditional values, is where, several years ago, I observed
a donut shop's gigantic, ugly over-head sign, normally given over to
two-for-one breakfast specials, challenging passing cars to "HONK
FOR THE TROOPS!"
At the same donut shop, there
was a huge display of flags in the parking lot you might have assumed
were part of the patriotic outburst, but then you noticed an attendant
approaching car windows with one fist full of flags and the other grasping
a huge wad of dollar bills. It reminded me of the man selling balloons
on a stick at the circus decades ago. Here was a celebration of invasion
as only America can do it.
What about others at the
casino or sports bar who have their views blocked by Flat Daddy? The
program is new, and this potential kink may not have been worked out
yet, but I can't see it becoming a problem. Quibbling about something
like a life-size cardboard cut-out of a smiling soldier in uniform slapped
down in front of you anywhere in America could well be hazardous for
your health.
You might wonder why there
isn't also a Flat Mommy or Flat Sissy program, and I wondered about
this myself, but many parts of America have not got past the idea that
it's "the boyz" who go abroad. Never mind that White House
crap about women in Iraq. In much of the U.S., the standard for female
etiquette was set when Eisenhower was president.
I discovered on the Internet
that people in Iraq know this program, perhaps learning about it from
the drawling chit-chat between laughter and machine-gun bursts at American
check points. Iraqis apparently have started their own version, necessarily
rather low-tech in view of the lack of electricity and running water
in so many places. After allowing the sun to bake them for a reasonable
time, the bodies of Iraqi men crushed by American tanks or flattened
by 500-pound bombs are gently peeled from the pavement. They are lovingly
brought to what remains of the family home and propped against a wall
in the basement bomb shelter, an important family-gathering place in
George Bush's Iraq.