he death of former president Ronald Reagan was followed by a week-long awkwardness as non-conservatives, especially the left-leaning and liberal-slanted individuals across the nation, searched for something socially acceptable to say about the late Californian.

The normal mixed feelings of seeing a longtime political adversary take a dirt nap were compounded by the unrelenting, merciless coverage of sunny-side up Reagan throughout the week since his death on June 5. For liberals, who had previously been pouring on the rancor against two-dimensional Reaganite George W. Bush and his re-election campaign, the "sudden" death of the 93-year-old ex-president and conservative icon created an uncomfortable air for expressing their views of the modern political climate, and the right-wing politics inherited from Reagan’s administration.

Daniel Kirkland, a talk show on the left-wing radio network Air America, summed up the difficulty of liberal commentary in the past week.

"You hate to see anybody die, regardless of their politics," said Kirkland, "but if Muhammad Ali died, and everyone was going around pretending he won every boxing match when he stepped into the ring, you’d start to feel the urge to remind everyone about the losses. Why does someone have to all of a sudden be perfect just because they died?"

Even the usual safe-havens for liberal free speech have felt the pressure to be nice during the funeral hoopla, and the pressure has begun to show.

"You’d think God himself died," grumbled Tina Crowley, a Green Party campaign organizer in Trenton, New Jersey. "Nobody here has even wanted to talk about politics all this week. And we’re the friggin’ Green Party. Some people were even saying some nice things about Reagan here, it was enough to drive you batshit. Like ’Maybe James Watt didn’t intend to do all that environmental damage.’ Yeah, that’s possible."

Professor of Sociology Deatria Lumley experienced the same difficulties with the ex-president’s death.

"Separating a man from his work is easy outside politics, but becomes all the more impossible when that man was a president," said Lumley. "He may have been a nice guy in his private life, but as someone who works with deteriorating underclasses and witnessing first hand the cuts to social programs and the damage it does, myself and people in my profession find it difficult to conform to social expectations of funeral etiquette."

Adding her own thoughts on Reagan, Lumley complimented him, "The man didn’t blow us up, no matter how close we might have come. It keeps me up at night thinking about just how close."

Other liberal mourners included public defender Jacob Howitzer: "He always gave us a lot of laughs. Not directly, or at least I guess he didn’t realize it was funny. Phil Hartman, he did a cool Reagan impression on Saturday Night Live." Howitzer added: "I miss him, I really do. Hartman was a genius."

Another mourner, leaflet distributor Bryan Forbes: "He had nice hair."

Folk concert organizer and self-described "Earth Mother" Loretta Melbourne: "Fuck it. He was a prick. Call me a cold bitch, I just plain didn’t like him."

he public fellatio of former president Ronald Reagan's dead body reached a fever pitch this week when a consortium of white-as-the-the-Klan conservatives launched a plan to have the dead man's grim visage stamped on the U.S. $10 bill. Though the actual image on the bill would likely be of the former president while he was still alive, the group has not yet determined whether or not the likeness will be one of the nostalgic collectable-plate paintings depicting Reagan devouring the poor that are commonly found in the china hutches of Republican households across America.

"The time has come to honor this great, great American," wheezed congressional peckerwood Mitch McConnell of Kentucky, uncomfortably choking back either bland white-boy tears or some kind of grossly over-sated flatulent belch. "He was like a father to me, or at least I wish he had been. Ronniiiie! Ronniiiiie!"

"Reagan would have been a cool dad," drooled local fanboy Ralph Huxley. "I mean, his own kids didn't think so, but what the hell do they know? They're probably Democrats or something. Reagan should've tossed them in the commie box with all the other pinkos back when he had the chance."

Meanwhile, Alexander Hamilton fans have staged protests in opposition to the plan, which would displace their $10 man from the popular currency note. These qualms come in spite of conservative promises that a new coin, the 2.3-cent "Hammy," would be minted to house the first Secretary of the Treasury's downgraded image. Irate callers swamped phone lines for the D.C.-area Alexander Hamilton fan call-in show Ham Radio to vent about what they considered to be an insulting proposal, roughly akin to being honored with one's face on the seldom-used twelve-and-a-half-cent stamp. Family members of the late Sonny Bono, current resident of the twelve-and-a-halfer's facial slot, could not be reached for comment. Not that we really tried all that hard.

If Hamilton's fans are successful in defending the object of their affection's place on the $10 bill, Reagan supporters (known alternately as "Reaganites," "Reaganauts," and "loud, self-important assholes" depending on whom you ask) have made it clear they will take the fight to other, less-protected faced currencies, starting with the dime. Should FDR's zombielike followers prove too tough a scrum for the Reaganinnies, the group's next choice is rumored to be the highly popular Chuck E. Cheese five-point token. Early accounts are unclear about whether Reagan would appear alone on the brassy gaming token, or in some kind of die-cut rendition of the former president locking the chain's rodent mascot in a playful bear hug or a bracing death-struggle for big rat supremacy.

Conservatives less enamored by shitty pizza and skeeball hope the game of commemorative musical chairs won't get that far, setting their hopes on at least landing the dime. Analysts suggest that it would be far easier to subvert the will of the people in the area of coinage, since changing a paper bill requires majority votes in both houses of Congress, while changes to coins only have to receive a vague, dismissive wave from the generally apathetic Treasury Secretary. In addition, conservatives feel that few liberals are likely to notice a change to the nation's coinage, since only children look at coins closely, and most are likely to mistake Reagan for one of the McDonaldland gang.

Supporters with an eye for compromise have sought to quell the controversy by suggesting that Reagan's face should instead grace the $1,000 bill, since few non-conservatives ever see those anyway.

This latest campaign reminds many of an ongoing effort during the 1990's to have Reagan's face added to Mount Rushmore, a battle that was eventually scrapped after it was discovered that the former president was afraid of heights.

Hey folks, and welcome back for another episode of Reflections of a Goocher, taped live before a recently-alive studio audience. We're here talking to celebrity housewife Susan Lutwidge, this year's recipient of the Lutwidge Family Prize for Drama.

SU: Good to have you here, Susan.

SL: Good to have been had here, Stu.

SU: So, is it true what I've been hearing about your recent plastic surgery?

SL: Well, if you've been hearing the truth it is.

SU: Good point.

SL: But yeah, I recently went in for Botox treatment, since my face was starting to look like Ed Asner's couch.

SU: I was going to say something.

SL: Good of you. But the thing is, when I got there I found out that Botox is extremely expensive. Go figure. Really makes you wonder about all those Vietnam vets who were paralyzed for free. So anyway, instead the doctor turned me on to Reebox treatment, which is where they inject your face with space-age sneaker rubber.

SU: It looks great.

SL: Thanks, Stu, I feel great. And it's comforting to know that the next time I fall while jogging, my face is going to bounce off the pavement like a superball.

SU: Talk about "saving face"!

SL: No shit.

SU: Okay Sue, we're low on time here so I'm afraid we're going to have to skip straight to the bonus round. Your question, for a chance to win all the tea in Denmark: Who is the tallest man ever to win the Noble Prize?

SL: Uh, Nelson Mandela? Dude's black, right?

SU: No, I'm sorry, the correct answer is Steve "The Stork" Goodgee, who won the Noble for Frisbee Golf in 1997. You may have been thinking of the lesser-known Nobel Peace Prize, which is awarded every year for outstanding achievement in the field of keeping the peace. The Noble awards those who keep it real in the face of being spanked in the nuts by a flying projectile. Thanks for playing.

We'll be right back after this commercial break.


Hey there Ricky, sorry to hear your dad got arrested again.

Yeah, my life sucks. This is the worst family vacation ever.

Come on, look at the bright side. Maybe your dad didn't do it.

Yeah, but they caught him with her jammies and everything.

You're probably right. Hey, wanna play doctor?


Holy Jehovah, we're back! And now it's time to check in with Hank Spankman and Johan Sebastian Crackersnatch, RoaG's own professional conversationalists:

HS: So, Johan, I hear you bought a bike recently.

JSC: That's a balled-in-the-face lie.

HS: Well you know what they say, there's a crayon of truth in every lie.

JSC: I always heard it was a train of vermouth in every life.

HS: That makes me very thirsty.

JSC: Me too, but I can't eat that much cheese.

HS: Chee—You know the thing about you? You're exactly like a cross between Bob Dylan and Bob Denver.

JSC: Well, you're like a cross between Bob Hope and a vacuum cleaner.

HS: I think I vacuum cleaner than you.

JSC: I vacuum naked.

HS: Do you always remember to wash behind your gears?

JSC: So we're back to the bike thing again? Okay, I'll admit it. The bike bought me.

I'm afraid that's all the time we've got this week folks, and I'm also afraid of spiders. We'll go into that some other time.

—closing theme, AKA "Can't Hug the Love Bug" by Styx—

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