I found the books of P.J. O’Rourke by accident.
Always a fan of darkly sarcastic and rebellious minds, I was overjoyed to find such subversive wit and, underneath it all, so much substance.
I believe my first experience with P.J. was Holidays in Hell and it remains my favourite of his books.
When P.J. travels, he does it right…
Seemingly perpetually bombed on whatever local hooch was provided in whichever country he found himself in, he still managed to create lucid accounts of third world strife and absurdity, as well as diverting accounts of ghastly eastern bloc architecture and depressing night life.
After reading Holidays in Hell for the first time, I was fully bewitched… just the sight of his face on the cover would make me smile!
In my humble opinion, any guy who would shamelessly declare that he discovered that all people are the same, regardless of race or geographical location, via “sleeping around”, should be declared a national treasure.
I delved further into his literary world and it felt like a trip to Disneyland… Disneyland when you’re a child, rather than a parent who is saddled with a diaper bag and mounting credit card debt.
Next, I found an old copy of The Bachelor Home Companion and I could not believe my own good fortune! It was hilarious from start to finish! It was so funny that my father also read it with tangible enjoyment!
P.J. crossed our generational divide due to his peerless wit and his immeasurable joie de vivre..
In particular, P.J.’s bachelor menu plan (Wednesday breakfast: Special K in mouthwash; Sunday dinner: cookies and water) was hysterical. I thought The Bachelor Home Companion was adorable, acerbic and endearing and I treasured the slim, royal blue volume as though it were made of gold.
What could be better than a guy who made you laugh so hard? A guy who made you think so hard! P.J. had it all.
I Needed to Get Real
And then there is the issue of politics… eventually, P.J. worked his magic there, too.
Never inclined to gullibility or blind faith, I was still a product of 80s thinking.
For example, the backlash against Reagonomics, not to mention the threat of nuclear oblivion (which was so masterfully captured in MTV videos such as Ultravox’s Dancing With Tears In My Eyes and Frankie Goes to Hollywood’s Two Tribes, et cetera), produced in my collegiate, wannabe-alternative psyche the mindset of a liberal softie who really never stopped to think i.e. question my own point of view.
With the help of P.J., I started to gain a deeper understanding of the harsher realities of life. This type of understanding typically arrives as a result of age, experience and wisdom.
Some homeless people really are shiftless, I would find myself thinking, very guiltily. Not all, but some. “Maybe they don’t deserve such a cushy social safety net”, I would muse, silently and almost appalled, as though I had practised blasphemy.
I started to see the drains on the system from the other side…the vast amount of money taken away from ordinary people who work hard in order to provide for those who don’t. I began to feel strongly about private property, about self-determination in life…
Politically, I began to veer wildly. I was changing lanes. I drifted over the median into Conservatism without it really registering at first. He only crystallized the thoughts that would have come anyway as I grew into adulthood and looked at the world with a more jaded gaze. However, it was important for me to hear a voice from the other side, in order to balance out all the Liberal thought I had embraced so eagerly, even thoughtlessly.
In addition, I started to like chinos, loafers, and navy-blue blazers. Who knew preppy and uptight could be so sexy!
I thought about how cool P.J. was every couple of weeks, at least. I read more of his books and articles and the attraction never faded.
I'm not a right-wing extremist or a Libertarian now (I am Canadian, after all, and we don’t really do that), but I at least have developed the logic to listen to the other side of the political story. When you don’t listen and you don’t stop to think, the picture is always incomplete.
Before P.J., my heart bled for every crackhead who held out an unwashed hand for a bit of spare change. I felt sorry for everyone, except serial killers. It was a hardening that was necessary and I thank P.J. for the wake-up call. Despite this, I must confess that I still give the homeless money on an almost-daily basis and sometimes leave sandwiches for them, in the dead of night, as they slumber in my local park.
In the end, I'm a Liberal and I will die a Liberal.
However, now and then, his thinking makes so much sense.
Some girls like rock stars… some girls like actors or major league baseball players. I just heart P.J., wishing I could be the lucky girl who clips his cigar in some exotic den of vice. I wish I were the girl who could sit and listen to all of that humour and brilliance, without having to download yet another podcast from Bill Maher’s program.
A man should be funny and a man should be whip-smart. When these vital qualities are in short supply, I lose interest fast. Mr O'Rourke has both qualities in incredible abundance.
Angelina Jolie might like frolicking on a beach in Africa with hunky Brad Pitt, but I think she would be better off with an ageing, hard-drinking guy from Ohio, (descended from used-car salesmen!) who could show her the other side of the political equation.
Don’t you?
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