Politics
This is the kind of political writing I can relate to: Bugs and Daffy represent polar opposites in how to deal with the world. Bugs is at ease, laid back, secure, confident. His lidded eyes and sly smile suggest a sense that he knows the way things work. He's onto the cons of his adversaries. Sometimes he is glimpsed with his elbow on the fireplace mantel of his remarkably well-appointed lair, clad in a smoking jacket. Bugs never raises his voice, never flails at his opponents or at the world. He is rarely an aggressor. When he is pushed too far and must respond, he borrows a quip from Groucho Marx: "Of course, you realize this means war." And then, whether his foe is hapless hunter Elmer Fudd, varmint-shooting Yosemite Sam, or a raging bull, Bugs always prevails.One of the few really reliable rules of presidential political warfare [is]: Bugs Bunny always beats Daffy Duck.
Pretty true, that.
In every modern presidential election in which the candidates have personified a clear choice between Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck, Bugs has prevailed. Go back to 1960, the first campaign in which television was the clear dominant medium. John "Bugs" Kennedy was cool, restrained, ironic. Richard "Daffy" Nixon was brooding, suspicious, scowling. Look at 1980, when Ronald Reagan's sunny approach to the campaign and to the world stood in sharp contrast to President Jimmy Carter's talk of a crisis of the spirit. Or think about 2000, when George W. Bush suggested a candidate who could easily live with defeat, as opposed to Al Gore, who seemed wound far tighter.
"What's up, Doc?" vs. "You're despicable!"
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