Today we’re going to talk about Ronald Reagan since that seems to be the trendy thing to do these days. Doesn’t anybody want to talk about Mr. T anymore?

But before we get down to some serious socio-political “stuff,” I think it’s only fair that I fire off some inside jokes to balance the scales.

Toast. Spring break in Kenya! Now wait a second. Licorice? That’s absolutely correct, Chet. You call yourself a journalist? Corn dog. Why don’t you kill them? Nutty.

I amuse myself so much. Ha, ha—wheeee! I like to think I have a tremendous ego.

Back to President Reagan. I’m going to go way out on a limb and say that I’m backing him all the way in this whole Iran arms thing. You have to realize that I’m one of those “My country—right or wrong” types. But I have deeper reasons for supporting the president.

NOTE: I don’t call him “Ronnie” or something equally condescending.

Let’s begin by examining the way most people look at the presidency. To borrow from William “Boom-boom” Shakespeare, to most Americans, a president by any other name is still as inanimate.

The name may be Carter, Reagan or Cleveland, but that doesn’t fford them humanity. They are presidents. They’re not supposed to lose their checkbooks.

It’s true that we see Reagan riding horses and walking on beaches. We saw Carter collapse while jogging and Ford tumble down an airplane ramp. And, of course, we still have pictures of John Kennedy throwing John Jr. up in the air and dropping him on his head.

But the public sees these things as “posing” for the “cameras.” We’ve all seen pictures of LBJ showing off his scar. Millions barfed.

Behind the scenes, people picture the president working 12-hour days, eating his lunch over reports from government agencies and doing isometric exercises while signing bills because he’s so cramped for time.

The average American thinks the presidential itinerary is written in invisible ink on the original Constitution and goes something like this:

5 a.m.—wake, shower, dress, eat. 5:05 a.m.—meet with advisers. 7 a.m. to 3 p.m.—perform many vital presidential duties. 3 p.m. to 6 p.m.—drive to the Capitol and strike deals with congresspersons. 6 p.m. to 9 p.m.—have many intimate conversations with world leaders. 9 p.m.—undress, shower, kiss first lady. 9:05 p.m.—fall completely asleep.

Notice that no time is allowed for “All My Children” or David Letterman.

The way I see it, President Reagan is a man. One man performing a job some of our founding fathers thought might be better off performed by two persons. Reagan delegates his authority out of need—need to keep the country running and need to take an Andy Griffith break now and then.

I picture Reagan putting in his hours like the rest of working America, then going to the living quarters to watch Dan Rather over a tin of Hungry Man Double Portions. After dinner, I’ll bet the president invites George Bush, Tip O’Neil and Ted Kennedy over to watch a basketball game over a couple of cold ones. That’s beer.

After the game, I picture Reagan and the boys doing Michael Jordan imitations on a Nerf Hoop. Once Nancy kicks the boys out, I imagine the first couple likes to sit down and argue about what they’re doing next weekend. I mean, how many times can you go to Camp David, anyway?

When the Reagans lay down in bed to watch Letterman, I’ll bet they make fun of Paul Schaffer. “Oh, David, what a show, big show tonight, Dave.” Shut up.

So here’s this Iran thing. I can see Reagan sitting in a tent with the Ayahtollah saying “Hey, hey, hey—lookie here! Surface-to-air missiles! But wait—you also get a complete set of steak knives!” Doubtful.

Who hasn’t been caught with their hand in the cookie jar? Check your own oil before you start taking off on the president.

Note to left-wing types: I don’t read hate mail.