I get it, yet I don't. It's the closest thing we have to a coronation. And coronations are the closest you can come to becoming godlike, I suppose. So we are trying to impart some measure of immortality on our Presidents and such. Hey, don't get me wrong, I'm the last person within a thousand mile radius to complain about a party-- I'm usually throwing them.1 But shouldn't a down-home albeit rich boy from Tejas, or any other American Prez for that matter, really consider just chilling with the pomp and pay more attention to the circumstance? Gimme a guy who takes the oath of office at his desk, in a cubicle no less, over a box of Krispy Kremes, phone ringing off the hook, maybe one of those Derrick Jeter bobbble-heads on his monitor, blowing powdered sugar off his keyboard as the Chief Justice says, 'solemly swear to uphold the office...' and then everyone meets up for lunch at TGI Friday's. But not off the 'quick lunch' menu. That's going too far in the other direction.
1. Last summer's live music bash here resulted in no arrests, despite reports in the local paper. I have it on good and sound authority the editor is jealous of my 2 a.m. renditions of 'Wooly Bully' and world reknowned single-malt drinking fountain. Besides, having the chief of police on bass guitar didn't hurt either.