Ukraine needs an Icky Frye.
Icky is a long-haired refugee from an earlier era. He repairs computers and, as I recall, VCRs and televisions for a subsistence living. On occasion, he plays in a rock band. Other than that, he is the most colorful character running for governor of my home state, West Virginia.
His claim to fame, and original reason for plunging into the political muck, was that the current governor, Bob Wise, admitted fooling around -- that's the colloquial for fornicating -- with the former Mrs. Icky Frye before she was the former Mrs. Icky Frye.
Icky, being somewhat of computer whiz —along with playing a mean bass guitar — happened to come across some tell-tell emails that whizzed lovingly back and forth between Governor Bob and his wife (that's Icky's lady), a state employee.
Understandably, he was upset, big-time, and the matter landed in the press, though the governor has never actually mentioned his amorous co-conspirator by name. The news media did, however.
The particulars are these: It caused even more of a sensation than the already millionaire West Virginian who won the multi-million dollar powerball lottery and the indestructible but still vulnerable Pvt. Jessica Lynch, of Palestine, WV, the lady who fell unconscious and woke up a reluctant hero of the Iraqi war.
Before West Virginia's 1.8 million folks could get a proper laugh — sexual irony being the mother of something — the contrite governor confessed all his sins to the public, and pulled out of the competition for a second term, something no governor had done since second terms were invented 30 years ago.
Having tossed his John Deere cap in the ring, Icky was left without a villain. It was as if his one, glorious defining moment was defined for him by the person he least liked, a former umpteen term congressman and governor who apparently had played smacky-face and other things with his wife.
It seems, when one puts these things into historical context, Governor Bob not only had done the right thing, he had done it with a certain class. He didn't even blame his dalliance on strong drink getting the better of him, the most typical cop-out for straying American politicians.
Wise didn't even talk about what the definition of "is" is. He came out said he did the dirty (though not those words), had wronged his wife and children, and he wasn't running for governor. So much for Bill Clinton's smarmy technique of "telling the truth, slowly" during those newsy Monica Lewinsky days.
Asked if he were still going to run for governor, Icky, obviously caught up in instant celebrityhood, blushed that he was in it the race to stay. And, who knows, the cast of characters who will probably run against him are political hacks and has-beens who have seen the state tilt between recession and semi-depression. All have shared an oar as the state paddled over the economic waterfall.
So why not Icky. After all, look at the cast of characters running for governor of California: The Terminator, a pint-sized former child actor, a porn star, the maker of porn movies and magazines, and a cast of 100 others. My view, though, is that Icky's considerable talents will be wasted in West Virginia.
We need Icky in Ukraine, but since — and this is only my guess — Icky has not strayed much further from his roots than Cleveland — it is doubtful we have a ghost of a chance of enticing him across the pond. We simply need someone like an Icky.
We need someone who can repair a VCR and a computer. Forget the current cast of characters, that patrician looking lot with their swept back hair and Roman senatorial countenance (well, with the possible exception of the Communist fellow). We need a common man.
To wit, I suggest a means test to determine if someone is even qualified to run for the high office of President of Ukraine, and have jotted down these five very practical questions:
1. Can the candidate operate a fully engaged chain saw in one hand while lifting a sudsy brew with the other?
2. Can the candidate fix a leaky toilet — while sitting on it?
3. Can the candidate name at least two of the top five performers in the World Wrestling Federation?
4. Can the candidate actually drive his own car, safely, stopping for little old ladies in crosswalks, instead of having the chauffeur run them over.
5. Can the candidate siphon gas from a car by sucking on a hose stuck in the tank.
And, for bonus points,
6. Does the candidate get all teary when he hears Elvis Presley sing: "My Old Dog Shep." (The correct answer should be "yes".)
Okay, I admit, the test is totally sexist. So, the lone question for women candidates: "Can the candidate put on lipstick while driving along a Ukrainian highway, and simultaneously remove curlers out of her hair.
If the current crop of Ukrainians come up short on the above very practical test, then we need to send for our boy Icky from West "By God" Virginia.
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