"I Now Pronounce You....Out of Harm's Way...."

Happy times for the Bush family this weekend.

Jenna is getting married.

One of the wits here at the music factory told me this morning that they were going and that my invitation must have “gotten lost in the mail.”

Ar-ar.

Actually, I never expected to get an invitation.
First of all, the Bushes don’t know me from Adam.

Or Eve, for that matter.

But, if they did, I probably blew the chance for attending the nuptials by constantly referring to the twins on the air with my personal favorite (cause I wrote it) sobriquet.

Jenna and Tequila.

Snide references aside, I really do wish the young couple a long and happy life together.
Lord knows, I do enjoy seeing someone, anyone, succeed at a long term relationship.

We always want for others what we cant have for ourselves, I’m thinking.

And the odds are in the young couple’s favor, if for no other reason, the young groom has a good chance of living for a long time to come.

Here, from CNN.com, is a little bio blurb on the kid.

Jenna is marrying Henry Hager, a 30-year-old native of Richmond, Virginia, who once worked for Karl Rove, her father's former deputy chief of staff. Hager is the son of tobacco executive John Hager, chairman of the Virginia Republican Party and a former lieutenant governor.

So, my guess is that Henry and Jenna will start out their lives together with a nice bank account, a pretty extensive network of friends, not to mention business associates and a couple of pedigrees that will take them a long way in life.

And, given his age, I assume young Mr. Hager won’t have to worry about any health issues in particular.

Like heart disease.
Or cancer.

And given his background, I assume young Mr. Hagar wont have to worry about that other health issue.

Getting killed in Iraq.

Because I’m guessing that this is one young Republican who will never see the inside of a Humvee.

Unless it’s the shiny one he drives off the dealer’s lot.

As opposed, of course, to those young folks who are being shipped over there.

Over and over.

Like your daughter.
Or your son.

Or mine.