I’m just saying he’s fucking immortal and we owe him a term:
Jimmy Carter sat in his Plains home this week, tired but thankful.
Five months after breaking his hip, he had just finished up a tough session with his physical therapist. “She pushes me almost to the limit every time I have physical therapy, which is twice a week,” Carter said. “… I encourage her to give me all I can take.”
And he’s somehow managed to avoid that Old Man Thing where he’s threatened by Kids Today and/or thinks they’re useless layabouts who just text all the time:
Thunberg and young activists “are tackling the right project and going about it very effectively,” Carter said. “It was exciting to me and inspirational. The project in which they are working is worthwhile for all adults to adopt. I am sorry that Republicans have not adopted global warming as one of their challenges.”
I mean, for his birthday “all” he has planned are a half-dozen neighborhood keggers, nothing really wild:
Preparing the gear for an early morning fishing trip, Chip Carter says he feels lucky to have both parents around and to see his father mark another milestone birthday.
The former president has nothing spectacular planned.
“My goal is to stay home with my wife and have a few local birthday parties around Plains,” Carter said. “Nothing extraordinary or grandiose.”
I’m 44 and if I go to two events in one night I need to be put to bed with an Alka-Seltzer, meanwhile Jimmy’s out here all “COME ON YOU PUSSIES, LET’S HIT ONE MORE BAR.”
This is the big presidential energy we need right now.
A.