Republican
Wipeout‹ The Movie Republican
Wipeout‹ The Movie
When I was following the Great Bartok and his Hunt Brothers Circus researching my novel Dixiana Moon, this was his banner and the one I brought home: "DO NOT BE DECEIVED BY ENVIOUS COMPETITORS! THIS IS THE REAL McCOY." I also met a canvas man who told me he was a known felon wanted in 14 states and because he had to travel the entire country he had to plan his year carefully. So what we have here is the beginning and ending for a very good story for the Democratic victory and the Republican wipeout in the Nov. 7 elections. On second thought it would make a much better movie.
As the music fades and the story opens we see the envious competitors, the Republican ideologues, gathered around President Bush's flickering fire trying to figure out what hit them and what they should do and in what direction. But their biggest, burning question, which is being whispered back and forth, is should they take Bush along or leave him sleeping by the embers while they steal away in the night.
Their ace in the hole, which they know they can fall back on, is the conductor, who, for a few coins of the realm, stops the train in the dark out in the middle of nowhere and after turning on the disembarking red light, he announces a small town of his choice, say Fargo, N.D., or Provo, Utah. Then he swings the door open and two strong men, after sliding a pint of Jack Daniels into the reluctant traveler's pocket, help him down the steps and out onto the gravel and the cross ties under the stars on his mission east or west or north or south. There's a circus name for this, it's called, "leaving them on the lot."
Beginnings and endings of movies are easy. The hard part is sustaining a middle, otherwise you're stuck with a series of mindless and endless chases. But this story is so packed with material we'll have absolutely no problem. Can't you just see disgraced lobbyist Jack Abramoff's black coat and hat sliding in and out of scene after scene after scene; backing him up we could have oboes and muted kettle drums. No need for dialogue here. Former Congressman Mark Foley could appear with his boyhood flame the priest as we segue to a dream sequence of him conducting a chorus line of pageboys shot in the Senate chamber. Sounds tacky but it would play beautifully. We would need one good scene of the right Rev. Ted Haggard's tearful interview in the front seat of his car. But only one. Outgoing House Speaker Dennis Hasstert could jowl in saying, "I don't know any of these people. Why am I here?" And we'll need all the footage of Rush Limbaugh doing his Michael J. Fox impression that we can get.
And who can forget Congressman Bob Ney's "Freedom Fries," and Karl Rove's fart jokes and Tom DeLay's never-ending greasy smile? Yes, this is going to be an absolute festival. For the ending we could have Virginia Sen. George Allen smiling his crowd smile, devoid of any humor, and laughing his crowd laugh, also devoid of any humor, and delivering his show-stopping macaca line. And Abramoff, still wearing his black hat and black coat, and still being backed up with the oboes and the kettle drums, crosses from left to right and finally speaks: "It's spelled i-d-i-o-t. You're a f#!king idiot."
The ending is too harsh so I'd use one of the Great Bartok's pronouncements on how he handled his crowds: "When I'm pitching I like to get them up on their feet. That way they can get at their wallets and have their pocketbooks ready. I can tell when they're ready because they'll start leaning in toward you, not a lot but a little. And if you listen close you can hear them, they'll be sounding like bees."
The Blue Fairy
A couple of weeks back I tried to come up with a fitting legacy for George, our friend in the White House. The best I could muster was that he be issued a 2-by-8 piece of smooth pine, a sharp sword and a clean towel. But alas, that came up short and a lot of red staters down here in the hard lard belt simply pushed their beers away and left the room.
Nothing else seemed appropriate. Then along came the British writer Harold Pinter's Nobel Prize acceptance speech, printed in The New York Times on Dec. 8. It is so perfect it's painful. Here are a few lines of outrage against our foreign policy:
Coming out of the gate Pinter said, "The crimes of the United States have been systematic, constant, vicious, remorseless, but very few people have actually talked about them. You have to hand it to America. It has exercised a quite clinical manipulation of power worldwide while masquerading as a force for universal good. It's a brilliant, even witty, highly successful act of hypnosis."
And down the backstretch he added, "I put it to you that the United States is without doubt the greatest show on the road. Brutal, indifferent, scornful and ruthless it may be, but it is also very clever. As a salesman it is out on its own and its most saleable commodity is self-love."
At the far turn Pinter hit his stride: "But while drama represents the search for truth, politics works against truth, surrounding citizens with a vast tapestry of lies, spun by politicians eager to cling to power."
Accusing the United States of torturing terrorist suspects in Guantanamo Bay and Abu Ghraib, Mr. Pinter called the invasion of Iraq, for which he said Britain was also responsible, "a bandit act, an act of blatant state terrorism, demonstrating absolute contempt of international law." He called for Prime Minister Tony Blair to be tried before an international criminal court.
Finishing the homestretch, 20 furlongs in front of everyone and accepting the roses in the winner's circle, Pinter stood up tall in the saddle and said "it was the duty of the writer to hold an image up to scrutiny, and the duty of citizens to define the real truth of our lives and our societies."
He finished by pronouncing that if such a determination is not embodied in our political vision, "we have no hope of restoring what is so nearly lost to us ‹ the dignity of man."
After thinking about this for a couple of days I decided it was perfect. It said everything about what we are doing these days in the good old U.S. of A. and said it beautifully. But there was a catch and a very tough one: It was too complicated and baroque for us, even if we had Orson Welles or John Wayne reading it or Pavarotti singing it. Only a 60-foot poster running down an 18-wheel Diamond Reo could carry the message that no one would understand.
And so clinging to the belief that good ideas often come out of bad ones, I poured a large brandy and began a long vigil. First, I rolled a standard 4-by-8 bumper sticker into my old IBM and sipping my brandy sat back waiting for the Blue Fairy. Around midnight instead of the tinkling of tiny silver bells I heard the dark and sepulchral chains of some other world and felt a cold chill. My dog growled and out in the hall I heard the cats moving about. My heart sank as I knew it wasn't the fairy but the dreaded Ghost of Christmas Past. Blessedly it was fading and blessedly it passed. Then after two quick nips of reassuring brandy, there in the moonlight of my chambers I saw a sliding shadow and felt the delicate, shimmering presence manifesting itself. A silver mist and the sound of tiny bells was everywhere and I was sure she was making an appearance. She did and I closed my eyes so I could see her better as she crouched in over the IBM and motioned for me to stand by and watch what she was doing. She shifted the keys setting from l4 points to 48, and smiling up from beneath her tiara whispered, "Forget Harold Pinter. His message is wise and people in the U.K. will love it, but we must do our own for our own people."
She shifted the 48 setting to 72. "This is much better and it can be seen at night. Even the children will love it." She smiled, then no longer able to hold the giggling back, typed "BUSH AND HIS WHOLE ADMINISTRATION ARE NOTHING BUT SOLID WASTE."
Then she laughed, "Are you sure you're going to be safe?"
"I'll be safe, I have tenure. But keep in touch."
Let us know what you think: Email Wpfoxusc@aol.com or news@free-times.com.
Georgy Porgy
My favorite New York Times writer is Frank Rich. He recently put his finger right on the problem we've all been trying to deal with but have been too nice to talk about at the watering holes around town or put in print. Rich believes George W. Bush is a walking, talking, smirking liar and he's infected everything and everyone around him.
I believe it, too. But there's more; much more. Bush also has single-handedly ‹ but for a little help from the religious right whackos ‹ tried to lower the IQ of every breathing one of us at least 10 full points by force-feeding us creationism and "intelligent design" bunk along with the pitiful and painful maunderings of Timothy LaHaye and Jerry J. Jenkins. The next time you're in a bookstore or a library pick up Glorious Appearing: The End of Days and read pages 380-381 as this gruesome twosome describe the end of the world.
They save an almost inarticulate Jesus for the final act, when we see him sitting center stage and after a few fairly pedestrian words calmly pulling the final plug sending us nonbelievers and skeptics howling and screaming into the bottomless pit.
Now you talk about a P.T. Barnum three-ring finish, this is it. The book is on a fourth-grade level and can be read while you're in the shower or driving along Interstate 77 or Garners Ferry Road. But don't buy it.
Another one of the far right contributions to the current lunacy is from the Bob Jones University zealots staked out in and around Greenville. Their message rising in song from their campsites is that liberals hate Jesus. Now you have to ponder long and hard to come up with something this creepy and this stupid. I would have loved to have sat in on that meeting when this sludge was poured out on the table and discussed and approved.
Back during the presidential campaign, Al Sharpton came to Columbia and spoke to a standing-room-only house at the Township Auditorium. The crowd loved him and stayed on their feet and stayed on their feet. I was there and covered the speech. The high point was when Sharpton said people ask him why Bush lies so much and he responds that it's because ž George Bush is a liar.
Well it's too bad we didn't listen to "Big Al" instead of Karl Rove, Scooter Libby, Cheney, Rumsfeld and Rice. Since they all used the same speechwriters they all told us the same drivel. The grateful Iraqis would line up along Hammurabi Boulevard and shower our troops with garlands of roses, sweetmeats, musicians and dancing girls. They also warned us they didn't want the "smoking gun to be a mushroom cloud." Now who in the world writes crap like that?
The question on the table then is, why so many lies. Frank Rich's answer is very simple: "When people in power get away with telling bigger and bigger lies, they naturally think they can keep getting away with it. Not anymore."
I, on the other hand, am not that charitable. I'm with "Big Al." I think George Bush lies because he is simply a liar who has surrounded himself with toads who simply agree with everything he says or does. He also lies for an even bigger almost House of Atreus reason. He lies because his father lied and has been living with the biggest lie of all ‹ that he was a World War II hero instead of the bona fide Grade A coward who bailed out over his crew who went down with his plane in the South Pacific. There are many accounts of what actually happened and I've read them all. The best one is in The Family by Kitty Kelly. This has eyewitness accounts from men in his squadron who saw no flames or no reason why Bush didn't simply land the plane in the water. They also saw only one parachute instead of three.
In any case, Rich's article concludes with the hopeful, but wistful, wrap that, "The facts the American people are listening to at this point come not from an administration that they no longer find credible, but from that far more reality-based theatre of war. The al-Qaeda suicide bombings of three hotels in Amman on ll/9, like the terrorist attacks in Madrid and London before them, speak louder than anything else of the price we are paying for the lies that diverted us from the war against the suicide bombers of 9/11 to the war in Iraq."
As they say down around the Rush Limbaugh trough, "Ditto to that."
Let us know what you think: Email Wpfoxusc@aol.com or news@free-times.com.
The Legacy of George W. Bush
Our leader had surfaced at last and, after manfully rolling up his sleeves, finally spoke. "I don't think anyone anticipated the breach of the levees." President Bush said this twice as his handlers and point men located a spot out in the boondocks away from the center of New Orleans where they knew he wouldn't be picked off, and they could get a friendly shot of him hugging someone who could stand him touching them.
One elderly black woman on Canal Street with a beautiful Cajun accent said, "Lord, I hope he doesn't come here. I just don't want to see him." When he did come to downtown New Orleans, at least the first time, it was at l0,000 feet with Air Force One gently banking so he could take an in-depth look at the devastation below. He seemed to be looking but somehow with Bush, you never can tell.
Only last year the Army Corps of Engineers asked for $l08 million for a hurricane and flood program that included levee repair in New Orleans. The $l08 million was skinned down to about $40 million, then Bush raised the pot with $231 million of pure pork suet for a bridge to an uninhabited Alaskan island. We didn't see Halliburton mentioned but then again we haven't seen the fine print yet. As a matter of fact we haven't seen much of Dick Cheney lately. One rumor is Bush is going to step down and Cheney is getting ready to kick the dirt off his spikes and step into the box. I, for one, would welcome him. He's a known felon but at least he knows we know.
Here's my favorite screw-up: The Chicago Tribune reported that the USS Bataan, with six operating rooms, hundreds of hospital beds and the ability to produce l00,000 gallons of fresh water a day, had been sitting off the Gulf Coast for several days ‹ without any patients.
Maureen Dowd in The New York Times summed it up: "Stuff happens. And when you combine limited government with incompetent government, lethal stuff happens." Dowd went on. "It would be one thing if President Bush and his inner circle lacked empathy but could get the job done. But it is a chilling lack of empathy combined with a stunning lack of efficiency that could make this administration implode."
You've got to admit, this has to be a wonderful country filled with never-ending opportunities. Where but here could a card-carrying alcoholic, National Guard-deserting, religious wacko flying the flag of creationism who has never shown any discernible evidence of a workable intelligence become president not once but twice? And where but here do a lot of people still swear by him?
While our red states are getting redder and the blues are still wondering what in the hell hit them, Rush Limbaugh (who should be doing time right about now) and Pat Robertson and Jerry Falwell and the other loopers are defending Bush and the screwball path he is taking us down as if they are advance men for the Second Coming. Folks, you've got to turn these people off of your radios. Better still, switch to FM or PBS for all the coverage you need. It will make you a better spouse and help you get rid of those leaping headaches. It's also better music. And don't go near Bill O'Reilly or Sean Hannity or Fox News. In Europe they call that crowd "The Bush Network."
Right after 9/11 Bush was stumping for us to keep our heads and continue living our normal lives by shopping and going to Disneyland and all would be well. The country would be fine, all we had to do was just go back to business as usual. In other words a little more of his "stay the course." He didn't actually say the same when he was striding through vacant Mississippi lots in Biloxi and Gulfport, but with his shoulders back and his 36-inch military stride and his thumbs along his pants seams he was certainly giving off these vibrations. From a distance, say, 100 yards, he really did look like a commander in chief.
"I don't think anyone anticipated the breach of the levees" is too long for his legacy or to carve on his stone. Right now my favorites are the red, white and blue "Mission Accomplished" and 'Bring 'em on." But coming up fast on the inside track is one that may live forever: "The George Bush War." It says it all. It's a bona fide first and the perfect bumper sticker. How many presidents have a full fledged war named for them? And we can always add "Hurricane George."
Some wag, actually it's me, is now saying that what George really needs is a sharp Japanese sword, a block of wood and a clean towel.
The End of Days
What do you mean there were no weapons of mass destruction? And no yellow cake uranium? And no aluminum tubes? And Saddam didn't have anything to do with 9/11? Or terrorism? Or al-Qaeda?
And the Iraqis were going to shower us with flowers, figs and dates and play their stringed instruments and dance for us when we came marching down Hammurabi Boulevard handing out Hershey Kisses and safe-sex paraphernalia. Lord, it was going to be a glorious time.
OK, and then what were we going to do?
Our troops were going to help the grateful Iraqis establish a democratic form of government. And we were promising we wouldn't touch their oil. We were also promising not to touch their women.
And just who in the hell bought any of this swill? Well from the election results it was most of us, and we took John Kerry down with us. But things are changing: We're now down from 60 percent to 40 percent who believe there were WMDs in Iraq and from 50 percent to 30 percent who think Saddam had anything to do with the attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon. George Bush has even said he shouldn't have said, "Bring 'em on."
In the meantime the backfield of Cheney, Rumsfeld, Ashcroft and Rice has left some pretty dirty clothes in the laundry chute with a really terrible smell. But even more dangerous than that gruesome foursome is a movement much more frightening than anything: You really owe it to your family to pick up a copy of Glorious Appearing: The End of Days by Tim Lahaye and Jerry B. Jenkins and read the last five pages where they describe the end of the world. I get night sweats just thinking of the fact that 65 million copies of the book have been sold and that people actually believe any of this pure T baloney. The writing — God knows it's easy enough to read — is a cut below comic book prose and makes Gil Thorp read like Marcel Proust.
At the end of Glorious Appearing we're told that many of the characters we've been introduced to earlier in the book have gathered at what we are asked to believe is "The Mount" in Jerusalem for the end-of-the-world celebration. The characters we've met along the way are all happily recognizing each other, backslapping and swapping stories and menus. It's like tailgating at a USC-Clemson game but with no beer or booze.
"Oh look there's Louise. Doesn't she look good after all the troubles she's had. And there's Herman. Oh I'm so glad he could make it and be with us. Oh, oh, and there He is." Guess who "He" is? Right, Jesus, who is there to separate the forgiven from the not so forgiven. Well The Prince of Peace raises his hand and all is quiet as millions of people who stretch to the horizon and beyond fall to their knees. Then after a brief but rather rambling and incomprehensible sermon ž Hold it, let's let the authors, Tim and Jerry, tell the story. After all it's theirs: "Jesus merely raised one hand a few inches and a yawning chasm opened in the earth, stretching far and wide enough to swallow all of them. They tumbled in, howling and screaming, but their wailing was soon quashed and all was silent when the earth closed itself again."
The characters we've been following — Louise and Herman and their friends — all make the cut and ascend up and up and up. But no kidding — this is a scene that I don't recommend reading to your kids before they're 20 and never before going to bed. Yet I think everyone should try it out. It's even better if you read it out loud with a few brews and a few friends. I'll probably make my class read the whole thing.
My theory about why Bush won Ohio is that Karl Rove started a rumor that Glorious Appearing was George Bush's favorite book. I mean think about it. The book sold 65 million copies and all Tim and Jerry do is talk and listen to God. There must be some tapes here and at least a miniseries. What we're taking about here is a brand new unbeatable voting block.
But back to Iraq: What on earth can Bush possibly tell us during his $40 million second inauguration? Please God, don't let him wear that Quasimoto backpack from Radio Shack. One of the rumors is he has a taped message from God via Tim and Jerry that he plays over and over again.
Anyhow, check out JFK's second inaugural speech and then listen to George's maundering this week. It should be enough to make you break out into old-fashioned boils. As for any guidance from me on Iraq, all I can come up with is John Steinbeck's comment on Russia invading Finland. It applies beautifully to our wonderful relations with Iraq and the entire Middle East: "The flies have invaded and captured the flypaper."