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Jewish World Review August 14, 2001 / 25 Menachem-Av, 5761
James Lileks
Of course, Europeans are famous for taking the month of August off, and
aren't we supposed to be like the enlightened souls across the pond? True -
but the smart set doesn't think Bush will be like the Europeans, who they
presume take public transport to small seaside cafes and discuss social
policy while drinking insouncient-yet-honest red wine. Bush, the smart set
fears, will do all those embarassingly ranch-ish things --- roping animals
(disrespectful to the Bovine American community) mending fences (very
symbolic of American's regrettable attachment to private property) and
plinking tin cans with a handgun while spitting tobacco by-products onto the
sullied bosom of bondaged Gaia.
Gore wouldn't have gone to his ranch. Gore would have gone to Tibet,
maybe, or perhaps headed to Peru to personally slather sunblock on penguins
burned by the hole in the ozone layer. Nader would have holed himself up in
his office and memorized dioxin particulate ratios. If either had been
forced into a vacation, you can be sure they would have taken along
tottering stacks of books, the heft and density of which would require a
longer runway for Air Force One.
The reading list is a staple of the Presidental vacation, wherein we
glimpse the soul of our leader. This makes him an Oprah for the DC set, who
know what sort of book they're supposed to pretend to have read. Clinton had
good taste, now and then; he touted the novels of Walter Mosley, a black
mystery writer. (Even in those last few moments before he drifted off to
sleep and put the book on the stand, Clinton was mindful to shore up the
base.) But a modern pol's PR team puts out a reading list that looks like a
graduate school syllabus. This demonstrates Seriousness. Dare one say -
Gravitas. "Empty Claws: Monetarism, Species Extinction, and the Life of
the Carrier Pigeon." Or "Raging Piles: Gender Paradigms in the 19th Century
Bureaucracy."
No one reads these books, of course; they read reviews, which are
sufficient for dinnertime conversation. And perhaps if a night into town
ends with a stroll through Dupont Circle, and one finds oneself in
Kramerbooks, glowing with two glasses of chablis, delighting in the sheer
urban . . .unranchyness of it all, one buys "Raging Piles" with the intense
satisfaction of knowing that Dubya would never buy this book. He's probably
moving his lips to a Clancy Op-Center thriller. If that.
Bush had to make matters worse when he praised his vacation choice for
its heartland location. The Heartland annoys people on the coasts. It makes
their fillings sing. The Coasts require the money and the labor of the
Heartland, handed over unstintingly whenever required. In exchange, the
Heartland gratefully capers in the fountain of drivel provided by the
entertainment establishment, and nods dutifully when the media
establishments tells them what their betters think. Coastal sorts are
annoyed to no end when people praise the heartland; to them, it's a big flat
sileage dump full of dolts who believe in a G-d with a white beard and
sandals, and get on the internet only to bid up EBay offerings of Precious
Moments figurines with handpainted Nazi uniforms.
It frightens the smart set when Bush appeals to these people. These
people shop at Sam's Club. These people buy in bulk. These people not only
listen to Paul Harvey, they are completely incapable of a good Silvia
Poggioli impersonation. Who knows what they're capable of.
They're capable of an extraordinary amount of physical work, which is
more than the nomenklatura of DC can say. Which is why they might well be
disinclined to scowl at a month-long vacation. They'd do the same thing if
they won the presidency, or the lottery. And they might well do just that -
after the tax refund pays off the credit card nut, there might be a few
bucks left over for the Powerball.
Thanks, George! Have a nice
08/10/01: Hail to our co-chiefs?
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