Life as a Spectator Sport

Water cooler gossip in DC has it that GW is drinking again. Or he is snorting again. Or he never stopped. He's arrogant and abusive, screaming at staff members who don't jump high enough quickly enough. Or he's aloof and detached, speaking only to the four women closest to him—his wife, his mother, Karen Hughes and Condoleeza Rice. Whatever the opinion, a lot of people think something is seriously wrong with Dubya. In fact, a lot of people think he's the Worst. President. Ever. and a poor excuse for a human being.

And then you have people who have known Bush for years and describe him as one of the most decent men they've ever met, who sincerely wanted to improve public education, bring minorities into the mainstream of American life, help the poor.

How can there be two such radically different perceptions of the same person? One possibility, of course, is that as governor of Texas, Bush had a much less demanding job, but he also had aides and associates who were basically "on the same page" as he was. Texas had its problems under Bush; many of the issues he claims to have addressed merely festered until someone else occupied the State House and had to deal with them. But the job itself seems to have been within his grasp and to have been one that he enjoyed. Moreover, whether one agreed with his politics or not, his manner during the 2000 campaign appeared to be sincere and confident.

So how did we get from a reasonably able and apparently happy governor to the man described now as detached from people, aloof in his job, unwilling to accept advice, probably (if the video clips are anything to go by) drinking heavily again?

Everyone else has a theory; I might as well toss mine out there too. What if George really is, inside, the basically decent person described by his closest friends? What if someone said to him, "Hey, George, how'd you like to be President of the US? We can get you elected. You just go along with us, and do what we tell you to do, and say what we tell you to say, and we'll make you President."

For someone whose track record even within his own family was less than stellar, those are mighty tempting words. So let's just say that's what he did. And sure enough, Dick and Karl and Grover Norquist and Bill Kristol and some others got him sort-of-elected, and a little pressure on the Supreme Court got him into the White House. Wow! President of the great United States!

And then 9/11 happens. Bush doesn't jump up and act all Presidential, because he's been told to just stay calm. Finish reading to the kiddies. Everything's cool, George, don't worry. Just go where we tell you to go, and read what we put in front of you.

Now we're gonna invade Iraq, George. That SOB Saddam humiliated your daddy. Wouldn't you like to get back at him? Here's your chance. We'll fix the intel, don't worry. Just say what we tell you to say and let us worry about the details.

Even the 2004 election isn't too bad. Everybody knows some funny stuff went on in Ohio—some people never got to vote and some returns just mysteriously (no, miraculously!) changed, but hell, that happens all the time, George, don't worry about it, I promised you Ohio, didn't I?

But then it all begins to unravel. The truth about the intelligence starts to come out, even if a lot of people don't believe it at first. The truth about Valerie Plame comes out, even if everyone involved denies it. It's obvious to everyone that Iraq is going to hell in a handbasket, and that the only people throwing flowers are the contractors who are making a mint off the American taxpayer. George keeps repeating what his advisors tell him to say, but underneath, he knows he has lied and bull-shitted and pulled the wool over the eyes of his fellow Americans.

That's not a good place to be if you're basically a decent fellow. What do you do? Repudiate your earlier positions? Blame it all on your advisors? Say you misread the situation, but you're going to change things? Not unless you have a lot more spine than anyone thinks George has, decent fellow or not. And if your advisors are Dick Cheney and Karl Rove and Grover Norquist, you might possibly just be a little afraid of them. What might they do to you, or to your wife, or to your daughters, if you exposed them?

But maybe George digs in his heels and said, "Look here, I'm the President! You're supposed to take orders from me, not the other way around." And maybe someone says, "Okay, have it your way. See if you can run the country."

And Katrina hits the Gulf Coast, and suddenly George is in the hot seat. Everybody is pointing fingers and hurling accusations, and every time he opens his mouth, he seems to make things worse. His advisors aren't much help; Condi is out buying shoes and Dick is out buying a house and it was never real clear where Karl was for a few days there.

Just when things seemed to be settling down a little, there's a Supreme Court justice to nominate. Nobody's wants to help George—"You're the President, remember? Can't you even pick a Supreme Court candidate by yourself?" Quick, now, George, who would be good for that job? Someone who makes you feel like a real man, right? A real President? Someone like, you know—Harriet. Harriet? Well . . . why not?

If this little fantasy is anywhere near the truth, I would guess that's the point at which other people took back the reins of goverment. "Okay, George, you've had your fun playing President. You've proven you can't handle it, so we're going back to the script."

What do you do, if you're the most important man in the free world and you know it's all a lie? You know the intelligence was screwed, and that thousands of young Americans died for nothing. You can't talk to Cindy Sheehan, not because you're angry with her, but because you can't look her in the eye and lie to her. You can't trust most of the people around you. You know you screwed up on Katrina, and that everyone was laughing at you over Harriet. What do you do?

No one could really blame you for having a snort now and then, could they? No one would believe the President of the United States (even though you know you didn't really earn the job) is secretly an alcoholic. Would they? Have another drink, George. We won't tell Laura. You'll feel better.

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