John Cheever Achieves Total Media Domination

With Sunday’s New York Times review of Blake Bailey’s new biography of John Cheever, the reconsideration of John Cheever’s oeuvre has officially reached a crescendo.

In the last month alone, Bailey’s tome on Mr. Cheever’s life and work (which this publication has always ignored as an obsolete cultural oddity akin to Esperanto or penile-enlargement pumps) has been the subject of lengthy reviews in the New Yorker, Harpers, The Onion, Washington Post, and Entertainment Weekly to name just a few.

Overkill?

Perhaps…but those outside the print, or “smudgecore,” media should be warned that there is a passel of upcoming Cheever-related articles from a wide variety of publications. Willful ignorance may no longer be an option. Consider:

Popular Mechanics: “Cheever’s Backyard Distillery: Shocking New Blueprints”

W Magazine: “Mario Testino Shoots Cheever’s Yaddo Sex Dungeon”

Prison Living: “Sing-Sing Master Class: Cheever-ize Your Parole Board Letter Today!”

Good Housekeeping: “StainBusters: Remove Shame and/or Spunk from that Favorite Cardigan”

American Journal of Psychiatry: “Freak! The Definitive John Cheever Case Study”

Falconer & Raptor Conservationist: “Cheever Reconsidered: Honestly, We Hoped For A Little More Falconing.”

Hot Rod: “Merritt Pkwy Showdown: John Cheever’s ‘55 Bel Air Hemi Vs. Rick Moody’s SS 454″

Juggs: “The Wapshot Chronicle”

Variety: “Cheever Pic Loses Dix: Straitharn, Franco Ankle Schnabel Oater”

inTouch Weekly: “Angie To Brad: ‘Finish Cheever Bio or I’m Leaving’”

Highlights For Children: “Cheever’s Earliest Work: Surprisingly Lucid, Insecure”

Fangoria: “Horror Show: Impotent Zombie Cheever Haunts Westchester Co.”

Cosmopolitan: “Dad’s Diary: Read It And Weep (Silently, Please)”

Tiger Beat: “Special Fold-Out Section: Rate Cheever’s Twinks!”

The New England Journal of Medicine: “FDA Approves Glaxo’s Anti-Cheever Fatigue Drug”

Published in:  on March 31, 2009 at 10:43 pm Leave a Comment
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Barack Obama Insults Dog, Jumps Shark

Reasonable people may differ as to when exactly the bloom came off the rose for Barack Obama. Of course, hopes fulfilled inevitably bring anti-climax, so it’s possible that much of the general public is now predisposed to find fault even where none exists. But surely few of his supporters, and I count myself among them, will deny that there has been much to deplore about Mr. Obama’s post-election conduct.

For some, the most dispiriting event was the unwelcome reappearance of the Clintonistas, returning through the revolving door that separates the public and private sectors for a last hurrah, a stale Hollywood plot line instead of the “Change from Beyond-the-Beltway” we were promised.

For others, Obama jumped the shark when he continued to send solicitous e-mail (still signed “Barack”), raising money almost as if by reflex, weeks after the election. (Allow me a quick “reply all.” Barack, if I may call you that, people don’t really want to be on a first name basis with their president even if they say they do. Being a young president does not mean you have to behave like a childish one.)

But, for me, the honeymoon ended when Barack Obama insulted my dog on national television.

The “Kimball Corollary” to “O’Neill’s Law,” which states that “All politics are local,” is that “All politics is personal.” (I prefer to regard “politics” as singular rather than plural – let the debate begin.) Last week, during an interview with Barbara Walters (another deplorable move), President-Elect Obama made cruel fun of my dog, gratuitously and without any sort of provocation. That’s when the sad fact I have somehow known all along really hit home: the Barack Obama who will sit in the Oval Office is not and cannot be the same man who ran for that office.

<a href=”The exchange in question took place as Ms. Walters attempted to sell the First Couple on her own preferred breed, a Havanese.

Obama: “Cha Cha?”

Barbara: “It’s short for Cha Cha Cha.”
O: “What is a Havanese?”
B: “It’s like a little terrier and they’re non-allergenic and they’re the sweetest dogs..”
O: [Face suddenly changes.] “It’s like a little yappy dog?”
Michelle: “Don’t criticize.”
O: “It, like, sits in your lap and things?”
M: “It’s a cute dog.”
O: “It sounds kinda like a girly dog.”
M: “We’re girls. We have a houseful of girls.”
O [with hand gestures]: “We’re going to have a big rambunctious dog, of some sort.”

Like Barbara Walters (which is something we are going to have to come to terms with at a later time), my wife and I have a Havanese. Manuel has all the classic dog virtues: he is loyal and affectionate, brave and (somewhat) obedient, and, if anyone tried to take him away from me, they’d have to pry him from my cold, dead hands.

The creation myths of the Havanese breed are various. As their name suggests, they are Cuban, but whether they came there first as the playthings of Spanish aristocrats or to bring joy to the laboring masses as circus dogs is debated. Some say they made landfall in the New World having crossed as shipboard sentinels watching for men overboard, a legacy that would make them unusually beloved among the non-swimming sailors of the day. Our dog still gives the alarm when anyone in our neighborhood dives into a pool or when, at the beach, anyone in his quarter-mile patrol zone is foolish enough to brave the waves.

By immemorial custom, the First Family must be dog owners just as they must be churchgoers and sportsfans. For Barack Obama to promise his daughters a new puppy if he were elected was a no-brainer, like promising them their own airplane or a new house at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. Once Wolf Blitzer called it on Election Night, the Obama family was getting a dog whether the kids wanted one or not.

The semiotics of dog ownership, for presidents and paupers alike, are equally well established. By saying that he wanted a “big, rambunctious dog,” Obama was trying to don the mantle of the “guy’s guy.” Big rambunctious dogs, through their genetic link to working and hunting breeds, establish one’s bona fides with the masses. Those toy breeds who don’t have to work for living probably belong to people who don’t either – or so the conventional wisdom would have it.

Of course, big, rambunctious dogs also imply that the owner is not gay which is important for Obama as he considers a politically radioactive repeal of the “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” rules which stuck like flypaper to Bill Clinton during his first year in office. For what it’s worth, Barack Obama has risen very high in American life without, as far as I can tell, anyone suggesting he’s gay. I really think ghettoizing an entire species of dog is unnecessary overcompensation in that regard.

(By the way, the days of swishy interior decorators with a Teacup Maltese under their arm seem to me to have gone with the wind. Check out the Big Dog Run in Washington Square Park if you don’t believe me.)

To give Michelle Obama credit, she attempted to give her husband some cover by suggesting that a “girly dog” would be entirely appropriate for “a houseful of girls.” It was a nice try, but clearly Mr. Obama meant “girly” in the pejorative sense, not as an adjective denoting “nice for girls,” but rather to suggest a dog that lives in conflict with its own manly nature or the manly nature of dogs in general.

The focus group that sits inside Barack Obama’s head has mostly served him well. It has enabled him to take terrifying political risks with that icy cool that we all love and fear. But in this case, his inner focus group has steered him wrong. Making distinctions about dogs based on breed is nothing less than a form of canine racism and exactly the sort of thing many of us had hoped we were leaving behind on Nov. 3. Is a Newfoundland who tongue kisses his male owner and hides under the bed during a thunderstorm any less girly than a Chihuahua who barks at trucks and has the guts to try to mate with a throw pillow more than twice his size?

And, after setting a fine example by declaring that he would adopt (or “rescue” in current parlance) a dog rather than buy one, Obama is acting irresponsibly by getting a dog much larger than is practical for people in his zip code who don’t have a Rose Garden and South Lawn for it to run around on. Inevitably, one wonders who is going to clean up after the big, rambunctious dog leaves his big, rambunctious bowel movements scattered about the White House grounds? I suspect our new Commander-in-Chief will be commanding someone to do that job for him.

In the four years since he came into our lives, Manuel has watched over our baby, protected our family, comforted us in times of trouble, given us unconditional love, forgiven us our occasional negligence, entertained us, encouraged us to exercise, and provided us with a middle class tax cut. If President-Elect Obama can say all that at the end of his first term, then I’ll be interested to hear his opinion about my dog. But until then, Mr. President-Elect, how about a little less time disparaging dogs because of their breed and a little more time explaining why you voted for that $700 billion bail-out that didn’t work?

Thanks in advance.

Published in:  on December 1, 2008 at 10:07 pm Leave a Comment
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Alaska: The Un-American State

Less than a minute after Rudy Giuliani finished tanning himself in the spotlight in St. Paul, Sarah Palin took the stage Wednesday night in the most eagerly anticipated Republican debut since Brenda Frazier made her curtsies before polite society back in ’38, (Actually, that’s not really fair. For all I know, Brenda may have been a Democrat. Or a Nazi.)

Although the expectations in Brenda’s case were rather higher, due to the fact that the Great Depression was at it’s peak and war loomed in Europe, our current economic difficulties and military entanglements gave a certain moment to Sarah’s appearance. Perhaps she would enlighten, inspire, or distract us (as Brenda did), any one of which would be most welcome.

Can we be honest about a few things at the outset? Palin seemed personable and reasonably (though not wildly, as some would have it) attractive. She spoke clearly and professionally. And the crowd at the RNC is much less freakish and alarming in close-up than the delegates — or whoever those people are — at the DNC. Can we admit that? We can’t? Okay. Well, at least we’re being honest about what we can’t be honest about.

Like her running mate John McCain, she’s a candidate with a story, not a platform. Politicians have their choice of three types of slender reed to grasp along the steeper parts of the campaign trail: personal sagas, slogans, or solid facts wrought into detailed plans. Since no one’s ever gotten anywhere on the last, winners tend to stick with the first two. McCain-Palin are currently about 83% personal stories and 17% slogans by volume, whereas the other guys are closer to half-and-half, thanks to all that “change and hope” stuff.

Having endured a lefty snarkfest about her family, Palin properly waved them in our faces, daring the haters to hurl the first stone at adorable Trig, startlingly bosomed Bristol, or her menfolk, husband Todd, jarheaded Track, and soon-to-be-son-in-law Psycho, who looked like they had had to have their neckties tied for them and been shaved with a chainsaw just before showtime. I had hoped we might get a chance to meet the Palin family pets as well, especially Mr. Squeaky, the guinea pig we’ve all heard so much about. How cute would it have been to see him sitting in a chair wearing a tiny credential made from construction paper contentedly munching away at a piece of Romaine lettuce?

The generation before Sarah Palin’s, the “Not-the-Greatest Generation,” as it’s known, often spoke of where someone was “coming from” as a metaphor for understanding what that person thought or meant, as in “until he pulled out the gun and stole my drugs, I didn’t really get where he was coming from.”

In their (okay, our) parlance, last night was a chance to find out where Sarah Palin is coming from: what she thinks, wants, and feels. And what she knows for sure and what she believes on faith. Some of that information is indeed there in the speech, along with that business about selling the governor’s plane on eBay, which is too good to bother checking out.

But still we need to know more (and, thanks, Rudy, for pre-empting Palin’s introductory and no doubt highly informative video.) Fortunately, there is another way to find out where Sarah Palin is “coming from” and that’s to learn more about where she actually is coming from: Alaska.

Being governor of Alaska is not exactly like being governor of, say, Arkansas or Texas. Or, for that matter, New York, where the rising star of Governor Eliot Spitzer fell to earth when the balancing act that is familiar to every working mother between work and kids (in his case young prostitutes) proved too much for him. No, being governor of Alaska is a little like being the Sultan of Dubai in that a major task is to come up with new ways to hand out oil money to residents, a little like being prime minister of Sweden in that you preside over a lavishly-funded welfare state where no shame attaches to government handouts, and a little like being the head of the Coalition Provisional Authority in Iraq because there is no limit to your claim on federal largesse. Sarah Palin hasn’t traveled much overseas but she doesn’t have to. She’s already the governor of the most foreign of the 50 states.

Alaska’s heterodox state finances have been much discussed and the details are probably known to anyone who has read this far. In summary, each resident will receive almost $3300 this year in dividends from oil and gas revenues and, when they spend that money, they will pay no state sales taxes. (A personal disclaimer: my recent decision to move myself and my family to Alaska was made long before I heard that they give you money just for living there.) Thrift and saving for a rainy day are not virtues that Alaskans demand of their government; a drunken sailor mentality prevails. When asked by her constituents, “Can I have my allowance early, Mom?” Sarah Palin has always answered yes and thus became the most popular mom in America. Although the frontier closed a century and a half ago in the lower 48, Alaska still takes a certain amount of pride in its reputation as an untamed outlaw outpost despite the fact that it nurses more greedily at the federal teat than any other state, including the broke ones without any energy revenues.

(Again, in the interest of fairness, I’d like to point out that the Bridge to Nowhere actually did go to an island. It didn’t drop the cars off in the middle of the Bering Sea as the name might suggest.)

Sarah Palin rules (and, thanks to an unusual consolidation of power in the governor’s office, she really does rule) as viceroy over a vast demesne larger in area than all but 18 other countries but, with a mere 680,000 residents, smaller in population than all but three states. From this we might conclude that she will be more effective at dealing with forest fires than she will in coming up with a solution to the health care crisis. Duh, right?

But there are unique details to the Alaska experience from which further-ranging conclusions about what a Palin vice-presidency might bring us can be drawn. For one thing, she is the only governor with extensive experience in governing active volcanoes. There are dozens in Alaska, as opposed to three in Hawaii, and a measly one in California. Throughout her term in office, Palin has been wary, respectful, and non-confrontational in dealing with the volcanoes. We can expect the same in her posture regarding a resurgent Russia and volatile Iran.

Also, Alaska borders a foreign country, Canada, not other states. I would expect Sarah Palin to take no nonsense from the Canadians. While the Russians may bluster, it’s those conniving self-effacing Canucks that Palin knows can never be fully trusted.

Despite the ardent faith of its governor, Alaskans are among the least religious people in the country. Sarah Palin has learned to admire the state’s 3,000 Jews, who, at least, believe in the “Judeo” part of Judeo-Christian and not the Great Spirit or whatever it is exactly that Mormons believe. I predict strong support for Israel.

Because of Alaska’s poorly developed highway system, flying is the norm for all but the most local journeys and railways are extensively used for transport. Vice President Palin is very likely to be receptive to suggestions for commemorative stamps that feature either planes or trains.

And finally there is the small town character of so much of Alaskan life that Gov. Palin mentioned in her speech last night. Her values are those of Wasilla, Soldotna, and Homer not the heartless big city bustle of Fairbanks, Juneau, or Eagle River. Even in higher office, her concerns can be expected to mirror those of small town Americans with expanding movie showtimes and the building of skateboard parks in order to keep young people from moving away expected to be high priorities.

Oh, and the Alaskan custom of an alcohol-induced midwinter “hibernation” through the dark days of the winter solstice is an idea from outside-the-Beltway that Palin has promised to introduce to Washington.

Published in:  on September 4, 2008 at 12:55 pm Leave a Comment
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Barack Obama’s Speech: An Assessment

Even his diehard opponents will admit that Barack Obama, for months the presumptive and, as of last night, the actual Democratic nominee, rarely puts a foot wrong along the campaign trail. While some have criticized his rhetorical style as bloodless and vague, it is clearly a choice, the result of a calculated decision by a remarkably intelligent politician with masterful instincts.

So it was surprising, to say the least, to see Obama make not one but a dozen or more missteps during what was, by media acclamation, the most important speech of his life.

First of all, while it must have seemed like brilliant idea to have the hugely popular Olympic swimmer Michael Phelps carry Senator Obama onto the stage, even a cursory rehearsal should have revealed that the best way for Phelps to do so was piggy-back not in an over-the-shoulder fireman’s carry. As it was, the first thing the audience saw of their candidate was his rear end. Even once Phelps began to walk toward the podium and Senator Obama began waving to the crowd, the entire procedure seemed ungainly and somehow undignified. That Obama slipped and almost fell when Phelps set him down didn’t help, despite the two men’s labored effort to laugh it off.

The Illinois Senator always looks sleek, fit, and clean-cut, as he did in Denver on Thursday night. But, in an apparent response to the flag-pin controversy from earlier this summer, his suit jacket was lined with a Stars-and-Stripes patterned satin, which he made a point of flashing on several occasions in a silly, showboat display.

The leather sandals were a poor choice of a different sort, not flashy, but seemingly a reference to Mr. Obama’s deep support among academics and intellectuals, a group he would be well-advised to distance himself from before the general election in November. It was an outfit befitting the mid-80s Elton John from the ankles up and a Bard professor on sabbatical in Morocco from the ankles down. Even a presidential contender who is campaigning on a platform of change, (one might say especially one who is campaigning on a platform of change) must know how to avoid distracting voters from his message with his wardrobe.

Perhaps Mr. Obama should get some fashion advice from his photogenic wife, Michelle, whose speech on Monday night was greeted with almost universal acclaim, and who looked elegant and cool — “First Lady-like” for lack of a better term — last night. However, surely the man behind her in the t-shirt with the faded image of the Zig-Zag Rolling Paper man could have been seated elsewhere rather than conspicuously over Mrs. Obama’s shoulder. Or, if he could not have been moved, at least he could have been asked not to spend so much time fiddling with his BlackBerry and then dozing. The Obamas’ two daughters looked poised and adorable, as always.

The corporate tie-ins are probably the aspect of last night’s speech likely to draw the most fire from late night comedians looking for a cheap shot. The lengthy PowerPoint presentation from Dennis Dinsmore, Invesco’s Vice President for Communications, that preceded Obama’s speech was little more than a sales pitch couched in manipulatively patriotic language. However, the stadium does belong to Invesco and, one supposes, a few trade-offs were necessary in order to secure the venue for the night. Mr. Obama’s ostentatiously placed Coca-Cola cup from which he sipped repeatedly (despite never appearing to break a sweat) was intrusive and less justifiable. Viewers have become used to seeing this sort of product placement on “American Idol” or during NASCAR races but this is the first time a nominee from a major party has plumbed the depths of corporate underwriting. (John Anderson, a third party candidate, did agree to allow his 1980 campaign to be sponsored by Chrysler – a publicity stunt that ultimately backfired for both Anderson and the carmaker.)

On a contrarian note, this viewer found the signs with “CHANGE” written on one side in white block letters over a black background and “CHANEL” on the other, which were distributed to the crowd and seem destined to become big sellers on eBay, amusing and clever. The Obama people can seem deathly serious at times and the prestige fashion brand’s participation was a welcome playful note unlike the repeated mentions of the new NBC Fall Lineup that the candidate was obliged (for a reported $10 million) to work into the speech itself. These were invariably forced and ham-fisted.

Before Mr. Obama had even left the stadium, mash-ups of different awkward moments from last night had already made their way to YouTube. For some, the most embarrassing incident occurred when a member of Obama’s Secret Service detail accidentally walked into a plant and fell off the stage just as the senator was describing the hardships of ordinary Americans; for others it was when singer Michael McDonald was heard using the toilet on an open microphone as Mr. Obama spoke about the challenges we face abroad.

But surely the introduction of the past five losing Democratic candidates, starting with the extremely frail George McGovern, who then rose to the stage on small disc-shaped elevators, would make anyone’s list of unintentionally amusing lowlights. There they were: McGovern, Walter Mondale, Michael Dukakis, Al Gore, and John Kerry, one more awkward and uncomfortable than the next, rising, giving a quick wave, and then being abruptly lowered again.

Any political speech has both text and an infinite number of layered subtexts. The dominant open question of the evening was how aggressively Senator Obama would attack his Republican opponent, Senator John McCain of Arizona. Although he has largely eschewed the call-and-response cadence of the black church, in this case Mr. Obama played a verbal game with the crowd by inviting them to shout “Don’t ask and don’t tell!” in response to a series of rhetorical questions. “How,” Senator Obama wondered, “would John McCain cut taxes and lower the deficit?” “Don’t ask and don’t tell!” shouted the crowd. “How can John McCain cut our dependence on foreign oil without upsetting the oil companies who back him?” “Don’t ask and don’t tell!” And so on.

While the 80,000 people packed in to Invesco Stadium clearly enjoyed the audience participation, the implication seemed to be that, like so many politicians, Senator McCain has a secret homosexual past, a charge McCain appeared to take seriously enough to rebut by asking a 38-year-old former Playboy Playmate from Alaska (Jeff – check this before posting – bk) to be his running mate earlier today.

An appeal to pet owners complete with a lengthy description of what he would do, if elected, to improve the lives of America’s dogs and cats was an equally audacious gambit. It was effective, no doubt, for those who believe that government has certain responsibilities to all Americans, not just humans, while others surely saw the expansion of, for instance, a federal program to guarantee student loans for dog grooming school as needless pandering. Other elements of the speech were unequivocal disasters, such as a joke about invading Uruguay that fell flat and then drew an angry response from the Uruguayan government.

Though Obama has lately taken to having a glass of beer and a shot of whiskey (a “beer and a bump” as campaign manager David Axelrod calls it) before every speech, as part of an effort to burnish his Everyman credentials, the senator seemed utterly unimpaired last night. Gone was the weaving, stumbling, maudlin Obama who had stopped his motorcade to give an impromptu 2 A.M. lecture to a road crew repairing a water main in Billings, Montana only three nights before. In his place was a man who had clearly learned how to hold his liquor.

Finally, it must be said that how you felt about the speech depended in part on how you experienced it. Those who watched on television were barraged with constant restless cutaways to young women in the crowd flashing their breasts along with the morbidly obese couples in cowboy hats who are an inexplicable staple of all political conventions, Republican and Democratic. One brief shot of the crowd did appear to capture a murder taking place, though no body was found. Denver police are investigating.

If, instead, you had the privilege of watching the speech in the stadium it is likely that, despite the many miscues and errors, your eyes were filled with tears at the end. That politicians can still make us cry with joy, with sadness, with hope, with rage, or with an overpowering need to urinate is one of the most reassuring constants of our cynical age.

Published in:  on August 29, 2008 at 4:09 pm Leave a Comment
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Despite What You May Have Heard, the Following Female Singers have not “Still Got It”

Madonna
Debbie Harry
Aretha Franklin

Published in:  on April 13, 2008 at 9:56 pm Leave a Comment
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New York’s Lusty Governors: An Appreciation

Now that the dust has begun to settle from the dual revelations of the prostitution scandal involving former New York Governor Eliot Spitzer and the numerous affairs admitted to by his successor, David Patterson, we have had time to ponder the fate of these powerful men and the superhuman sexual drives that brought about the downfall of one and severely compromised the other.

Why is, we wondered, that we have found ourselves humming the theme from “Thunderball” ever since the full magnitude of New York’s gubernatorial misconduct became apparent? For those who may not recall the words, here are the lyrics to “Thunderball” as sung by the inimitable Tom Jones:

He always runs while others walk
He acts while other men just talk.
He looks at this world, and wants it all,
So he strikes, like Thunderball.

He knows the meaning of success.
His needs are more, so he gives less.
They call him the winner who takes all.
And he strikes, like Thunderball.

Any woman he wants, he’ll get.
He will break any heart without regret.
His days of asking are all gone.
His fight goes on and on and on.
But he thinks that the fight is worth it all.
So he strikes like Thunderball

Hmm. Does that sound like any governors you know?

The Jews have a saying, “The rabbi is allowed.” Perhaps what we are all missing amidst the moralizing and pontificating is simply this, like Thunderball, Spitzer and Patterson’s needs may be more, hence they give less. After all, these are not governors of Nebraska or Ohio or Alabama. These are the governors of New York, the Empire State, the most important state in the union.

Consider this: New York’s economy is larger than any other state’s and all but seven other countries. It is home to our largest city. New York has more state employees than Montana has residents. We could go on but we think you see our point. The governor of New York is not just any governor. He stands astride our Eastern Seaboard like a colossus, with one foot planted in the waters of mighty Niagra and the other deep in the seas lapping at windswept Montauk. The Erie Canal, the lifeblood of our country’s commerce, flows in his veins. He is not subject to the same petty rules and hidebound morality as the rest of us. He makes his own laws! What the governor of New York wants, he takes.

And when the burdens of holding the world on his shoulders begin to weigh on him, these Atlases take their rest as they see fit. It is not for us to judge since it is we who have burdened them thus because we know that, unlike us, they are equal to the task. Their wives understand and appreciate their spouses’ exceptional status. They have both stood by their men, their dignified silence a reproach to those of us who would condemn their husbands for seeking the emotional and physical sustenance they need to carry out the Hurculean labors we have assigned them. These men have sex like others have breakfast — and for the same purpose. Their goal is not idle wantonness but rather simple nourishment.

And for this crime: the crime of being bigger and better than the rest of us, of living life on a larger scale, of daring to write their names on history’s great canvas, for this we have scourged them and driven them from office. For this, we have mocked them.

We should be ashamed.

– The Editors

Published in:  on March 30, 2008 at 11:44 pm Comments Off
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The Downfall of Governor Eliot Spitzer: An Old Yorker Commentary

Forgive us for not being too terribly shocked at the news that New York’s crusading governor, Eliot Spitzer, has been implicated in a prostitution scandal. To us it is more surprising that the press and the public were so naive as to miss the obvious warning signs of Spitzer’s dangerous habit for so long.

Although it was duly reported in the media, no one seemed to find it somewhat odd that Governor Spitzer declared the first three weeks of this year “Prostitute Week,” “Anal Sex Week,” and “Anal Sex with a Prostitute Week,” respectively.

Then there was his somewhat unusual appearance at the white tie Al Smith Dinner, an annual A-list political event that is sponsored by the Roman Catholic Archdiocese of New York under the personal patronage of Cardinal Edward Egan. Spitzer arrived late without his wife Silda but accompanied by two women whom he introduced to the Cardinal as Sapphire and Chardonnay. Sapphire, who wore a tight lime-green cocktail dress with a plunging neckline, described herself as the governor’s “friend” and said that she had known him for approximately three months. Chardonnay, a Ukrainian national who spoke very little English, declined to answer any questions about her relationship with the governor except to say that she was thrilled to meet the “King of America,” evidently a reference to Cardinal Egan.

It is episodes like this which should have raised a warning flag and been examined in greater depth by the press, rather than buried in a brief mention in the Metro Section. Even if there were, in fact, nothing inappropriate about Spitzer’s relationship with Sapphire and Chardonnay, there is still the appearance of impropriety to consider along with the governor’s judgement in inviting them to such a high profile event and parading them before reporters and the assembled dignitaries.

In retrospect, it almost seems like he wanted to get caught.

There was, for example, the interview he gave to British television in which he joked that there was “room under my desk for a hooker to give me [oral sex] and you guys would never know.” Spitzer then refused to allow the camera crew to look under his desk and appeared distracted, at one point moaning and rocking his head back with his mouth open.

On another occasion, Spitzer invited his rival, State Senate Minority Leader Joseph Bruno, for a helicopter flight during which he suggested that they could both have sex with prostitutes while hovering over their respective residences, something he told Bruno he did frequently. When Bruno subsequently recounted the discussion to a reporter for the Albany Times-Union, Spitzer said that he had been speaking metaphorically and denounced Bruno for engaging in “typical dirty politics.” The Times-Union ran a brief item attacking Bruno that reported Spitzer’s actions only in the context of making the case that the Minority Leader was “utterly humorless.”

Looking back further, to Spitzer’s college days, one can easily see the deep roots of his lifelong fascination with prostitutes and deviant sexual activities. At Princeton, Spitzer was known to the other members of his eating club, Tiger Inn, as “Pimpzler” because, as one of them put it, “he wanted to bring strippers and hookers to everything. ‘Christmas Party: let’s have hookers. Homecoming Weekend: we’ll get some hookers. Spring Formal: instead of dates, let’s invite hookers.’ Even for a college student, that guy had a one-track mind.”

At Harvard Law School, Spitzer’s own official biography reports that he “frequented the strip bars in Boston’s Combat Zone with his mentor, Professor Alan Dershowitz.” What the biography conveniently fails to mention is that Spitzer and Dershowitz were known as “the rubber glove twins” among Boston’s stripper community because of certain actions they would ask the dancers to perform in a private room for which they were willing to pay extra.

“He used to talk about how he was going to be president one day,” said Danielle Garcia, 48, a retired Combat Zone stripper who encountered Spitzer and Dershowitz frequently during the former’s years at law school. “And we all believed him. He was very persuasive.”

In the end, the lesson to be learned from the downfall of Eliot Spitzer is not about one man’s hubris and arrogance or even about his tragic flaw or possible mental illness. It is about our own blindness and naivete; for what is remarkable about Spitzer is not that he fell so far but that he rose so high in the first place.

– The Editors

Published in:  on March 10, 2008 at 10:57 pm Leave a Comment
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Barack Hussein Obama: An Old Yorker Commentary

Cincinnati radio talk show host Bill Cunningham ignited a firestorm of controversy at a John McCain rally earlier this week when he repeatedly referred to Senator Barack Obama by using his middle name “Hussein.” Although Cunningham maintained that his use of Obama’s full name was entirely normal and innocent (and cited “John Fitzgerald Kennedy” and “Franklin Delano Roosevelt” as proof), McCain called Cunningham’s comments “inappropriate” and pledged that Obama’s middle name would not be used as an issue by anyone from his campaign.

Underlying the incident is the question of what exactly the significance of Obama’s middle name is and what exactly Cunningham might have been implying by using it. To assume the worst (always a safe bet when talk radio personalities are concerned), Cunningham may have been suggesting that Barack Obama is a sort of “Manchurian Candidate” for the Islamoterrorists, implanted with radical fundamentalist ideas as a child and poised to enshrine them as American law if he were elected president. A recent widely-circulated photograph of Obama wearing traditional Islamic garb may have given credence to this notion.

To give this suggestion consideration it is probably not due, let us first consider the name “Hussein.” It is, of course, an extremely common name in the Muslim world, especially among Shia Muslims who revere Hussein ibn Ali, the grandson of the prophet Muhammed and the first Shia Imam. Barack Obama is, at least publicly, a Christian, a member of the United Church of Christ and not beholden to any Muslim sect, Shia or Sunni.

Then there is the association, perhaps more familiar to American voters, with Saddam Hussein, the brutal Iraqi dictator, deposed and eventually executed following the American invasion of Iraq. Saddam Hussein, it must be pointed out, was a secular ruler until it became politically expedient late in the game for him to embrace fundamentalist Islam. If, in fact, Obama was in league with Saddam Hussein it would not be to advance a religious agenda but rather for some other purpose, like to help Saddam obtain advanced weapons that would cement his regional hegemony. In this case, Obama might have acted as a moderating force on the hot-headed Saddam and, perhaps, eventually brought him into the Western fold. Any childhood implantation of post-hypnotic suggestions that would render Obama susceptible to Saddam Hussein’s will might, ironically, have ended with Obama being hailed as a statesman and a more stable Middle East. Who cares where Obama’s secret loyalties lie if the result is a safer, better world?

The reality of Saddam’s rule is that his power base was actually quite narrow consisting almost entirely of kinsmen from his home village of Tikrit. Everything we know about Barack Obama’s well-documented childhood and youth suggests that he has never even been near Tikrit and that he is not related, at least closely, to Saddam Hussein. If Saddam were going to plant a puppet amidst the American power elite, it is much more likely he would have chosen one of his close relatives, such as his cousin “Chemical Ali.” To refute the idea that Barack Hussein Obama and Saddam Hussein are closely related, one need only compare Obama’s smooth beardless skin with Saddam’s luxurient Village People push-broom moustache. The Illinois senator looks as though he could get by shaving once a week!

In sum, it seems to us very unlikely that Saddam would have chosen Barack Obama as a willing agent or unwitting dupe for some grand secret plan. And even if he did, so what? Obama has always prided himself on his ability as a bridge builder. What better way for an American president to build a bridge to the Iraqi people than by being able to say, truthfully, “I am one of you.”

Clearly, Bill Cunningham did not think through the consequences of attempting to connect the two men though a shared name. In his mind it was a slur (a gratuitous one, we think), pure and simple.

As for a possible connection — either through consanguinity, hidden political allegiance, or shared religious beliefs — between Barack Hussein Obama and the late King Hussein of Jordan, that possibility comes without the taint of Saddam’s brutality since King Hussein was always regarded as a force for reason and moderation in that troubled part of the world. If he or his mind-control specialists implanted any ideas or secret mission or hidden agenda in the brain of the young Barack Obama, we can be confident that like the King himself, these ideas, mission, or agenda will be sensible and tolerant ones.

– The Editors

Published in:  on February 29, 2008 at 10:49 pm Leave a Comment
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