First there was the flight. Then there was the flap over the
flight. Then there was the flap over the flap over the flight. Now
there is the fight over the flap over the flap over the flight.
Jeez Louise, is this a great country or what?
First there was the flight. Then there was the flap over the flight. Then there was the flap over the flap over the flight. Now there is the fight over the flap over the flap over the flight. Jeez Louise, is this a great country or what?
What else could I be talking about? Well, of course it’s the continuing brouhaha (God, I love that word; It’s one of the words that makes English worth speaking) concerning Dubya’s heroic military jet flight over yards and yards of dangerous open sea to get to the deck of the aircraft carrier Abraham Lincoln, the pointy end of which had to be angled just right so the photo-op wouldn’t be spoiled by the sight of mundane old terra firma in the background.
So first we have the rugged manly macho warrior-garbed photogenic-as-all-heck spectacle of the Chief Executive reminiscent of the combat-pilot President in the movie “Independence Day,” assuming actor Bill Pullman had backed out of the role and been replaced by Ross Perot. No politics here, no advance planning for the 2004 campaign commercials, nossir. This is just a case of the Commander in Chief sacrificing himself in order to support the troops, or at least those among them in possession of a flight deck he could heroically land on in his spiffy flight suit and shiny helmet.
Then we have the flap over the flight, where certain Senators and others complain that the Prez is outrageously, blatantly, transparently using the military’s Big Toys to give his future campaign committee some killer file-footage only available to the guy who can order people to let him do stuff like that. That was followed by the flap over the flap, in which the ever-feisty Ari Fleischer proclaims that “it does a disservice to the men and women of our military to suggest that the president of the United States, or the manner in which the president visited the military, would be anything other than the exact appropriate thing to do.” OK, so everything Dubya chooses to do is by definition exactly appropriate, and if you don’t agree, why, you’re dissing our troops. So there. He doesn’t just visit the troops, he shields himself with them.
Tempest in a teapot, the whole thing. I say, if the President likes to play dress-up, let him. Rulers of nations have many symbolic obligations, and ours is obviously attuned to them. It’s not new: Louis XIV used to occasionally dress as the sun, to reflect the splendor of France, and Caligula was fond of attiring himself as a Roman god. I mean, what’s the point of all that power if you can’t indulge yourself a little?
I think he should take the ball and run with it. For example, he could show up at the ceremonial lighting of the national Christmas tree this December dressed as Santa Claus, his authentic sleigh dangling from an Apache helicopter, with a sack full of cash-filled envelopes labeled “tax refunds” which he can throw down to the crowd below as he sails by. For the State of the Union speech the following month he could arrive at the Capitol garbed as Moses the Lawgiver in a long gray beard and flowing robes, marching up the mall through the Reflecting Pool, on which the National Parks Service has reversed the pumps so that the water parts before him.
For the Fourth of July he should pull out all the stops. Think Statue of Liberty with the spiky hat and the book on the left arm, signifying his deep commitment to education, at his feet the inscription “The Last Thing the French Did Right.” The campaign ads just practically make themselves, don’t they? It’s good to be the king.
And for Halloween …
