Editorials and Opinions

Gary Tischler • March 7, 2012

I could have sworn I heard Brenda Lee making a come back, singing “I’m sorry, so sorry, please accept my apologies.”

Being sorry and apologizing has become something of a fad these days — only recently a Montana judge apologized for sending President Barack Obama an e-mail that the judge himself said was racist. He apologized and said he was sorry.

Gregg Williams, the former Washington Redskins and New Orleans Saints defensive coordinator, apologized for instituting a bounty system for both teams, handing out cash rewards to players who executed exceptionally tough hits on opposing offensive players, giving points for knockouts and stretcher-inducing hits. He said, among other things, that he was, of course, sorry.

And now, to paraphrase the late President Richard Nixon, it’s conservative talk show Rush Limbaugh’s turn in the shooting barrel. Limbaugh, whose reputation for nuance when it comes to what he says on his talk show, is nil, is up to — we believe — his third apology, 21st lost advertiser and two drops from radio stations. Quite a little fire storm in that booth.

So what did the vitriolic, bombastic Limbaugh do this time? Quite a lot. He attacked a Georgetown University law student named Sandra Fluke, who wanted to testify on why her college’s health plan should cover contraception pills.

Here are the most offensive—we think—parts of Limbaugh’s take: “What does it say about the college coed Sandra Fluke who goes before a congressional Committee and essentially says that she must be paid to have sex? What does that make her? It makes her a slut, right? Makes her a prostitute. She wants to be paid to have sex. She’s having so much sex she can’t afford the contraceptives. She wants you and me and the taxpayers to pay her to have sex.”

Later, he added that he wanted her to post videos of her sexual activities.

At first, Limbaugh said he was just trying to be humorous because he is, after all, about satire. Limbaugh’s lion-like Wednesday sermon was followed Saturday by a squeaky, mouse-like statement on his website. “My choice of words was not the best, and in the attempt to be humorous, I created a national stir,” that statement reads. “I sincerely apologize to Ms. Fluke for the insulting word choices.”

Those two words were inappropriate and uncalled for,” Limbaugh said “They distracted from the point I was actually trying to make, and again I sincerely apologize to Ms. Fluke for using those two words.”

Somehow, this doesn’t quite meet the standard for a sincere apologies, or any notion of just what a stink he made by what he said. Anybody with a daughter, a mother, a wife or just a general respect for women should be ready to burn Limbaugh’s house down. Just being satirical.

It wasn’t just the two words — offensive, vile and personal as they may be in this case.

It was the casual way they were strutted out as if it’s just the most natural thing to say about anybody.

Given Limbaugh’s status as a powerful and influential conservative, Republicans and conservatives respondedly weakly. Rick Santorum said Limbaugh’s comments were “absurd.” Mitt Romney said, “I would have said something different” or some such words, leading to wonder what that might have been. House Speaker John Boehner called his statements “inappropriate.” No, sir — wearing an orange tie to an Irish bar on St. Patrick’s day is inappropriate (and dangerous). Calling a smart, intelligent law student a slut and a prostitute — calling any woman that — is, well . . . let Don Imus say it: “Rush Limbaugh is an insincere pig, vile and gutless.”

It takes a little doing to be insulted by Don Imus, but there you are.

Or let’s hear it from Senator John McCain, who called Limbaughs’ comments “totally unacceptable” and “should be condemned by everyone. “

So there. As for writing about this matter, I hope no one was offended or upset. If so, well, you know the drill:
I’m sorry. So sorry. Please accept my apology. Thank you, Brenda Lee.

Georgetowner • January 25, 2012

Any of you who have heard me speak recently have probably heard me talk about the fact that the District of Columbia is in a better financial position than any other city, county, or state in the country.? Our finances remain strong and the development projects in our city are the envy of our neighbors.

I have the firm belief, however, that we would be doing even better if we had a more straightforward business regulatory structure and took steps to roll back some of the substantial disincentives to those who consider relocating to the District to start a business and raise a family, or who consider moving out of our city when they reach retirement age.? Therefore, in our next budget, I am recommending a number of specific proposals that I hope you will support.

First, our corporate income tax is a tremendous burden at 9.975%, much higher than the 6% Virginia charges and even the 8.25% levied by Maryland.? Particularly when times are tight, how can we expect a business to choose to sacrifice an extra 2-4% of their already slim profit for the privilege of doing business in our city?? ?I propose lowering this tax to 6%. Secondly, on a similar note, the District charges a tax of 9.975% on unincorporated businesses, while our neighbors do not.? We should phase out this tax entirely.

Third, our income tax is too high and is based on bad policy.? As I have said before, a member of the Council cannot claim to be in favor of small business and also of an increase in the income tax, which falls heavily on many small businesses.? I propose to create a more progressive income tax structure by lowering them ? those earning above $350,000 would pay 8.5% rather than 8.95%; those earning between $100,000 and $350,000 would pay 8.0% rather than 8.5%; those earning between $40,000 and $100,000 would be placed in a new bracket and pay 7.5% rather than 8%; and those earning between $10,000 and $40,000 would be taxed at 5.5% rather than 6%.

Fourth, the District made a mistake by decoupling our local estate tax from the federal estate tax.? We should eliminate the District?s estate tax to encourage our retirees to remain residents of the District, investing in our local economy and contributing to our civic and cultural life.

Fifth, we need to repeal the wrongheaded tax on formerly tax-free municipal bonds.? As predicted, the implementation of this tax appears to be resulting in an administrative nightmare.? For example, it is unclear whether taxpayers have enough information to determine whether a share held in an ostensibly grandfathered municipal bond mutual fund nevertheless has become partially taxable as the fund manager executes future trades.? This unfortunately may be just the first onslaught of many where the supposed grandfathering provision could be chipped away.

Sixth, we must sunset the sales tax increase as promised and lower it from 6% back to 5.75%. Part of why I was so skeptical of the deal to grandfather current holdings of municipal bonds while taxing new purchases is that I have been in the government long enough to see promises like this made, and promises broken.? The city promised it would sunset the sales tax increase this year, then broke this promise when the city decided it needed the money in order to pass the largest budget in our history.? We are only a quarter of the way through fiscal year 2012, and the mayor is already projecting $45 million in government overspending despite having raised every tax on the books.? This has to stop.

Gary Tischler • January 12, 2012

Just the other day, Washington Times editor, editorial writer, former child actor, Newt Gingrich aide, and literate, witty, sharp-tongued and erudite conservative panelist on the McLaughlin Group as well as husband and father Tony Blankley died of stomach cancer at the age of 63.

Around here, if you were interested in politics and liked hearing intelligent people talk even if you disagreed with them, Blankley’s passing is a loss. He had smarts and style, and passed on mean talk for its own sake, qualities rare in politics and it’s an election year at that.

Life—or rather death—goes on in the new year of 2012. People we know, have heard of, miss or not, people of achievement, and just plain old celebrities pass on and we will too in some year or another. How you view the losses depend almost entirely on who you are, what your interests are, and how old you are. Every year, artists, movie stars, athletes, heads or near-heads of government, people in power, CEOs and inventors die, alongside saints and monsters. We memorialize, remember, celebrate, and grieve for a minute or for years on end. It all depends. The passing of Mikey Welch, a bassist for the rock group Weezer, meant nothing to me, but the death of the lead singer of the Coasters, a 1950s African American rock group who churned out hits like “Yakety Yak” and “Get a Job,” did. So did the passing of Jerry Leiber who co-wrote “Hound Dog,” a signature hit for Elvis.

We all know Steve Jobs, the founder, and found again of Apple, passed on much too soon, and was mourned perhaps beyond reason, but his marketing, if not entirely invention of our daily technology of iPads and iPhones and operating systems changed the world.

I already miss Christopher Hitchens, and not just because it leaves Bill Maher all alone to claim the title of prominent, if not-so-smart, atheist.

The art world lost a lot, including right here in our own back yard—Helen Frankenthaler, for a time an honored and distinguished member of the colorist school of painters whose on genius in the drip world is a permanent contribution to a generation of artist passed away. So did the evocative, eccentric, and quite unforgettable as artist and personality Manon Cleary as well as Rockne Krebs, innovative pioneer in laser, sculptor and technology artist. Nationally, there was Lucian Freund, in-your-face portrait painter and Cy Twombly, enigmatic to the end.

Landscape architect Wolfgang Oehme died of cancer less than a month ago. With James van Sweden, the German-American founded Washington-based Oehme, van Sweden & Associates, which advanced its innovative landscaping they called “the New American Garden,” evocative of American grasslands and prairies. The team’s projects included the National World War II Memorial, Freedom Plaza and Francis Scott Key Park.

Here with a list:

Charles Percy—U.S. Senator from Illinois, Georgetown Waterfront Park booster and pioneer, and honored citizen of the village.

Sargent Shriver—Peace Corps leader and founder, one of the best of the Kennedy generation of leaders and fathers.

Elizabeth Taylor—The woman who defined what it was to be a movie star through great films and bad, numerous husbands, scandals, illness and steadfast support for helping the cause of fighting AIDS. And, oh yes, she was stunning, a Cleopatra, a cat on a hot tin roof, and making Montgomery Clift swoon in “A Place in the Sun”.

Duke Snider—The Brooklyn Dodgers’ classy heart, one of the Boys of Summer

Al Davis—Before Dan Snyder, there was Al Davis, the difference being that Davis won Super bowls and knew football.

Harry Morgan—Colonel Potter to the core and the definition of character actor.

Willie “Big Eyes” Smith —The blues

Jack Lelanne—The man that almost lived and looked good forever.

Kim Jong-il, Osama bin Laden—Still dead.

Ferlin Husky—A Country singer who still lives on those Time-Life record promotions, singing “On The Wings of a Great White Dove”.

Sidney Harman—Entrepreneur, optimist, Sidney Harman Hall and philanthropist.

Vaclav Havel—The words in his plays—were mightier than the sword and helped create the Czech Republic of which he became president, an odd turn to say the least.

Sidney Lumet—Prolific, gritty and genius-level movie director, he gave us ‘Network,’ ‘Dog Day Afternoon,’ ‘Twelve Angry Men’ and others.

Frank Kameny—Our own, enduring pioneer of gay rights.

Nick Ashford—Soulful, wonderful land charismatic writers of soulful songs with his wife .

Bill Clements—Texas governor before the ones we know.

Anette Charles—You might ask, “Who?” And I’ll tell you this: Cha Cha Di Grigorio, dancing with John Travolta in ‘Grease.’

Russ Barbour—The last of “The Four Freshmen.”

Linda Christian, Elaine Stewart, Susannah York, Mary Murphy, Diane Cilento—Memorable in their youth in the movies. Ditto for Farley Granger.

Clarence Clemons—The E Street Band’s saxophone and sound, and the boss says so, too.

James Arness—He was Marshall Dillon to Chester on ‘Gunsmoke’ and the first ‘The Thing,’ too.

Peter Falk—Colombo.

Betty Ford—First Lady as down to earth and classy.

Bill Keane—The Family Circus

Geraldine Ferraro—The first female vice presidential candidate.

Reynolds Price—“A Long and Happy Life” for an enduring Southern novelist and writer.

Joe Frazier—Foil for Ali, but one of the greatest heavyweights ever, nonetheless. Just ask Ali.

David Roffman • December 31, 2011

Let’s order the fine Christmas wine

For the Obamas while they Georgetown dine

Maybe at Citronelle, or at the 1789

The first family loves G’town, it’s a treat

We often see them at Thomas Sweet.

It’s time to pour some Christmas cheer

For Georgetowner readers, far and near.

Put spicy glogg beneath the tree

For Georgetown sage Richard McCooey.

And, garcon, Champagne brut, merci

For restaurateurs Billy Martin and Franco Nuschese.

Some festive punch on Christmas days

For John, Sharon and Samantha Hays

Sue Hamilton, Janine Schoonover, Rokas Beresniovas,

Beth Webster, Sophie Montagne and Katherine Kallinas.

And let the Yuletide trumpets play

Allegro cheers for Vincent Gray

And don’t forget to paint the town

with Jack Evans, Vincent Orange and Kwame Brown.

Deck the lamps on our throughfare

For those who really care,

Mary Meyer, Jorge Bernardo, Mary Ann Brennan,

Wendy Erlanger, Stacy Kerr and Linda Greenan.

And serve some toddy, hot and mellow,

To Ginger Laytham and her fellow.

Send Christmas cookies, and don’t be late,

To Grace Bateman, Robert vom Eigen and Ann Satterthwaite.

The Georgetown waterfront is no longer a dream,

It is now our village’s creme de la creme.

Hark the herald angels sing joyous

For GU prez John DiGioias

Thanks for all you do for our Town

Even though there are some who frown

on the Campus Plan, and all it may portend

At this time of year let’s all be of good cheer

Pour us another tall, cold, Christmas beer.

Fill a cornucopia up,

For Chichie and her pup.

Think some thoughts reflective

For bloggers Topher and Carol Joynt’s perspective.

Some holiday eggnog topped with cumin

For John Dreyfuss at the house Halcyon

And to the new owners Ryuji Ueno and Sachiko Kuno

Welcome to Georgetown, you know,

That house is Benjamin Stoddert’s old digs,

For you some Christmas dates and figs.

Sound three lusty New Year’s cheers

For BID’s Jim Bracco and Crystal Sullivan,

The time for redoing Wisc. Ave. is here

with the help of Herb Miller and John Assadoorian.

You can start by fixing the Georgetown Theatre’s neon

And bringing back a moviehouse a la Heon.

And one last Christmas wish is pending:

A hope that all Georgetowners spending

A crime-free Yule beneath their trees

Acknowledge a debt to Commander Reese,

Deputy Chief Patrick Burke and all the rest

At our Second District station, you’re the best.

And, hallelujah, say a prayer

For dedicated firemen everywhere

It’s time to end this doggerel

With Georgetowner’s wish for a fond Noel

And hopes that those whose names don’t rhyme

Will still be here next Christmastime

While all our New Year’s wishes unfold

Keep reading us for stories untold.

Merry Christmas,
David Roffman

the Georgetowner Editorial Board •

Georgetown University’s 2010-20 campus plan is now in the hands of the D.C. Zoning Commission. After all the points and counterpoints, we find ourselves not quite in agreement with anyone. We have previously stated on this page in July: “We agree that an overwhelming majority — and most definitely freshmen and sophomores — should be required to live on campus and be guaranteed on-campus housing. But 100 percent of all undergraduates? Sorry, no.”

With that said, we are in agreement with the Citizens Association of Georgetown that increased trash pick-up and improved shuttle, as cited by the university, is a less than spectacular response to the neighbors’ anger with student’s behavior after hours along their streets.

Here is but a bit from CAG of what some Georgetown residents report.

Michelle Galler: “I am writing as a resident of 36th Street, and a victim of multiple vandalism incidents involving drunk Georgetown University students. Once again, last night, at precisely 2:38 am, a band of drunken, loud students removed the plants from the planters in front of my home and maliciously threw them around the premises. They have done the same with my plantings in the past, as well as urinating on the front lawn and screaming and throwing loud street parties well into the night. . . . We are helplessly being surrounded by callous, entitled students who are not being sufficiently penalized for their bad behavior.”

Walter Parrs went further: “I have lost hope that GU will implement any enforcement plan that will address the extensive problems that Burleith and West Georgetown face. How can any university – or anyone for that matter – control literally hundreds of steaming-drunk college students spread over two neighborhoods? I understand why GU cannot propose an enforcement plan: There is none that will work.”

The university mailed brochures to Georgetown residents a month ago outlining their new efforts. The brochure displayed a headline which read: “We value you as neighbors.”

You think? Sounds kind of condescending.

We know the university is an invaluable plus to this neighborhood, Washington, D.C., and the nation. No doubt about that: one of the greatest schools in America. Its campus plan mostly gained approval from the Washington Post, which wrote in October: “Imagine a city telling its largest private employer — one that pays millions in taxes and salaries, strives to hire local residents and voluntarily does community service — that it can’t grow anymore, that it might have to cut back. That seems far-fetched in light of today’s scary economy, but it’s essentially what D.C. officials are telling Georgetown University by insisting it either house all its students or cut back enrollment. The District seems distressingly disinterested in promoting a knowledge-based economy.” Again, we find it hard to disagree with that.

Here’s the catch: students who live on campus walk back along Prospect, N and other streets from events, parties and bars. That will not change. Homeowners will hear their drunken cries at 2 a.m. It is the city, the partly youthful nature of Georgetown is a good thing. For students who live in off-campus houses and get repeatedly cited by neighbors and the likes of CAG, expulsion must be in play. (We haven’t even touched upon traffic, a new playing field or boathouse, among the many other proposals.)

University administrators must totally upgrade and update their mindset — promoting campus events, offering courses, crafting programs to its closest neighbors (not just those across the city or the globe), who are their “trustees” to the world just as the students are the university’s “representatives” to the neighborhood. We are here; we are not leaving, either. Ten-year plan? We think the university should be in close, continual conversation with local leaders and neighbors. No more closed doors: politics is local, after all. Time for the administrators to open their schools and minds to the neighborhood with an active wooing of — and union with — groups and citizens to the point that Georgetowners say, “We value you as a neighbor.”

Georgetowner • December 14, 2011

Great news!

The economy added 120,000 new jobs in November, pushing the unemployment rate down from 9 percent to 8.6 percent, the lowest since President Obama’s second month in office.

Actually, the private sector picked up 140,000 new jobs because governments laid off 20,000 people.

That should make everyone happy. Democrats need the unemployment rate to go down if they are to have a chance at keeping the White House and some voice in the Congress. Republicans will crow about the decrease in government workers. Independents, the largest political party in the U.S., tend to be more secretive about what they think, but they will let us know on election day.

But wait. The number of unemployed dropped almost 600,000, from 13.9 million to 13.3 million, but only 120,000 new jobs were created.

How does that math work?

No economist or accountant or mathematician can explain that.

Only a moviemaker can explain these numbers.

Barry Levinson, a Hollywood film producer and director with more than three dozen movies to his credit, perhaps best known for Rain Man which won four Academy Awards, decided that the economy isn’t just confusing. It’s comedy.

He revised Abbott and Costello’s famous “Who’s on First” routine to explain how the Department of Labor measures changes in unemployment.

COSTELLO: I want to talk about the unemployment rate in America.

ABBOTT: Good subject. Terrible times. It’s 9 percent.

COSTELLO: That many people are out of work?

ABBOTT: No, that’s 16 percent.

COSTELLO: You just said 9 percent.

ABBOTT: 9 percent unemployed.

COSTELLO: Right 9 percent out of work.

ABBOTT: No, that’s 16 percent.

COSTELLO: Okay, so it’s 16 percent unemployed.

ABBOTT: No, that’s 9 percent.

COSTELLO: WAIT A MINUTE. Is it 9 percent or 16 percent?

ABBOTT: 9 percent are unemployed. 16 percent are out of work.

COSTELLO: IF you are out of work, you are unemployed?

ABBOTT: No, you can’t count the “Out of Work” as the unemployed. You have to look for work to be unemployed.

COSTELLO: BUT THEY ARE OUT OF WORK!!!

ABBOTT: No, you miss my point.

COSTELLO: What point?

ABBOTT: Someone who doesn’t look for work can’t be counted with those who look for work. It wouldn’t be fair.

COSTELLO: To whom?

ABBOTT: The unemployed.

COSTELLO: But they are ALL out of work.

ABBOTT: No, the unemployed are actively looking for work. Those who are out of work stopped looking. They gave up. And, if you give up, you are no longer in the ranks of the unemployed.

COSTELLO: So, if you’re off the unemployment rolls, that would count as less unemployment?

ABBOTT: Unemployment would go down. Absolutely!

COSTELLO: The unemployment just goes down because you don’t look for work?

ABBOTT: Absolutely, it goes down. That’s how you get to 9 percent. Otherwise, it would be 16 percent. You don’t want to read about 16 percent unemployment, do ya?

COSTELLO: That would be frightening.

ABBOTT: Absolutely.

COSTELLO: Wait, I got a question for you. That means they’re two ways to bring down the unemployment number?

ABBOTT: Two ways is correct.

COSTELLO: Unemployment can go down if someone gets a job?

ABBOTT: Correct.

COSTELLO: And unemployment can also go down if you stop looking for a job?

ABBOTT: Bingo.

COSTELLO: So there are two ways to bring unemployment down, and the easier of the two is to just stop looking for work.

ABBOTT: Now you’re thinking like an economist.

COSTELLO: I don’t even know what the hell I just said!

Bingo is right! 120,000 people got new jobs last month. Another 350,000 quit looking, but they don’t count.Well, they won’t count as unemployed and won’t be entitled to unemployment insurance. But they may be entitled to food stamps, Medicaid and housing assistance. And if there’s a link between increased poverty and the crime rate, other public costs will increase.

So, the deficit will go up as the unemployment rate goes down. That’s economics for you.

Barry Levinson is right. Economics is pure theater. But is it comedy? Or drama or tragedy? Ask those 350,000 who can’t find work and quit looking.

Better yet, ask Newt Gingrich who recently proposed allowing 9-year-olds to enter the workforce.

Encore. Encore. Abbott and Costello, where are you?

Georgetowner • December 7, 2011

Superman! Faster than a speeding bullet! More powerful than a locomotive! Able to leap tall buildings in a single bound! Fighting a never-ending battle for truth, justice and the American Way!

He was Superman, and everyone knew that he would save the world.

Last August, Congress, unable to agree on how to reduce budget deficits, appointed a “Super Committee” to do the job. The idea was that 12 members of Congress, half Republicans and half Democrats, half from the Senate and half from the House, could craft a compromise that 535 Representatives and Senators could not.

World credit markets were so nervous when Congress almost forced the nation into a default that Congress passed a “lose-lose” law that included $1.2 trillion in automatic deficit savings so distasteful that it thought the Super Committee could finally make the tough choices.

This was real-life “Survivor,” like the TV shows where strangers stranded on an island form alliances to vote off others. In Survivor Congress, both Republicans and Democrats were confident that they could outwit, outplay and outlast the other side.

Had one member broken ranks and joined the other side, the consequences were dire. Sure defeat in next year’s election because all their political support and money would dry up instantly. Probable loss of both the White House and control of the Congress next year. The only hope was that all 12 suddenly and simultaneously become statesmen, setting aside their individual differences for the collective good of the country.

Despite the damage to the country, both parties were surely relieved when no one from their party broke ranks.

Who was kidding whom? The Super Committee hardly met.

Most communication was like fourth graders passing notes back and forth through others:

Sally’s note to George: Does Billy like Mary?

George’s note to Sally: Does Mary like him?

Sally’s note to George: I’ll ask her if you’ll tell me if Billy likes her

George’s note to Sally: Billy needs to know if Mary likes him first. By then, the bell rang, and class was over. Like Congress, Billy and Mary had short attention spans.

After three months of passing notes back and forth, the Super Committee finally quit. Its most difficult task was writing the note to tell the world that it quit. None of them was super enough to stand in front of the cameras with flags behind them and tell the world of its failure.

Their assignment wasn’t even that difficult. The super committee was charged with reducing budget deficits by $1.2 trillion over ten years beginning 2013. No pain this year or next.

Federal spending is approaching $4 trillion per year. So, $1.2 trillion out of $50 trillion, or more, over ten years should be doable. But, it wasn’t. Worse, they know that the real task is to close the budget gap by $4 trillion or more.

What will Congress do now? Nothing. Blame each other. Undo the $1.2 trillion in automatic cuts since no one liked them anyway. Posture for next year’s election. Watch its approval rating drop from its current 9 percent. (Isn’t that statistically the same as 0 percent?)

If the world economy weren’t in such a mess, a failure of this magnitude would probably have sent stock markets spiraling down and interest rates shooting up. Both are worse than tax increases since they reduce savings and raise prices on everything.

But, at this point in history, the U.S. economy is considered the “least of the terrible,” so money is flowing into the U.S., pushing short-term interest rates to virtually 0 percent.

Interest consumes 15 percent of the U.S. budget. If interest rates climb back to their 2006 level, the cost will be hundreds of billions a year, in fact, more than Super Committee’s $1.2 trillion target. If (when?) that happens, the only options will be steeper cuts to all federal spending programs, larger tax increases, or even more enormous borrowings to pay the cost of borrowing. The Super Committee simply lacked the courage to do the right thing.

Why was it called “super”? The only thing that was super was the extent of its failure.

Superman was everyone’s hero. He could fix anything. The Super Committee was by no means super.

Georgetowner •

Ladies, gentleman, and you rascals in the media: In the midst of hard times and earth-shaking crises, there is a raggedy circus running about the country pretending to be a race for the Republican Party presidential nomination.

It is indeed a circus, and it’s not quite so good as Ringling Brothers. It’s a circus full of acrobats trying to catch the elusive rings of leadership in the polls, flying through the air and falling into the sawdust. It’s full of screaming mimes, hucksters who can’t complete a sentence and weekly wannabes. It has clowns that scare even adults.

But the best act is the human cannon: every week or two, somebody gets shot out of a cannon and soars high into the air of the polls, anointed by MSNBC or Fox to be the leader in Iowa, if not in New Hampshire. For a brief time, the candidate will dream at night that he has been struck by lightning, hearing himself reciting the Presidential oath.

Both Bachman and Perry had their moments—Bachman’s so short that she barely had time to change clothes after a victory in an Iowan straw poll.

Up came the last star and latest victim, Herman Cain, the pizza king, carrying a populist message that the Tea Partyists ate up. He briefly led the polls, and it is entirely plausible that he too began to think he could be nominated. But, things happened, as we all knew they would, and Cain fell out of the running, which we knew he would, and so it has come to this:

Newt is the man.

Newt Gingrich is leading the polls in Iowa in the days leading up to the Iowa Caucus and in several other polls, while gaining on Mitt Romney in New Hampshire. It’s bellwether time, and its not even Christmas.

Gingrich has taken up the cause of limited government, of course, and no new taxes. He is tough but compassionate on illegal and legal immigrants, and he has also said that poor children don’t want to work. He wants to challenge the power of the Supreme Court too.

The last seems to fit what may be Gingrich’s idea of the ideal government: a Roman Republic, where he can wear the senatorial white toga. Gingrich has an autocratic bent, which goes well with his arrogance, but it should be remembered that while he has been given credit for engineering the 1990s GOP sweep of the House and Senate and helping bring out President Clinton’s impeachment trial, Clinton, even with both political hands tied behind his back, outmaneuvered Newt thereafter.
Gingrich may be the anointed one now—what else could they talk about on Meet the Press, after all? But if Mitt Romney, the genial, flip-flopping former governor of Massachusetts and successful businessman, wonders why the conservative core doesn’t like him, wait until they take a good look at Gingrich. Likability won’t be an issue.

Romney is the great magician in this eight-ring circus. Week in and week out, he smiles, he shakes hands, he attacks Obama, gives no interviews to the press (except Parade Magazine where he and his wife were photographed in jeans, which may make him look like a 99% type, as opposed to the one percenter that he is). Week after week he finishes second, stays in the mid-twenties and, while sometimes is seen to worry, always flashes those pearly whites with a steady confidence.

This is fascinating to the media roundtables, the insider beltway musers who love the show more than the real world. 

One of the more interesting things about the GOP race is that the debates and the battle for the caucuses are taking place against a background of real world and national upheaval. Take your pick of omens and portends: Egypt’s second revolution could yet produce an Islamist state; Putin’s party in Russia lost major ground in elections there’ France and Germany are trying to stave off a major debt crisis in Europe; Syria is about to topple; the ruler of Yemen is leaving; the wicked man is dead in Libya; and Saudi Arabia still won’t let women drive cars because they might have sex. These things barely get a mention in the debates. Perry is seeking to have creationism taught in schools.

Recently, like a giant balloon escaped from the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, Donald Trump, who was also at a time a GOP frontrunner, has become visible again like a Cheshire Cat, as some sort of GOP pope, insisting that the candidates should drop by Trump Tower to kiss his political ring. Or what? They’re fired?

And right about now, as he wakes up in the morning, Newt Gingrich is starting to feel a draft on his behind. That’s the nasty breath of media exposure that’s about to blow on the latest man at the top.
As the song goes: Send in the clowns… Except, in this case, they’re already here.

Georgetowner • November 30, 2011

November in Washington is winter’s harbinger and the keeper of the bitter flame for one of the nation’s most haunting and shocking tragedies, the assassination of President John F. Kennedy on November 22 in 1963.

When Kennedy was a young senator, his wife and daughter Caroline lived in Georgetown so that the memory of November 22 is keenly felt here, every year, by elder statesmen, by long-timers in the village, by what remains of the tribe of New Frontiersmen along with journalists with vivid memories of the day, memories shared by Americans enthralled by Kennedy’s inspirational rhetoric in the early 1960s. We remember the news, Cronkite’s voice, the headlines, the shooting of Lee Harvey Oswald on live television, the funeral drums, the heads of state marching on the parade route, John John’s salute, the widow in black. It was — like 9/11 — a sea change event.

Ever since then, people have been writing about that day and the Kennedys — poetry, fiction, stories, biographies, histories, books on conspiracy theories. More than that, though, the event led to a polishing and a continuing retelling of the mystique and stories not only of John F. Kennedy but of the Kennedy family — of the mafia, Monroe, plane crashes and the old man, and tales fraught with so much conspiracy, you could get completely lost. It is an endless roll call of movies, made for television movies, documentaries, music, novels, biographies, essays, musings and histories. Sometimes, the process seems to roll back on itself to the beginning, the place where hero worship and grief still lie waiting. Our imagination and memories are alive with the faces and voices — friends and foes, lovers and wives and children — of the Kennedy clan and the triumphs they achieved, accompanied by a more than equal number of tragedies which befell them. The Irish gods are not just.

Washington journalist and talk show host Chris Matthews just recently came out with a speculative book about JFK called “Jack Kennedy: Elusive Hero,” which he plugged on two of his Sunday talk shows, on the first of which he argued that Barack Obama was, well, no Jack Kennedy. The book, according to reviews, is generally admiring of JFK on his heroic quality, the PT 109 thing, the Cuban Missile Crisis and his inspiring qualities, the most affecting of which was a kind of fiery detachment.

Only recently, the prolific horror and pop culture master novelist Stephen King came out with a massive fantasy novel called “11/22/63,” in which his hero travels back in time to try to prevent JFK’s assassination. Earlier this year, there was yet another in a long series of television mini-series about the Kennedy’s which featured Tom Cruise’s spouse Katie Holmes as Jackie Kennedy. It never ends—the whole pop culture parade of all things JFK, not the mini-series.

We’ll never stop dreaming about the Kennedys. Lots of presidential wanna-bes were inspired by him—certainly Clinton was and to a degree so was Obama, or to put it in reverse, the media sometimes tries to find Kennedyesque qualities in candidates reaching for the gold ring. Ted Kennedy, who died last year as a lion of the Senate, saw something like that in Obama as did JFK’s daughter Caroline, the only remaining child and star in the Kennedy firmament these days, the keeper of the heritage flame by way of education, schools, trusts and libraries.

At the time, and in retrospect, Jackie Kennedy’s claim that the brief Kennedy era was a kind of modern-day “Camelot” was embraced by many people, and they never quite let go of it. Jackie was thinking of the popular Broadway musical of the time, starring Richard Burton, Julie Andrews and Robert Goulet as Arthur, Guinevere and Lancelot. The reality was not quite so charmed, but the idea persists centering around drama, rhetoric, inspiration — and just about the biggest collection of familial romance and tragedy, scandal and lofty ideals you can possibly imagine.

We have come around again, like Matthews, to think of the times and the family in heroic, perhaps Shakespearean and Arthurian terms, in spite of everything. No family ever endured worse scandals, more shattering tragedies and untimely, violent losses than the Kennedys and yet maintained their essential image of political class. The Kennedys were a family full of striding princes and lords, and princesses and brides, a saintly matriarch and perhaps a thwarted king who made it all happen. In this, they did resemble the Arthurian story: think of Arthur, his drugged fling with his cousin that produced an evil offspring, think of the dream of the round table, of Lancelot betraying the king and the spirit of the grail seekers, and yet it happened nonetheless: The lady rose out of the lake and caught the sword, and the quest remained and so did Camelot.

The Kennedys continue to suffer losses, and today resemble nothing less than a gathering of stately trees in our neighborhoods, their brightest foliage stripped, gone with the ongoing wind. Every time a Kennedy suffers a misfortune —Ted’s daughter Kara died relatively young this year; we remember all their misfortunes. In our heads, we remember our “sexiest man alive John F. Kennedy, Jr.,” a plane crashing into the Atlantic, his troubled wife at his side. We remember Robert F. Kennedy facing down angry crowds in Indianapolis on the day Martin Luther King, Jr., died, we remember the brothers together, sad Joan, brittle Ethel, some of the children not surviving the journey, and we remember Marilyn. We remember Ted on his first Senate run, young and green, admitting to a factory worker that he had never worked a day in his life. “You didn’t miss much,” the man told him.

I saw what was left of the New Frontier at a gathering for the funeral of Pierre Salinger in Georgetown at Holy Trinity Church in 2004. Salinger, who had been JFK’s much put-upon press secretary and had even written columns for the Georgetowner, had delivered on his promise to move to France if George W. Bush was elected in the 2000 elections and now, having died there, he was returning home. Ted Kennedy delivered the eulogy, and there was Ben Bradlee, and George McGovern, and JFK’s speech writer Ted Sorenson and they were much older, their ranks thinned and thinning, but still carried history with them like a blank check.

The ranks are thinner still. And thinking of them now, I can understand Matthew’s yearning for a JFK hero, and King’s desire to rescue the present from the past.

Somewhere, maybe, a hand rises out of a lake holding a sword. I expect it’s just a trailer for the next Spielberg movie.