THE WANDERER, MARCH 23, 2006
JOSEPH SOBRAN'S
WASHINGTON WATCH
Revolt of the Sidekicks
Once again the word "impeachment" is being murmured
hopefully in Washington, this time by purring Democrats.
They're watching President Bush's poll numbers plunge,
enjoying the Republicans' discomfiture, and dreaming of
recapturing Congress in this fall's elections. The
alleged Republican Revolution of 1994 could be reversed
with a vengeance!
Now "impeachment" is one of my favorite words, on
general principles. Like the word "usurpation," it never
fails to make my pulse race and get my hopes up. An
impeachment would be some consolation for seeing the
Democrats back in power.
But of course it's improbable. If the remote threat
of it keeps Bush and the Republicans running scared,
fine, but a veteran Washington observer -- my bookie --
advises me not to count on it.
Bush, I always say, is the conservative liberals
deserve. The trouble is that so many conservatives think
he's the conservative =they= have been waiting for. In a
new book I've already written about here, Fred Barnes
argues that Bush has actually =improved= conservatism. As
Huck Finn would say, that's too many for me.
Fortunately, many conservatives are beginning to
grasp that whatever Bush has done to liberalism is as
nothing compared with what he has done to conservatism.
It's about time. These conservatives remind me of Alan
Arkin's character in the wonderful old comedy THE
IN-LAWS.
Arkin, a timid dentist, falls under the spell of
Peter Falk, a blustering former CIA man who always has a
scheme that can't fail (but always lands them both in
trouble). "Were you involved in the Bay of Pigs
operation?" Arkin asks innocently. "Involved in it!" Falk
boasts. "It was my idea!"
For five years, conservatives have played Arkin to
Bush's Falk, and after several Bay of Pigs operations,
these gullible sidekicks are finally becoming a little
wary. But of course they resist the idea of impeaching
him; they'd rather be stuck with him for the next couple
of years than let the Democrats have his head as a
trophy. So Bush needn't panic about being deserted by his
base.
After all, party loyalty trumps everything else in
Washington, except saving one's own skin, of course. If
you want a friend in this city, as Harry Truman said, get
a dog. True enough, but I pity any dog that adopts a
politician as a friend.
Whenever I write critically of Bush, I hear from
angry readers who defend him on grounds that he is "sound
on abortion" (though there is more than one opinion even
on that). I can only say that other things matter too;
the last two Popes, both outspoken on abortion, have been
firmly against warfare as a feature of the culture of
death. I wonder how many pregnant Arab women, Christian
and Muslim, have fallen under the heading of "collateral
damage."
I was about to call the Democrats the Party of
Death, but that would suggest that the Republicans
haven't deserved the name in their own way. The culture
of death has room for a two-party system. What both
parties are worrying about is whether their supporters
will keep bothering to vote.
Sports News
The current issue of SPORTS ILLUSTRATED features a
long excerpt from a new book contending, for those who
are still wondering, that San Francisco Giants' slugger
Barry Bonds owes his astounding late-career power boom to
inveterate steroid consumption. Bonds, of course, still
denies ever having touched the stuff.
Apparently he would have us believe he's just a late
bloomer whose reflexes quickened and whose muscles
blossomed after the age of 35, when most players are
facing retirement, raising his batting average and
doubling his home-run production.
It's as if I, in the twilight of my writing career,
started churning out verses worthy of Shakespeare. My
readers might demand a better explanation than weight
training.
The story is a sordid one, and not only because it
portrays Bonds as a singularly ugly personality. I
thought I was already disillusioned about professional
sports, but this was like a hard punch in the solar
plexus. The limitless avarice that has spawned drug abuse
has also motivated organized baseball, from the players
to the owners to the commissioner, to pretend it wasn't
happening even when it was becoming obvious to everyone.
Not only has Bonds been enabled to rewrite the
record book; he has made it meaningless.
The drug scandal has often been likened to the 1919
Black Sox scandal, which involved the fixing of the World
Series. To my mind it is far worse. That was an ethical
aberration that could be corrected by a few suspensions.
But the steroid subculture has long tentacles that can't
be so easily lopped off. It has changed the very nature
of what we call "sport."
Who knows? This scandal may have the healthy effect
of making people see the moral hazards of activities we
have traditionally looked on as innocent, wholesome, and
character-building. On the other hand, it has already
attracted those who see it as a promising opportunity for
yet more government supervision of what remains of "the
private sector."
And yet I still feel I owe baseball so much. As a
boy I read about it even more than I played it. I loved
it not only for its sport but for its literature, which
gave me heroic legends, hilarious stories, and a useful
fascination with statistics. Later I had the thrill
(often recorded in these pages) of seeing my grandson
become a brilliant player. You hate to say goodbye to all
that.
Dee and the Future
Recently, while doing research for my Shakespeare
novel, I did a bit of research on a curious Elizabethan
figure named John Dee, whom I use as a minor comic
character. Dee (1527-1608), nearly forgotten now, was a
noted figure in his day, making his mark in such
disparate disciplines as mathematics and astrology. He
was also involved in the quests for the philosopher's
stone and the Northwest Passage (through what is now
Canada to Asia).
Though esteemed by Elizabeth I and others, he was
also accused, but never convicted, of heresy, necromancy,
and sorcery. (Some think he inspired Shakespeare's
Glendower in HENRY IV.)
To put it mildly, Dee occupies an odd niche in the
history of science. We tend to forget how much modern
science owes to its origins in magic, alchemy, augury,
divination, and other things now considered mere
superstitions. We now have other methods of predicting
the future, but the yearning to foretell is still as
strong as ever. Nobody ever goes to jail for getting the
future wrong, and prognostication still yields large
fortunes.
One never knows what's going to happen, of course,
but my crystal ball tells me that futurology still has a
great future. My bookie agrees.
+ + +
"It's always disappointing to discover that a man
you took for a functioning moron is, in fact, a hapless
imbecile" -- SOBRAN'S. If you have not seen my monthly
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