As Is

 

This former president was once compared to a "used car salesman."

This current (as well as former) president has been compared to the president who I just told you was once compared to a used car salesman.

But it's an unfair comparison.

As you can see, he's really a NEW car salesman.

Either way, caveat emptor (let the buyer beware.)

Plains Speaking

 (In case you're wondering how I was able to write this with such supernatural speed, well, I didn't. It took me about a week way back in late February 2023, after I had heard that Jimmy Carter had entered a hospice and assumed, obviously incorrectly, that he only had a few weeks left--Kirk)  

1924-2024

Striding confidentially upon a political landscape ravaged by Watergate, the smiling peanut farmer (who had once been a nuclear engineer) seemed to have come out of nowhere. Of course, nowhere is always somewhere, and this somewhere was Georgia, where Jimmy Carter had been first a two-term  state senator, and then a one-term governor (the latter all that state's constitution allowed at the time.) Not particularly well-known outside of Georgia, he used that to his advantage in 1976 when running for president of the United States. He promised voters that he was one politician who would be "open, direct, and honest, for a change", and, by a very narrow margin, that promise got him elected to the highest office in that land. As President, his most notable success--that is, a success that everyone viewed as a success--was the brokering of a peace treaty between Israel and Egypt, known as the Camp David Accords. That was probably the high point of his presidency. He also did a number of things that attracted much controversy at the time--grant amnesty to Vietnam-era draft dodgers, cancel the B-1 bomber, push for a treaty that transferred the Panama Canal to the Panamanians--that stir up so little passion four decades later that it's easy to forget these acts were ever controversial to begin with.

 

The low points? Well, the same things that bedeviled the Nixon and Ford administrations: inflation, stagflation, and something closely related to the two: the Energy Crises. OPEC had turned off the petroleum spigot in 1973, leading to long lines at the gas station, along with a very prolonged and nasty recession (the last thing a troubled Nixon White House needed.) Carter was rightly afraid that such a thing could happen again, and went on TV early in his presidency to warn the public that the Energy Crises was the Moral Equivalent of War. He laid out some legislative recommendations. Congress dragged its feet. Part of the problem is that Carter took his campaign brag of being a Washington outsider a bit too seriously, to the point of not returning phone calls from congressional members of his own Democratic party! Instead, he seemed to want to rely on what Teddy Roosevelt had described as the "bully pulpit", a pulpit a later Roosevelt had augmented with radio, and which now could be augmented with television. Unfortunately, with every succeeding TV appearance, it seemed less like bullying on Carter's part and more like pleading. Then, starting in November of 1978, Carter's worse fears were realized when the Iranian Revolution sparked another oil shock. The long lines were back, as was the recession. In the midst of all this, Carter decided to give another speech.

The speech ran a little over a half an hour. In the interest of time, I've decided to show you the second part of the speech and describe the first part. Carter starts off by saying that this indeed was going to be yet another energy speech, but when he sat down to write it, he wondered why none of the earlier speeches had much effect. Suspecting there was something wrong with country beyond the mere price of gasoline (actually, the mere price of everything by that point), he invited people from all walks of life to a powwow of sorts at Camp David, then wrote down the things that he had heard. Many of those things, which Carter read on the air with extraordinary equanimity, were highly critical of Carter himself ("Mr President, you're not leading this nation, you're just managing the government".) After all that was done, he got to the gist of the matter:
  

So it ended up being another energy speech after all, the stuff about the mood of the country merely a prelude. But it was the prelude that stuck and continues to stick to this very day. The media quickly coined it the "malaise" speech, though that word was never uttered. Still, I don't see any real unfairness there. Malaise was as good a synonym for a crisis in confidence as any. Having been told at several points in my life that I lack confidence, I think I would have preferred to be told I was suffering from a malaise instead. As unsolicited advice goes, malaise evokes real pathos whereas a lack of confidence comes across as merely trite. But enough about me and back to Carter. The speech today is remembered as a huge blunder on Carter's part, but it's a false memory. In fact, his approval rating soared immediately following the speech. A few days later he fired a bunch of cabinet leaders in what was perhaps meant to be a show of resoluteness (someone at that Camp David powwow had told him: "Your cabinet members don't seem loyal to you",) but it came across as an administration in disarray instead, a conclusion many Americans had come to before the speech. As for the steps Americans needed to take to conserve energy, I think they were beginning to do that anyway, not out of any renewed patriotism, but as a matter of practicality. The higher the price at the pump, the higher the heating bills, the less a person drives and turns up the thermostat. Congress eventually did pass that windfall profits tax (imposed on a petroleum industry that was seen by an angry American public as making too much money off the Energy Crises) but by the time that happened, things for Carter had gotten a...

...whole lot worse.

When the news arrived that the Iranian students or protestors or radicals or whatever they were had overrun the U.S. Embassy and taken a bunch of hostages, the teenaged me wanted Carter to drop an H-bomb on Tehran. Now, before I get a bunch of angry rebukes in the comment section, let me reassure you that the late-middle-aged me disagrees with the teenaged me and is glad Carter did not do that. Call it maturity. And Carter himself showed quite a bit of maturity during that whole ordeal. And quite a bit of patience. In fact, patience became kind of a rallying cry. Guest-hosting Saturday Night Live, Howard Hesseman summed it up thusly:

HOW LONG WILL WE WAIT?

AS LONG AS IT TAKES!

SUPPOSE IT TAKES FOREVER?

THEN THAT'S HOW LONG WE'LL WAIT!

It didn't take forever. Just the better part of an...

 

...election year.

While he may have been a liberal in the dictionary sense of the word, Jimmy Carter was never truly a man of the Left. He was wary of government spending, even during harsh economic times when priming the pump was called for; eventually eschewed wage and price controls as a way of combating inflation in favor of Federal Reserve Chairman (and fellow Trilateral Commision member) Paul Volcker placing a chokehold on credit; and many of his domestic programs (energy included) involved deregulation. Yet neither was Carter a man of the Right, as any true man of the Right with a megaphone will tell you, as he had the temerity to suggest that human rights violations in noncommunist countries were every bit as objectionable as human rights violations in the communist ones. As for being a moderate or a middle-of-the roader, Carter's technocratic moralizing as civilization fell apart around him and a new Dark Age threatened (or so it seemed at the time) was too upsetting to a large enough swath of the public to be anything else but the moral equivalent of radicalism. So, if Jimmy Carter wasn't Left, Right, or Middle, what exactly was he? Simply his own unique self. A self he didn't feel the need to hide. As he had promised, he was open, honest, and direct. The things we should all want in a president. But not just those things. They should merely be a prelude.

Take it away, Gladys:

 

Just substitute Washington for LA. And I think it was a chartered flight.

Air Biden

 

Well, I watched the State of the Union address, and can now...

...breathe a little easier.

That said, I think it's best I keep this at hand:

November is still a long way away, and one needn't get complacent.

 

 

Quips and Quotations (Post-Fascism Edition)

 

 My country, right or wrong; if right, to be kept right; and if wrong, to be set right.

--Carl Schurz (1829-1906), German-born American statesman

 

Vital Viewing (Disturbing the Peaceful Transition of Power Edition)

 

 Stories vary. Some say it was when George Washington relinquished control of the Continental Army at the end of the Revolutionary War. Others say it was about 15 years later when he decided not to run for a third term as president. Either way, the man was voluntarily giving up power at a time when such a thing, however laudable, was thought to go against human nature. When word of Washington's decision got back to George III, the British monarch is said to have remarked, "If he does that, he will be the greatest man alive."

As the events on 1/06/2021 have demonstrated, this is NOT the greatest man alive.

Contrary to popular belief, an impeachment in and of itself doesn't remove a president from office. If that were the case, Mike Pence would have been president for the past year, as Trump was first impeached at the end of 2019. Also, the previous century would have ended with a President Gore in the Oval Office. No, according to the Constitution, an impeachment is simply the House of Representatives charging a sitting president of high crimes and misdemeanors, followed by a trial in the Senate. Sure, it seems unlikely that any such trial would conclude before January 20, when Joe Biden is suppose to assume the duties of president, but remember, removal from office is hardly the only punishment for sedition. What about this 25th Amendment they keep talking about? That calls for the removal of a president, temporarily or otherwise, if the vice-president and the majority of the cabinet deems that person unfit to serve for some reason. So far, Mike Pence has signaled that that's not going to happen, but who knows, he could change his mind if Trump, says, orders an air strike on the Palm Beach headquarters of the PGA. Finally, a president can just decide to take an early leave from office, as happened some 45 years ago:

How dignified he looks. Such poise. Such grace under--WAIT A SECOND! What am I saying? This is Tricky Dick we're talking about!

Compared to last Wednesday's criminality, the Watergate break-in might as well have been a parking  violation. And remember, it happened after-hours, when everyone had gone home for the night. So it was much less lethal.

 Let me get back to George Washington. On a visit to Mount Vernon with France's President Macron, Trump is said to have wondered aloud why Washington didn't name his home after himself. Trump, after all, was always naming things after himself. Towers, hotels, casinos, golf courses, even at one time a brand of vodka. And while he denied asking that his face be added to Mount Rushmore, he nevertheless tweeted that he thought it would be a good idea. George Washington, on the other hand, never asked that a city on the Potomac or a state sandwiched between Oregon and British Columbia be named after him. Nor did he ask that his face be put on Mount Rushmore, or the dollar bill, quarter, or on a postage stamp. With the exception of the city on the Potomac (he chose the location), all those things had been named and images of him placed after he died. Washington was content to let his achievements speak for themselves. Trump was incapable of such contentment, and had no such accomplishments. In the final analysis, Trump is neither a conservative or a liberal, a right-winger or a left-winger, a Republican or a  Democrat. His only ideology is--well, I'll let Irene tell you:

OK, that's a bit unfair to Ms. Cara.

As for Donald Trump, instead of fame, I suspect from here on in, he will have to settle for infamy. Baby, remember his name.

Fashion Icon

Halloween, 1962: What exactly are we looking at here? A phantom? The Grim Reaper? The Cuban Missile Crises had ended just a few days earlier, so maybe it's some kind of radiation suit, one that comes in basic black. Actually, it's none of those things. According to multiple sources, it's someone dressed as a...

 ...garment bag. You know what a garment bag is. It has a zipper and a hanger, and when you go traveling, it's what you might put a suit or nice dress in so it's less likely to get dirty or wrinkled. I don't know if it works all that well when there's a human being inside, but it's this particular individual's Halloween costume. If nothing else, it's original.

Or maybe not so original, because in this color picture, someone else decided to dress up as a garment bag, though this one was red. The two children in-between the garment bags have relatively more conventional Halloween costumes. The little boy appears to be a skeleton, and the little girl a witch. Anything else to say about this picture? Well, it's a very elegant-looking bedroom.

 Here they are again in the, um...living room? Dining room, maybe? With all that fancy furniture, it's certainly not a rec room.

 Here they are walking down what appears to be a rather large hallway, or a humongous foyer. Look at those big windows. I bet it takes a lot of Windex keeping them clean.

OK, I've kept you in suspense long enough. Let me tell you who these folks are. I'll start with the red garment bag:

It's Jean Kennedy Smith, sister of...

...the then-President of the United States, John Fitzgerald Kennedy. And the black garment bag? According to multiple sources (including the JFK Library) it's...

...none other than First Lady Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy (I wonder if Oleg Cassini designed her costume.)

As for the two children, the little boy skeleton is Steve Smith Jr., Jean's son, and the little girl witch is Carolyn, the President's and First Lady's daughter. Carolyn's brother John-John may have been too young for Halloween at that point.

However, a year later (again, according to the JFK library), John-John did indeed get into the act (looks like some recycled costuming here.)

It's nice to know Jack and Jackie weren't above having a little fun during their short stay at the White House, but the joke may have been on them, because all these years later...

...they've become Halloween costumes themselves.

Warhead of State

President Obama winning the Nobel Peace Prize made me think of my eighth-grade field trip to Washington DC. I had never been out of Ohio before. In fact, I sometimes wondered if Ohio was it . Oh, sure, I was taught there were other states, and other states were often mentioned in books, movies, and TV shows, and I knew other kids who who had been to or were from other states, but it could have been all part of a giant conspiracy designed to lull me into a false sense of security as our bus drove off the edge of Ohio and into the abyss. Fortunately, it drove into Pennsylvania instead. We spent an hour in Gettysburg, proving that place actually exists, even if Abraham Lincoln was still in question. Finally, toward the end of the day, we reached DC. Or a motel on the outskirts of DC, as it was late and we were all tired. For the next couple days, however, all those places I had only seen in books, film strips, the evening news, and in special two- or three-part episodes of The Beverly Hillbillies and Gomer Pyle, were suddenly there in front of us in 3-D. You didn't even need cardboard glasses! The Washington Monument. The Lincoln Memorial. The Capitol. We had to drive through what looked like slums to get to some of these places. I never saw the Clampetts do that. But no matter. That bit of reality meant it was just that, real. As did the crowds. Whenever sitcom characters visit Washington, the place always looks relatively empty. Oh, there are extras in background playing tourists, but they keep a respectable distance so as the regular cast members have a lot of room to make fools of themselves. In real life, you have to be careful making a fool of yourself, so as to not bump into someone with a Nikon. Washington DC was like an amusement park--lines everywhere.

The longest line was the one that snaked around the White House, the place I was the most excited about seeing. I'll get to why I was so excited in a second. But as I waited in line with my fellow eighth-graders and tourists from around the world, two things caught my attention. First, some guy was mowing the White House lawn. Over the years I've thought quite a bit about this guy. He was black, looked to be about 19, and wore a blue T-shirt with Superman's "S" on the front, blue jeans, and a pair of sneakers. He seemed neither happy nor sad about the work he was doing. Just an average guy mowing the lawn. I wondered then, and I wonder now, how did he get such a job? Did the White House advertise in the classifieds? Or did you have to "know somebody"? What was the pay like? Did he get paid more than the guy who cut the grass in front of the Capitol? Maybe he mowed both. I wonder if he ever got to meet the President. In 1976, that would have been Jerry Ford. It would have been something had Ford come out his house, walked up to the guy, slapped him on the back and said, "Son, you're doing a fine job!" and then, as he turned to go back inside, tripped over a lawn ornament (those of you either alive at the time, or who have seen an old repeat of Saturday Night Live with Chevy Chase, will get that joke.)

The other thing I noticed was that just inside the wrought iron fence that surrounds the White House, somebody had thrown a used candy bar wrapper. It was close enough that, had I wanted, I could have reached through the fence and removed it. But I didn't. It wasn't my responsibility, and, besides, there might be a Secret Service agent hiding behind a tree ready to shoot my hand off. Besides, I assumed the guy mowing would eventually make his way to that part of the lawn, and pick up the wrapper. Or, he could do it the lazy way and mow right over it, watching it shoot out the side as little paper crumbs. Suppose President Ford had come out and seen that wrapper. Would he have yelled at the guy for not picking it up immediately? Maybe he would have just walked over and picked up the wrapper himself, in the process tripping and landing face first onto the wrought iron fence (I've been waiting for over 30 years to make up my own Jerry Ford-tripping-and-falling-down jokes. Such humor played a formative part of my early adolescence.)

A bird landed on the candy wrapper and started pecking at it. The Secret Service agent I was sure was hiding behind that tree left it alone. The bird was no threat to the President. The bird didn't even know it was on the White House lawn. If it had flown over and pooped on the President's head, well, then the agent might have taken a shot at it.

The line moved along, and soon we'd be in the White House itself. I was so excited, and I'll now tell you why. It wasn't because the President signed legislation into law, or that he sometimes vetoed such legislation. I couldn't have cared less. The President's role as commander-in-chief? Close. Let's just narrow it down a bit.

The President had his finger on The Button. If he pushed that Button, it would cause a nuclear war that would destroy the world. I thought that was so cool.

Hey, I was 14 years old, OK? I also thought Fonzie, Sasquatch, the car that Starsky and Hutch drove, and slapstick passing for political satire were cool.

Besides, I didn't want the President to destroy the world. I just thought it was cool that he could destroy the world.

I fully expected that once inside the White House, the tour guide would usher us eighth-graders right into the Oval Office where the President would shake all our hands, then pull The Button out of a drawer, and place it on his desk where we all could get a good look. Not too close, as one of us eighth-graders could fall on it (though, as Ford was President, that fear was rather misplaced.)

Of course, he could decide to press The Button even while we were still outside waiting. What would happen then? Would he come out and yell to the guy mowing the lawn to get his ass into the bomb shelter? And then turn around and fall into a rose bush? Actually, he'd probably have to walk up and whisper it in the guy's ear. If he said it too loud, all us eight-graders and tourists would start panicking and climbing over the wrought iron fence to safety. There maybe wasn't enough room for all of us in that bomb shelter. The President would have no choice but to order the Secret Service and Marines to start shooting. It would have been a bloody massacre. It would have certainly ruined the field trip.

Fortunately, none of that happened. Less fortunately, once inside the White House, we saw neither The Button nor the Oval Office. We quickly passed through six or seven rooms of roped-off fancy furniture, and that was that. We might as well have been at Ethan Allen.

I later learned there's no actual Button. It's a metaphor. A short-hand way of saying that if the President wants to start a nuclear war, he can. There's actually a guy with a suitcase that follows the Commander-in-Chief wherever he goes. When the President so desires, a set of codes comes out of the suitcase. The President than gets on the phone to NORAD or wherever, the codes get punched into a computer, and the missiles emerge from their silos. Something like that. Of course, for the world to properly end, the other side has to fire back. As they no doubt would.

Given all the stupid, cruel things people do to each other, it's a bit surprising that we've never had a nuclear war. Maybe the Nobel Peace Prize should have gone to every president since Harry S. Truman, just for suppressing that inner eighth-grader and not pushing that button. And to every leader of Soviet and post-Soviet Russia. Even India and Pakistan have shown remarkable restraint.

I no longer find the proximity to power, to nuclear power, to be all that cool. If a President ever decides to push that metaphorical button, I might as well be at a rest stop on the Ohio Turnpike watching some guy mow the grass divider while a bird pecks at a candy bar wrapper in the parking lot.

The bird wouldn't know what the hell was going on, anyway.