12/22/00 10:10 a.m.
Reflections on the Oh-Oh Year
First as a journalist.

By Robert A. George, an editorial page writer
for the New York Post------------------------------------RAGGEDmail@aol.com

s this is the last regular Ragged Thots of the year (for the next eight days, check the NRO holiday special featuring the best of the year past and visions for the future), permit a bit of personal indulgence (as if you haven't been permitting it all year!).

Christmas, aside from a religious holiday, is also a spiritual moment to reflect upon the previous year. It's been a pretty good one for this columnist all things considered. In my first full year as a journalist, to be treated to the wildest, weirdest presidential election in history is a major treat.

An even better treat is having the opportunity — dare I say, challenge — to share my views here three times a week. It's been great getting to know the idiosyncratic and always intense Rob from Athens. The comments and suggestions of Rick from Dayton have also been invaluable.

Aside from those regulars, the input of the casual reader has definitely been educational. The writer learned — from a vociferous outpouring, I might add — that there is no such thing as a "semi-automatic machine gun." That mistake won't be made again. Other readers have been only too quick to correct me if they believe the writer has wandered off the straight and right path. For the most part, those readers have been very willing to engage in true dialogue. At times, they agree with me after the exchange of a couple of e-mails, or recognize that they might have misinterpreted what has been written. At other times, we agree to disagree. On the rarest occasion, they'll be satisfied with a direct comment suggesting where my thots should be stuffed. Oh, the reader who said the columnist was "an ass and a disgrace to all Republican gentlemen" could have been clearer as to exactly what was said that warranted such an upbraiding. That's not to say this reader is wrong, just that he could have been more specific. Oh well, this — as Al Gore repeatedly reminded us — is America.

Things that stood out this year:

*The two post-election "Who is Al Gore?" columns proved just how smart, well read and "well-TVed" (I know, it's a word that doesn't exist) NRO readers are.

*The fun "feud" with Mr. Lowry over Chuck "V.P. Hagel. It's okay, kids, your folks still love each other — even when we fight!

*The Goldberg-George X-men square off.

*Having the honor of finding my column "Jagged Little Pill" (the cultural impact of RU-486) posted at exactly the same time as Kathryn Lopez's Interrogatory with my namesake, Princeton professor Robert P. George. Nope, we're not related. In fact, the closest we've ever been is right here in the "pages" of NRO. Someday soon though, I'll be in Princeton or he'll be in New York. More likely though, the way these things happen, it'll be in Washington — Seattle, Washington!

When Ragged Thots officially started way back in the hazy days of March, the question was asked: "Who am I and why am I here?" Harkening back to the 1992 campaign and Admiral Stockdale, it seemed to be the correct query to raise again, as the peculiar, unexplainable success of Bill Clinton seemed to suggest the existence of an America that was unsure of itself and was trying to figure out certain fundamental ways. The election just completed indicates that this sorting out period is not yet over. Expect more jerks and jolts along the way. This columnist will diligently try to figure it out in his own oddball way.

Special thanks, of course, to the indefatigable Chris McEvoy, Kathryn Lopez, and Mike Potemra for taking these words — often at the last moment, I might add — and posting them for all the world to see (Yeah, thanks, a whole heckuva lot, guys!!). Of course, an honest tip of the hat once more to Messers. Lowry and Goldberg for making all this possible.

Anyway, it's been a real blast sharing my "thots" right here. Next year will be even more challenging without an election and campaigns all across the country providing inspiration. However, as we are a nation of men, but a government of laws, I am confident that ultimately, there will never be a true loss for words.

Finally, this column ends with what your host believes to be the letter of the year. It was sent right after the May 3rd entry, "Voices Carry," which discussed the perilous role of polling and how conservatives must deal with the reality of public opinion. Later, that day, your humble Ragged writer received this. The author has sent other letters over the period of this column's life, but this was the ten-strike. I won't embarrass him by revealing his full name (unless he wishes me to at a later date, not wanting to fail to give credit where it's due). His first name is John.

In all of the polls cited, and others withal, there is a consistent theme. The numbers are, within statistical reality, 60/40.

In all the polls when these "Gottdammerungs" strike us, impeachment, the stained dress, the missilero of the pharmaceutical factory, the polls are the same 60/40.

Sixty/forty, sixty/forty. It is like some strange mantra. Oh, it may be 61/39 (impeachment). Or 58/42 (Elian). But it rounds out to Sixty/forty. So your "public" that the Republicans need to listen to is a bare quorum. And a fair percentage of them are the "go along to get along" crowd. The group that conservatives dismiss as hopelessly out of touch. The neighbors in "1984" if you will.

While I do not discount the importance of vox populi to a Republic, I would like to make one thing perfectly, crystalline clear.

The forty is choked to our noses with the filth that is Clinton. The forty "stands athwart history" crying in the wilderness for their blind brothers to wake up and listen to the slave chains. The forty is becoming restive beyond a point that I find comfortable. And the forty are, by and large, the narod, the common citizenry that believe in basic values and do not understand such pretensions as "political correctness" and niceties of speech. They are, in fact, the poor dumpy people in the tract houses. The family that cared for Elian. The rednecks that fix your car. The Vietnam vet who sports the license plate and window sticker proudly. The forty are, in a phrase, relentlessly middle-class.

In November, the forty will vote, practically to a citizen, for Bush. Some few misguided idiots will vote Buchanan. And we hold out our hands to that 20 who jumps ship after reflection. The ones who six months or a year after the latest injustice finally awake one morning and go "Oh, s**t! The forty were right!"

But do not denigrate that forty. For the forty do not understand their brethren. They do not understand the culture that celebrates a cop-killer. They do not understand joyousness at armed entry of a peaceful home. They especially do not understand why they never, ever see their opinions portrayed by the mass media. Their forty percent opinion. They do not understand why their country seems to be sliding into an abyss.

They also do not care about the opinions of the other side. John Brown cared not a whit for the opinions of southern slave owners and it is in that exact light that many of them cast themselves. The forty is balanced on a knife edge, good sir. You really don't want forty percent of the American public literally in arms. You don't.

I hope John is somewhat satisfied with how the election has turned out. It goes without saying that he can't be completely content since the Clinton years are not completely over. The prez is about to become a talk-show host (hmmm…what have the last eight years been--an audition?) and his wife is beginning her official political career. They will always be with us.

But, at least John can take some small solace that there is some breath of fresh air about to billow through 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. (Oh, and the "60" lined up behind the prospect of Al Gore conceding at least a week before he finally did.) NRO will be there to record the trials and tribulations of the Bush administration, giving support and affirmation when appropriate and gentle criticism when warranted.

Happy holidays to John, Rob, Richard, Eric, Jeff, Ruth and all the many other Ragged readers. Thanks for your time.