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Peres dissents from the Israeli government of which he is now foreign
minister. He thinks that Arafat should be spared, that Sharon would
blunder badly by routing him or eliminating him. Fine. But can’t
Peres argue his views in private governmental councils? Must his
every thought be shared with the international press, which puts
his government in an awkward position, and gives the enemies of
Israel something of an out? Shimon Peres’s ego is outstanding even
in a world of egos.
Which brings
us to his Nobel Peace Prize, won with Arafat for their Oslo-ing,
which has led to little more than Israeli corpses and enhanced Arab
cynicism. A man who would share a prize called “peace prize” with
this longtime murderer and terrorist Arafat is a man not quite in
moral balance. One of the criteria for electing either an Israeli
or an American head of state — a prime minister or a president
— should be, “How much does he want the Peace Prize?” And if
he wants it too much, the voter should look out. It was widely reported
that Nancy Reagan was all hot for her husband to win the prize,
to seal his “legacy”; but Reagan’s was the kind of peace that results
from an insistence on freedom and rights.
National
Review — in one of its memorable remarks — said that
the U.S. military, every year, should win the Peace Prize, as the
world’s most reliable guarantor of peace.
Shimon Peres
is far from the worst man to win the prize. Is it Arafat? Maybe.
The prize was once given to a member of the Central Committee of
the Communist Party of the Soviet Union (a man who belonged to the
absurd group Physicians Against Nuclear War, I believe). The prize
was also given to the Vietnamese Communist Le Duc Tho.
There is a
line famous on the left: “Once they gave the Nobel Peace Prize to
Henry Kissinger, I stopped believing in anything.” Funny, but our
liberals never found it odd that, in that same year, the prize was
given to Le Duc Tho, a man who stood for — who represented,
who worked for — the “peace” of the grave, the “re-education”
camp, and the totalitarian state.
Anyway, back
to Peres: One has long had — okay, I have long had — the
unsettling feeling that he cares as much about his world reputation
as his own country’s security, well-being, and survival. Is that
scandalously unfair? Maybe — but it is, again, my “unsettling
feeling.”
More than a few readers have suggested to me that perhaps now is
the right time for our government to move our embassy in Israel
to that nation’s capital, Jerusalem. It would certainly be a symbol
of solidarity; and it would be a sign that, in the eyes of America,
Israel is here to stay, not a temporary experiment, subject to overwhelming
by a world that hates it.
But to repeat
a wish I have expressed in this space before: At least no
American candidate for president should claim to want the embassy
moved if, in fact, he’s not going to do it, once in office. Have
a little respect.
We are repeatedly told that, after 9/11, the previous “agenda” had
to be dropped. Take Social Security reform — or not. What hope
is there now that Bush will labor to achieve it, or even think about
it? The commission that he appointed seems to be breaking down,
not united as to how to go about the reform. I always thought this
commission was a mistake, if only because ex-senator Moynihan was
tabbed to head it; there is a man who often wobbles or runs when
the chips are down. And a commission signals to the world: “I’m
not so sure.” And Bush and his people are sure, given all
the thought and energy and passion and conviction they poured into
this in 1999 and 2000.
If any item
on the “pre-9/11 agenda” deserves not to be dropped, it’s Social
Security reform. This may prove G. W. Bush’s greatest “legacy,”
to go with the elimination of the terrorist threat, and the building
of a missile defense. Bush stuck his neck out — way out —
in the campaign when he advocated the reform of Social Security.
My guess is that he would have garnered more votes if he hadn’t
been so bold and responsible about this hoary, hallowed, and hooey-filled
program. The privatization — even partial — of Social
Security would almost surely make Americans wealthier, more independent,
and more equal. (It would make them less dependent on the federal
government, which is why many, though not all, oppose it.)
This is simply
too important to let slide, and all those who care should shout
about it, even over the awful din of the bombs.
Ah, Racicot, why’d you take a dumb party job instead of challenging
and beating Sen. Max Baucus in your home state of Montana? I mean,
if you wanted a job in politics, why not senator, instead
of this pissant thing, where you’re Karl Rove’s errand boy instead
of something big and breast-beating? (Memo to any concerned: I myself
would be delighted to be Karl Rove’s errand boy.)
Dunno about
you, but I’m frequently dismayed that those who ought to run for
office, don’t. Racicot should go in Montana. Steve Forbes should’ve
gone against Jon Corzine in New Jersey — zillionaire versus
zillionaire — and he should go against the Torch (Bob Torricelli,
the plainly corrupt senator up for reelection next year) now. (Actually,
Forbes would have had a better chance of beating Corzine than he
does of upending the Torch, in my view.)
But then: It’s
their lives, of course. If I could boss people around, Bill Bennett
would have been Bob Dole’s running mate in 1996, and Gary Larson
would still be doing “The Far Side,” and Berkeley Breathed would
still be doing “Bloom County.” (Where have you gone, brilliant boys?)
More on the saga of René Montes de Oca Martija, the jailed
Cuban dissident whom I was able to interview earlier this year,
and whose terrible fate I have been chronicling. His latest sham
of a Communist trial was held on November 29. His official sentence
is one year and four months. His brave and marvelous wife, Esther
Valdez, was present in the courtroom, along with other oppositionists.
When the trial ended, they yelled, “Long live human rights!” Several
hours later, they were seized, taken to the local office of the
National Revolutionary Police, and fined — while being warned
that if they engaged in such outbursts again, they would be imprisoned
for a long time.
Yes: Long live
human rights.
In my previous Impromptus, I referred to a Marine as a “soldier”
— which prompted roughly 6,238,091 outraged e-mails, mainly
from Marines, but also one or two from Army soldiers. I meant “soldier”
in the generic sense, meaning a member of the military. But for
the sake of our computer server here, I’ll be more careful next
time.
Also in a previous Impromptus, I wrote of the difficulty of buying
certain items not made in China, and of the efforts of readers who
went way, way out of their way to avoid “buying Chi-Com,” as one
of them memorably put it.
This prompted:
“You may be interested to know that K-Mart’s Trim-a-Tree section
is selling Nativity scenery made in . . . guess where? Nativity
scenery has to be about as Christian as you can get. Maybe China
makes rosary beads, too.”
Funny thing
about that is that, shortly after, I got this other e-mail:
“I have an even more outrageous example of buying Chinese. I was
at Sunday mass and had forgotten my rosary. I noticed a small basket
containing free plastic rosaries. I took one and later noticed a
stamp on the back of the rosary saying ‘Made in China.’ I was
horrified and flung it back into the basket. China routinely persecutes
Catholics and we purchase rosaries from them.”
Another correspondent
said, “After reading your column, I went to take a drink from my
coffee mug (received several years ago) and remembered that it too
was made in China — the irony being that it was sent to me
by a veterans group (stemming from a donation) and has a ‘POW/MIA’
stamp and the words ‘We Support Our Veterans’ on it!”
Wrote a reader
from Georgia (in the American South, not the former USSR), “I have
been avoiding Chicom products for the past five years or so. It
isn’t easy, and I don’t know if it makes much difference, but I
feel better. By the way, if you see a stainless-steel slotted spoon
that has not been made in Communist China, let me know. I’ve been
looking for one.”
And then there
was this, most touching note (which took me a couple of seconds
to get): “I shall be making a major purchase from the PRC in February
of next year. While it does distress me to be forking over my hard-earned,
wealth-generating-sector money to the Red Menace (or is it the Yellow
Peril?), I’m quite sure that my adopted daughter will be thankful
for my actions.”
Feel free to
“ahhh.”
Remember the man who was suing the strip club because a stripper
had nicked him with her high heel, while swinging on a pole? I said
it was a high example of the new American litigiousness.
A reader from
Canada wrote to say that it was a British Columbia case instead
— an example of an Americanized Canadian litigiousness!
The Reuters clip he sent said, “A Canadian man has sued a Vancouver-area
strip club, claiming he was injured by a ‘reckless’ exotic
dancer who kicked him in the head. Greg Bonnett is seeking unspecified
damages from the Barnet Motor Inn, claiming it was negligent in
not posting prominent signs warning the public of the risk of sitting
too close to the stage.”
As the comedians
say, you can’t make this stuff up.
Oh, hang on,
there’s more: “Bonnett was in the New Westminster club on Nov. 29,
2000, when a female dancer swung around a pole and kicked him, fracturing
his nose, according to the lawsuit filed on Tuesday in the British
Columbia Supreme Court. The Coquitlam man’s lawsuit also seeks damages
from the dancer, identified only as ‘Jane Doe,’ for allegedly
‘dancing in a negligent and reckless manner.’”
Oh, Canada.
I relayed in the last Impromptus a really dumb comment by Larry
King, to wit: “Bums in New York are literate. Bums in New York could
run a grocery chain in Des Moines.” This inspired some interesting
mail, including from an industrious reader who looked up some academic
test scores: Iowa, needless to say, kills New York in the
important categories. It’s not even close.
Another reader
wrote to say, “Your quote by Larry King also shows how dumb some
people are about running a business. One trait necessary to run
a business is discipline. I wonder if Larry King would say New York
bums could do or help do his show?”
Hmmm. But my
favorite note came from the reader who said that, for all his offensiveness,
at least Larry still said “bums.”
So true.
I have been harping a lot on what my colleague Kate O’Beirne has
identified as the “mindless and false egalitarianism” of our airport-security
regime, and I thought I’d share the following interesting letter,
from an astute reader: “I traveled to Orlando from Dayton, through
Cleveland, last week. I watched the searches — especially the
‘random,’ really detailed ones — with interest, to see
if they profiled people according to appearance, etc. I saw only
one person who was not white and middle aged tapped for the detailed
inspection. The one exception was noticeable in the amount of noise
he generated while complaining. This was based on only a few hours
of observation. However, I came to the conclusion that people were
being selected based on their inclination to comply peacefully with
the search.”
On Monday, I transmitted the “Fun Fact” that Osama bin Laden is
married to a daughter of Mullah Omar’s; and that Omar is married
to a daughter of Osama’s. Therefore, each man is both father-in-law
and son-in-law to the other.
More than one
reader — really, more than one (two) — thought of the
old, beloved song, “I Am My Own Grandpa.” Would you like to see
the lyrics? Surely:
Now many,
many years ago, when I was twenty-three,
I was married to a widow who was pretty as could be.
This widow had a grown-up daughter who had hair of red.
My father fell in love with her, and soon they, too, were wed.
This made
my dad my son-in-law and changed my very life.
My daughter was my mother, ‘cause she was my father’s wife.
To complicate the matter, even though it brought me joy,
I soon became the father of a bouncing baby boy.
My little
baby then became a brother-in-law to Dad,
And so became my uncle, though it made me very sad.
For if he was my uncle, then that also made him brother
Of the widow’s grown-up daughter, who, of course, was my stepmother.
Father’s
wife then had a son who kept him on the run,
And he became my grandchild, for he was my daughter’s son.
My wife is now my mother’s mother, and it makes me blue,
Because, although she is my wife, she’s my grandmother, too.
Now if my
wife is my grandmother, then I’m her grandchild,
And every time I think of it, it nearly drives me wild.
For now I have become the strangest case you ever saw:
As husband of my grandmother, I am my own grandpa!
I’m my own
grandpa.
I’m my own grandpa.
It sounds funny, I know, but it really is so.
Oh, I’m my own grandpa.
A reader in Japan writes, “I believe you have been hoodwinked on
the issue of Scotland Yard cracking down on ‘MTV-inspired’
gang violence. MTV actually censors all images of and references
to gang violence in all videos it airs. . . . The same goes for
drug references. While this makes some videos sound like a conversation
over a bad cell-phone connection, MTV has indeed bent over backwards
to avoid promoting violence. . . . Indeed, the real reason to hate
MTV is that it goes too far in the anti-violence direction. In the
post-9/11 era, MTV has been a ceaseless torrent of cries for ‘peace,’
in opposition to U.S.-led strikes against the Taliban.”
Another reader
wrote “regarding the rap industry and its negative effect on culture:
At work, I deal directly with criminal youths. The rap culture clearly
is a contributor to most, if not all, of these adolescents’ wrongdoings,
be it robbery, drug use, or general thuggery. It is almost as though
these adolescents are brainwashed by the messages spewed by the
rap. Many things contribute to adolescent crime: drugs, lackadaisical
parenting, ineffective schooling, poor police procedures (though
little fault falls on the police themselves), the self-esteem movement
(many of these narcissists hold themselves in too high an esteem),
therapists (i.e., social workers), television, movies, a lack of
the transcendent, etc. At, or near, the top of the list must be
the rap culture.”
Finally, a return to Silvio Berlusconi, Irving Berlin, and friends.
What do I mean? A few weeks ago, I praised the prime minister of
Italy for his staunch and stirring support of the U.S., and I singled
out his words, “Europe knows how much it owes to America. We have
to remember not to forget.” I was struck by that simple and profound
phrase: “to remember not to forget.” A reader then pointed out the
devastatingly good Irving Berlin lyric, “You promised that you’d
forget me not / But you forgot to remember.”
Another reader
now wishes to record that “there is an old beer-drinking country
song titled ‘I Forgot to Remember to Forget.’” Still another
reader cites a Bob Dylan song that includes the line, “Someday maybe
I’ll remember to forget.”
But the cake,
in my view, goes to the reader who contributed the e. e. cummings
poem that begins “anyone lived in a pretty how town.” The sixth
stanza goes
stars rain
sun moon
(and only the snow can begin to explain
how children are apt to forget to remember
with up so floating many bells down)
Thanks to all.
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