Ignoble Nobelists, remembering Social Security, “I Am My Own Grandpa,” &.

December 6, 2001 9:15 a.m.

himon 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.