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August 8, 2002 9:00 a.m. The Prague Connection, from tee to green, DiFi’s blunder, &c.

uys, this’ll be a quite letter-heavy Impromptus, because there are some gems to share. But first, a couple of notes all my own.

For the past many months, there has been quite a to-do over whether the 9/11 terrorists had anything to do, directly, with Saddam Hussein. Did Atta meet with an Iraqi agent in Prague? That was the great Czech question. So much seemed to hinge on it. Much ink was spilled over it.

The White House, the other day, settled the question, from the political and strategic points of view: Yes, it said (that great “it” that is the White House), Atta and the Iraqi had huddled in Prague. The CIA is fuming: “Inside sources” — those vague but real people — say that important elements in the Agency are bound and determined to prevent any action in Iraq, and that denying a 9/11-Saddam connection is part of it.

I just want to draw attention — for more than self-tilting reasons — to my recent interview with Condoleezza Rice, excerpted in the current NR. The good doctor was asked, straight out, whether we needed anything more on Iraq, in order to confront that regime seriously. And she gave a marvelously clear answer: Saddam Hussein, beyond question, is an international menace. And the burden of proof is on him — not us — as to his fitness to remain a national leader. And “he is failing that burden of proof.”

Besides, she said, while we talk of the risks in confronting Iraq — and we should talk about it — it is equally wise to remember the risks of doing nothing.

So, what Atta did with whom in Prague is immaterial (or “invenereal,” as an old golf buddy of mine used to say). Relieving the world of Saddam is right for its own sake, particularly as he drives toward weapons of mass destruction — which he wouldn’t allow merely to sit around and look pretty.

Look, I know mockery isn’t nice, but please forgive me. I’m talking about the New York Times, and the recent report of its White House correspondent from the links in Kennebunkport, Maine. The report said,

Sometimes business intrudes on the green, and not always smoothly. Before starting his game yesterday, Mr. Bush, his driver in his left gloved hand, took time to condemn an overnight suicide bombing. . . . “I call upon all nations to do everything they can to stop these terrorist killers,” Mr. Bush said on the first green of Cape Arundel, at 6:15 a.m. “Thank you. Now watch this drive.”

One drives from a tee, or a tee box; one putts on a green. Later, the report said, “Watching the Bush group play . . . was to watch a commotion, with people putting before others had finished — a practice anathema in a serious game.” I’m afraid I have no idea what that means. Before others had finished what, exactly?

Finally, the report said, “. . . Mr. Bush plays golf to spend time with his father, 78, who got off a good drive on the first green on Saturday.”

I know, I know: I shouldn’t snort. But this is the New York Times — the big leagues, the top! Come on, y’all! It’s one thing to be left-wing, but absurd? (Oh, hang on . . .)

More Times talk. The paper’s story on John Dingell’s defeat of Lynn Rivers in the Michigan district encompassing Ann Arbor, my dear old hometown, said, “[The race] displayed the rift in the Democratic Party between an old-style union machine and a younger, more intellectual liberal wing, particularly about issues like gun control, abortion and the environment.”

Friends, I was raised by Ann Arbor liberals; was educated by them (sort of); was enmeshed with them. I’m not sure there was anything “intellectual” about them. I’ve since known a few intellectuals: particularly at my places of employment, The Weekly Standard and NR. Ann Arbor? Wouldn’t have thought of the word, actually. “Jacobin” comes to mind.

Received something funny from an NR reader. It was a response to a letter of his from one of his senators, Dianne Feinstein, Democrat of California. The senator wrote,

“Thank you for contacting me regarding the delay in filling federal judicial appointments. I appreciate your taking the time to share with me your opinions on this issue.

“I share your concern about the delay in the confirmation of judicial nominations. Under the Republican majority in the Senate, confirmation of judicial nominees has slowed dramatically. I fear that the politicization of the judiciary will have dire consequences on the distribution [distribution?] of justice across the United States.

“The need for judges is critical. In the Ninth Circuit, for example, over one-fifth of the 28 judgeships are vacant. Each one of these positions has been vacant for so long it is considered a judicial emergency. As soon as these positions are filled, the Ninth Circuit will be able to hear 750 more cases per year.

“Again, thank you for your letter. I assure you that I am aware of the shortage of judges around the country . . . and am working hard to try to resolve this situation.”

Oops: Someone mailed an old form letter, from the time of the Clinton administration. The Democratic tune has changed now (and so, to a lesser extent — much lesser — has the Republican). There must be a new form letter somewhere in the Feinstein office, speaking of the danger of right-wing, Constitution-hating judges — Klansmen, really — and the need to block them. The Feinstein staff’ll have to look sharp.

I know a little something about answering constituent mail — it was my main duty when I was a tender intern in the office of . . . Sen. Robert J. Dole. Time was, I had a nice little repertoire of small Kansas towns in my head.

In the previous Impromptus, I spoke of the new deputy assistant secretary of defense for East Asia, a man who’d served on the National Security Council staff under Reagan, and also in the CIA . . . and asked, “But why does he have to be named Lawless [Richard P.]?”

I received the following note from an Impromptus-ite:

“Perhaps they could appoint me instead. [Signed,] R. Bruce Looney.”

The below fascinated, particularly after I read the short story in question:

“I was reading Impromptus this morning, and the section on standardized tests really struck me as the point behind all of the attacks on these tests. It also reminded me, all of a sudden, of an experience I had in junior high. My English teacher had us read the short story by Kurt Vonnegut called ‘Harrison Bergeron’ [found here]. I won’t go through the details, and you have probably read it [not true]. The story is supposed to be a warning about how the government could take control of all aspects of equality and how terrible that would be. I remember someone in my class asking the teacher, ‘What kind of government would want to do that?’ and the teacher replied, ‘Republicans.’ I only now see how sad that statement was, and now years later I believe that most people are brainwashed to think that way about conservatives in general. I believe the short story serves as a warning about things like affirmative action, quotas, etc. I hope that junior highs and high schools still require ‘Harrison Bergeron’ as class reading.”

It is a rather amazing thing, this Vonnegut story, particularly in light of social developments over the last decade or so.

But wouldn’t Vonnegut die to know that his stuff was being touted on NRO?

Writes a reader, “Your column today made me think of an incident from two summers ago, when I was at CNN. We were celebrating the network’s 20th anniversary with a party in a restaurant, and of course they played a tape of ‘great moments in CNN’s history.’ Early in the tape was a clip of Lloyd Bentsen in 1988: ‘Senator, you’re no Jack Kennedy.’ That brought the house down with cheers and clapping. A few minutes later came a clip of Reagan: ‘Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall!’ On purpose, I went nuts, cheering and clapping. One other person in the room joined me. I guess nobody else thought that was a very important moment in history. I wonder which quote the folks who lived in Berlin would think was more important.”

Perfect.

Over a series of columns, we were talking about silly restrictions in classified advertising: Can’t say “scenic views,” because that discriminates against the blind, and can’t say “within walking distance,” because that discriminates against the lame.

A reader writes, “Couldn’t we get around these rules by saying ‘within wheelchair distance,’ or would the perpetually sensitive think we were making fun of them? BTW, due to the ’40s polio epidemic my mother was confined to a wheelchair the entire time I knew her, and while she frequently complained about using restrooms that appeared to have been designed by Boeing engineers, such silliness as objecting to ‘within walking distance’ would never have occurred to her.”

We were talking, too, about the national anthem, about the flag, about the “new patriotism,” and other things. Some choice missives:

“Last Friday I filled in on guitar for a jazz group of mostly high-school kids who were to perform at a nearby retirement home. Since I’m two weeks from turning 40 I was at first uneasy about being the only musician with a valid ID but reasoned that at least the audience would see me as a kid, and, after all, kids eager to play jazz from the Forties deserve credit!

“Upon my arrival I was surprised to discover a crowd of at least 150 seniors, some with walkers or wheelchairs, and all of them dressed in their Sunday best. As the band leader handed me my charts of ‘Honeysuckle Rose’ and other standards, she said that we would finish up with ‘America the Beautiful’ and then segue into the Star-Spangled Banner, because ‘the old folks will like that.’ I wondered to myself whether those songs would’ve been chosen had Sept. 11 not happened.

“We performed for an hour, and they loved us. It was as if everyone in the crowd were our grandparents and we could do no wrong in their eyes.

“Finally it was time for the Big Finish. It wasn’t until about halfway through the anthem that I happened to look up from my music and see nearly everyone standing. Standing! Without being implored by the announcer to ‘please rise and remove all caps’ like at a ballgame! They simply heard the opening notes, and everyone who was capable rose up as proudly and as upright as their old bones would let them.

“Needless to say I was quite moved.”

And:

“Your bit in the latest Impromptus about the playing of the national anthem in military base theaters brought back a great memory. About eight years ago, my wife and I and our two young sons (6 and 3 at the time) had just reported to our new duty station in Sasebo, Japan. We were enjoying a late-afternoon/early-evening picnic on the base, and when it was time to leave my wife called the two boys, who were playing on the other side of the park. We could see them and we knew they could hear us, but they didn’t respond and kept facing away from us. As I walked toward them, I realized what they were doing. They had heard taps playing and had stopped, removed their caps, and stood at attention, facing in the direction of the music. In my 18 years in the United States Navy, I have had many proud and patriotic moments, but that one ranks among the best.”

And:

“When I was at Valley Forge Army Hospital in 1971 (not due to a combat injury), I attended several movies in the post theater. Like most, it had a sloping floor down to the front where several rows were on flat floor. Those seats had been removed and room made for the guys in wheelchairs. Pointing even a little downhill in a wheelchair is uncomfortable, as well as requiring brakes to be locked.

“Before the movie, of course, the Star-Spangled Banner was played and everybody stood, even the guys in the wheelchairs, if they could, even if it required arranging with a more mobile buddy to help them stand. When the anthem was over, the guys were helped to seat themselves and their buddies returned to the conventional seats. Nobody said anything about it. I guess nobody saw anything about it requiring comment.”

How ’bout this?

“As an ROTC Cadet at the University of Iowa in the late ’70s, early ’80s, I heard ‘baby burner’ among other things on a regular basis. One of my classmates came up with a perfect rejoinder that seemed to quiet them down: ‘Nah, I’m up to 20-year-olds. Got a match?’”

And our Hombre of the Week (or was it Month?), the man in British Columbia who fended off a cougar with a pocketknife?

“Mr. Parker was extremely lucky that the cougar in question decided to attack him in B.C. If, say, he had been attacked in a U.S. national forest, he would face a misdemeanor charge of destruction of federal property, a felony charge for killing endangered wildlife, a weapons charge for having the knife on federal land, a state hunting-without-a-license charge, and a PETA protest for not sacrificing himself to the naturally acting cougar.”

Yup.

And, to close, a little language:

“I was in the hospital recently and thought of you [uh-oh]. I had just received an injection of fluid so the radiologist could see how much blockage a recently discovered kidney stone was causing. The nurse asked me if I was having any reaction to the injection.

“‘I am nauseous,’ I replied. Without a moment’s hesitation she responded, ‘You mean you are nauseated?’ ‘Yes, nauseated.’

“Golden. Thoughts of Impromptus reaching even into radiology.”

Oy, vey. I’m no scold, just someone keeping himself entertained!

Hope you’ve been, too — entertained.