A brief review of cursing in recent American politics, and more
The country has had a couple of “hot mic” moments lately. (I always wrote “mike,” rather than “mic” — as in “hot mike.” But the trend is entirely in the other direction, it seems to me. I especially dislike the word “miced,” rather than “miked” — “He was miced up and ready to go.” To me, this reads like the little critters who eat cheese.)
Where was I? Yes, the country has had a couple of hot-mic moments lately. After a senator, Roger Marshall, questioned him about his finances, Anthony Fauci muttered, “What a moron. Jesus Christ.”
“Moron” is what crossword-puzzle makers call a “mild oath.” (When the clue is “Mild oath,” the answer might well be “Egad.”) But a lot of people got their knickers in a twist over “moron” — people who had, all of a sudden, become delicate flowers.
Later, a Fox correspondent asked President Biden, “Do you think inflation is a political liability going into the midterms?” Biden muttered, sarcastically, “No, it’s a great asset. More inflation. What a stupid son-of-a-bitch.”
A Republican congressman, Jim Banks of Indiana, tweeted, “Have we ever seen a President attack and malign the free press like Joe Biden has??” (Not just one question mark, but two?) The congressman might like to consult the “enemies of the people.”
I think of Al Haig, Reagan’s first secretary of state. He had a reputation for opaque language. It was leaked from the State Department that he had called Lord Carrington, his British counterpart, a “duplicitous bastard.” Denying this, Haig said, “It couldn’t have been me, speaking that clearly.”
Dick Cheney, when he was vice president, told Pat Leahy, the Democratic senator from Vermont, “Go f*** yourself.” Leahy had basically said that American boys and girls were dying in Iraq so that Cheney’s Big Oil pals could enrich themselves. Then he tried to be all nice with Cheney on the occasion of a group photo in the Senate. The veep was having none of it.
Strolling I go, down Memory Lane. In the 2000 presidential campaign, Governor George W. Bush was caught in a hot-mic moment. He referred to a New York Times reporter, Adam Clymer, as “a major-league a**hole.” Standing next to him was Cheney — who replied, “Oh, yeah, he is: big-time.” This is what earned Cheney the nickname, from Bush, “Big Time.”
Flash forward to October of that year — the Al Smith dinner in New York. Candidate Bush told the assemblage, “There really is no place like New York, especially for baseball fans . . . It’s a town with so many outstanding major-leaguers: Derek Jeter, Mike Piazza, Adam Clymer . . .”
How about the older Bush? Bush 41? He had a hot-mic moment in 1984, when he was veep. The day after his debate with Geraldine Ferraro, Bush said, “We kicked a little a** last night.”
Speaking of “a**”: When President Carter heard that Senator Ted Kennedy would challenge him for the Democratic nomination in 1980, he said, “I’ll whip his a**.” This leaked — and boosted the spirits of Team Carter. If I remember correctly, the president himself would later observe that White House morale had not been so high “since the Willie Nelson concert.”
Finally, I think of Coleman A. Young, the longtime mayor of Detroit. I grew up with him (in that I was in the Detroit media market). He was a mighty swearer. A “well-chosen curse word,” he once said, could be very effective. I’ve never forgotten that phrase: “a well-chosen curse word.”
Back to Cheney and Leahy, for a minute. Will you stay with me on Memory Lane? In January 2009, shortly before he left office — shortly before Barack Obama and Joe Biden were sworn in — Cheney had a session with some of us journalists. We were sitting around a table, at the vice-presidential residence. I wrote it up, here.
“That may be what I’m remembered for,” said Cheney, referring to “Go [you-know-what] yourself.” He said, “I expressed myself rather forcefully at the time, primarily because the senator had held this press conference with his colleagues, blasting me and my affiliation with Halliburton . . . And then I ran into him on the floor that day and . . .”
Here Cheney paused. He wanted to make something clear. “We were not in session. I always emphasize we didn’t do this when we were in session. We were not in session!”
Cheney continued, “We were lining up for the class picture. Periodically, we do these pictures of the Senate,” with everybody in his chair. “We hadn’t gotten posed yet. We were still milling around on the floor. And Pat came over and put his arm around me and treated me like a long-lost brother. And, frankly, I was pissed. And so I expressed myself rather forcefully.”
The veep added something — an amiable coda: “So the relationship was strained there for a while. But we’ve overcome those difficulties. We had the Red Sox down when they were world champs, at the White House. And Senator Leahy, a noted Red Sox fan, was there that day. He’s great at taking pictures. And he took some pictures of me and provided those photographs to me, which I appreciated. It was a thoughtful gesture.”
Well, to sum up on the issue of cussing and whatnot: If someone you like does it, it’s great, or at least okay. He’s natural. He’s authentic. He’s real. He’s tellin’ it like it is! If someone you don’t like does it — it’s a horrible breach of decorum. What is this world coming to?
Very human.
• Speaking of “human”: President Trump liked to refer to people as “human scum.” He said this about his Republican critics, for example. This was not a muttered hot-mic moment. He wrote it, on Twitter. “Watch out for them, they are human scum!”
Speaking of “scum”: J. D. Vance, the GOP Senate candidate in Ohio, was endorsed by Marjorie Taylor Greene, the GOP congresswoman from Georgia. He wrote, “Honored to have Marjorie’s endorsement. We’re going to win this thing and take the country back from the scumbags.”
That’s the kind of thing that makes GOP hearts go pitter-pat (at least many of them).
• Senator Kyrsten Sinema, the Arizona Democrat, was censured by her state party. She had bucked her Democratic colleagues in the Senate. Last year, state GOPs censured or “rebuked” ten Republicans, for voting to impeach or convict Donald Trump.
I think censure, for these reasons, is bunk. I wish the parties would break the habit.
• In the Wall Street Journal, José de Córdoba reported, “Mexican Journalist Who Told Country’s President She Feared for Her Life Is Killed.” The subheading: “Shooting death underscores Mexico’s reputation as one of the most dangerous places in the world for local journalists to work.”
Four years ago, I went to Mexico to report on this issue. I did so with the help of de Córdoba and several others. My piece was “Reporting under the Gun: The lives of Mexican journalists.” One such journalist, Javier Garza, told me, “Journalists often put themselves in harm’s way by going abroad to report on a war. But here, you’re in harm’s way just by going about your daily work right where you live.”
Let me paste a little part of my piece:
. . . some journalists press on, despite the dangers. They insist on reporting about the corruption that has a chokehold on Mexico. Why do they do it?
“Because we like it,” says Javier Garza, with a chuckle. Also, it is necessary, because how can there be a democracy without a free press, or a risk-taking and striving press?
I think of what journalists like me face: “mean tweets”? nasty “comments”? a failure to get a cable “hit” at 1:12 in the afternoon or what have you? We face, we risk, nothing. And elsewhere — they risk everything, and I am full of admiration for them.
• Last week, I went home, to Michigan. At Detroit Metro Airport, I saw a guy in a Detroit Tiger cap. I thought, “Hey, there’s a guy in a Tiger cap!” That’s what I think when I’m in New York or some other city. But then I thought, “Oh, yeah: You’re in Detroit. What else do you expect to see?”
• In the rental-car agency, I saw the current AARP magazine. On the cover is Michael J. Fox — a.k.a. Alex P. Keaton and Marty McFly.
A gulp-making moment.
• I said to the woman behind the counter, “How’re you doin’?” She said, “Livin’ the dream.” I thought of a secretary I knew, long ago. I said, “Becky, how’s it goin’?” She said, “Same sh**, different day.”
• At the agency, I spoke with a man — a fellow renter — who was going to a Michigan town to see his brother. They have a tradition, these two: Every year, they watch some of the NFL playoffs together. Or all of them? I’m not sure. Anyway, a wonderful tradition.
My guy is a retired commercial-airline pilot. Lives in Minnesota. He flew jets in the Navy, which he loved. Then he was a commercial pilot for 34 years. “It was kind of boring” — which is the way we customers like it — “but the money was good.”
• Wanna see what the Crisler Center, in Ann Arbor, looks like, when the crowd stands for the national anthem, before a wrestling match between the Michigan Wolverines and the Penn State Nittany Lions?
• In the middle of the match was a ten-minute pause — which the announcer called an “intermission.” I was tickled. Bouncing between two worlds, I get “halftime” in sports and “intermission” in music. I have sometimes confused the terms — referring to halftime as “intermission” and vice versa. And here, the two worlds blended.
• You may not need to see a snowy country lane. Maybe there are plenty where you live. But if you feel like it — here you go:
Thanks for joining me today, Impromptus-ites. See you later.
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