From time to time, I write about Ann Arbor, Mich., my dear hometown. What’s it like, politically? Um: It ain’t exactly Provo, Utah, put it that way.

Anyway, Ann Arbor had a Fourth of July parade last week, and, according to a friend of mine, one float had President Bush as a vampire, biting the neck of the Statue of Liberty.

When I told my friend Rick Brookhiser about this, he had a nice remark: “Well, at least they like the Statue of Liberty.”

‐And speaking of Rick’s bons mots: He asked me the question, What is the difference between the doctors’ plot (British Muslim) and the doctors’ plot (Soviet Jewish)? There are two differences: The Jews were innocent, and the Jews were executed.

‐I’m sorry, but I had to chuckle, just slightly, when I read an early report on the London terror business:

“‘Forensic staff are still examining the device, but once we know more about it, we’ll know more about what type of individuals are behind this,’ a British security official told The Associated Press . . .”

Um, I’m no Sherlock Holmes, but I had an idea what type of individual was behind this.

Sorry.

‐A man well plugged in to matters Middle Eastern tells me that Israel is assuming that the United States will not, in fact, do anything about Iran’s nuclear program — and that Israel itself will have to take care of the problem, if it possibly can.

Wouldn’t that be something? America is the sole remaining superpower, and stopping the mullahs is a vital American interest. Israel — alone — had to stop the early-1980s nuclear threat in Iraq. Must the Iranian problem fall on Israel’s slim shoulders now?

It would be unmanful and unseemly, I believe, for the U.S. to deflect this task. This is a job for the Great Satan, not the Little Satan. I do not say — at least not yet — that America must deal with the problem militarily. But that we must deal with it — that it is our destiny and responsibility — seems to me fairly clear.

You?

‐One more point about Israel: It’s not like it doesn’t have enough on its plate at the moment — you know? — with all those lovely (immediate) neighbors.

‐I acknowledge the existence of Jesse Jackson, but I wonder whether Sen. Joseph Biden (D., Del.) is the crudest politician alive. He is endlessly coarse, tasteless. Just recently, he said of President Bush, “This guy is brain-dead.” He then said, “I can hardly wait to debate Rudy Giuliani if he is their nominee — because I will eat his lunch.”

Tough, tough guy, Joe Biden. And all class, no?

A few months earlier, he was at that fish fry, swaggering around, saying, “We’re gonna shove it down his throat.” (The throat was Bush’s, and the “it” was Democratic Iraq policy.) (You can see it on YouTube here.)

Interestingly enough, Biden is considered, by the Democrats and their media allies, a statesman. I guess they don’t make ’em like Henry L. Stimson anymore.

And listen: I realize we have some cringe-makers in the Republican party. But at least Joe Biden is one of theirs, not one of ours! And I wonder whether even partisan Democrats ever feel embarrassed by him.

‐I can’t remember whether I mentioned Manuel Acosta Larena in columns past. Anyway, he’s dead now. He was a very brave Cuban, belonging to the dissident group called the Democracy Movement. He died in the hands of Castro’s police. The police claimed it was a suicide — that Acosta hanged himself in his cell. His friends doubt it. And the authorities won’t hand over the corpse for an autopsy.

Of course.

The history of Communism has taught us that suicide can be a very strange event. For example, you can shoot yourself in the head — four times.

I was hoping to meet Manuel Acosta, but never got the chance. I’m glad I knew of him, though, while he was alive and kicking, and fighting. And all well-wishers to freedom should remember him, somewhat.

‐Above, I mentioned a parade in Ann Arbor. Want to talk about another parade? This one is much bigger, the Tournament of Roses Parade, in Pasadena, Calif. I’m sorry to say that the PRC has entered a float — something about their Olympics, coming up next summer. And Chinese Americans and other decent people have protested the entry of this float. (For a story, go here.)

I know which side I’m on. Hint: Not that of the butchers and torturers in Beijing. Pasadena should say to them what they, China’s rulers, say to democrats, religious folks, and non-conformers: To hell with you.

‐Was amused to see Time magazine’s cover line on Rupert Murdoch: “The Last Tycoon.” Reminded me some of “The Last Romantic.” All my life, pianists have been described as “The Last Romantic.” I’ve known about 20 “Last Romantics.” Oddly enough, there is always another Romantic — and there always will be.

And, no matter what our economy, no matter what the world looks like, there will always be tycoons. For good and ill.

‐A little language? Years ago, an editor opined that the most misspelled word in the English language was “desiccated.” People always want to throw two esses in there, and one “c.” I was reminded of this yesterday when a superb writer — and expert speller — sent us (us NR) something with “dessicated” in it.

But it’s not the most misspelled word in the English language. (For one thing, it’s too rare a word to merit the title.) I know what the most misspelled word is. I couldn’t be surer of it. In the years 1998 and 1999, I edited about 4 million pieces with the word “millennium” in it — only it was spelled “millenium.” The finest writers in the English-speaking world — at least the conservatives among them — sent in “millenium,” just the one “n,” over and over and over.

So very, very odd.

I’m afraid I have no insight to share. Just reportin’ something to ya.

‐Incidentally, do you know what the most mispronounced word is? I’m not 100 percent sure, but I think it may be “mispronunciation.” Repeatedly, I hear “mispronounce-iation.”

‐Watching the Wimbledon final on Sunday, I heard that Rafael Nadal is the only man ever to win three Grand Slam titles without ever being the number-one-ranked player in the world.

And that reminded me of something I had just written — about singers:

Bear with me for a second. Some years ago, the golf star Lee Trevino was asked how he wanted to be remembered. He said (and I paraphrase), “As a champion in the Nicklaus era.” Well, Irmgard Seefried was a champion in the Schwarzkopf era. Both she and Elisabeth Schwarzkopf were German lyric sopranos who shone in the 1940s, ’50s, and ’60s. They sang essentially the same repertoire. They even made a duets album together, one that is findable today (on EMI’s “Références” label).
Now Deutsche Grammophon features Seefried — who lived from 1919 to 1988 — on a two-disc set. She sings songs from Mozart to Bartók, accompanied by the late Erik Werba, a master of his craft. And Seefried is exemplary: in intelligence, voice, technique, and taste. To speak personally, she is one of my favorite singers — long has been. You can learn a lot from her. And you can enjoy her no end.
Was Trevino as great a golfer as Nicklaus? No. Was Seefried as great a singer as Schwarzkopf? Probably not. But, not terribly unlike Trevino, she was great.

Yes, a nonstandard piece of music criticism — to put it mildly — but I stand by it. And you will find it in this New York Sun recordings roundup. That roundup also discusses the Budapest Festival Orchestra’s new recording of Strauss’s ballet Josephslegende. And there is a note about Beverly Sills, who left us on July 2. (The recordings are still here, I’m grateful to say.)

Anyway: Rafael Nadal? He might call himself — he might take pride in being — a champion in the Federer era. That may not be the outcome of his dreams. But it is still a towering achievement.

‐By the way, if you’re curious about my thoughts on Sills — further thoughts — please consult the next NR, which has a fairly lengthy signed obit. A great singer (and underrated) — and a great lady.

‐More music pieces? For three Sun reviews of the New York Philharmonic, conducted by Bramwell Tovey, go here, here, and here. For a preview of Wagner’s Ring, performed by the Kirov Opera of the Mariinsky Theater, conducted by Valery Gergiev, go here. For a piece on two recordings — the soprano Nina Stemme in Strauss and the pianist Arcadi Volodos in Liszt — go here.

And for a piece on André Previn’s latest jazz album, go here. In this piece, I take issue with Mark Steyn, which my hands can only do tremblingly. I disagree with Mark, on some minor issue, about once in five years — and then I suspect I’m wrong.

‐Let’s end on a sports note, since we had a little tennis earlier (and some golf). At the beginning of the month, Roger Clemens won his 350th game. And that brought back a memory.

My uncle is a baseball guy — a former college pitcher and a keen student of the game. In 1992, he told me, “Clemens may be the best pitcher ever.” I said, “Really? You mean, better than Cy Young, Walter Johnson, Christy Mathewson, Sandy Koufax . . .” He repeated: “He may be the best ever.”

I was mightily impressed with this statement, in large part because it was free of nostalgia. (Some people think that players or performers of the present can never measure up to those of the past.) He made a believer out of me: and his case gets stronger and stronger.

Thanks for joining me today, for a fairly offbeat Impromptus. (You say they all are?) Check you soon.