In yesterday’s Impromptus, I talked about President Obama’s foreign policy, and in particular its gestures: the New Year’s message to Iran’s “people and leaders”; the hearty handshakes and grins with Chávez; and so on. All of these gestures have consequences, and I’m afraid that none of them will be good. At that Americas summit, Daniel Ortega delivered a diatribe against the United States. He took care to slam us for the Bay of Pigs, but said that Obama could not be held responsible for that. Our president’s response? “I’m grateful that President Ortega did not blame me for things that happened when I was three months old.” Yuk, yuk, yuk. Applause all around. But not from all of us — not from all of us beyond that summit. The Bay of Pigs was terribly, almost criminally, executed. But it was a noble cause — the overthrow of that brutal dictatorship — and many, many good people died in the effort. If America bears guilt where the Bay of Pigs is concerned, it is not the kind of guilt Obama and his like have in mind, for sure. Many of Obama’s foreign-policy touches have been sickening — morally sickening. The Arabiya interview. The New Year’s greeting. The bow to the Saudi king. The rejoining of the U.N. “Human Rights Council,” that disgrace. The soul-brother clasp with Chávez. This light remark about the Bay of Pigs. Etc., etc. (And the smooching of the Castros is coming, I feel sure.) During the campaign, some of us said that Obama appeared to have the mindset of a Marxist grad student. Highly disturbing to see that borne out in his presidency. ‐Um, does it make me a paranoid Republican if I say that, if a Republican secretary of state had directed reporters to call a phone-sex line, this would have been rather a big deal in American life: a loud, sustained yuk-yuk? Am I wrong? The press and the comedians would have just shrugged it off and moved on? Really? Okay. ‐I wish reporters were a little less lazy, and a little less biased. Here is a report in the New York Times, from last week: “Mrs. Clinton said . . . that the uncompromising policy of the Bush administration toward Cuba had not worked.” In this report — a straight news article — the Times makes the editorial judgment that Bush’s policy was uncompromising. Some of us do not believe that: We think that that policy included carrots and sticks, and that the Cuban dictatorship did not accept any carrots. Why do reports in “mainstream media” so often have to incorporate the Left’s worldview? (I know why, of course: Am just being rhetorical.) (For that complete article, go here.) ‐The 43rd president, George W. Bush, went to the Boao Forum in China (for what reason, I don’t really know). An AP report had this to say: “On Saturday, [Bush] said he would not criticize Barack Obama and wished his successor all the best. ‘He was not my first choice, but now that this election was made, it speaks volumes about the United States of America,’ Bush said.” (Full article, here.) That reminded me of Dick Cheney last January, right before the inauguration: “What’s going to happen here [on January 20] is truly remarkable, if you think about it. I mentioned to somebody the other day — they asked me if I thought things had gotten better or worse during the 40 years since I came to Washington. And I thought back for a minute and was reminded that in 1968 we started the year with the Tet offensive in Vietnam. We had Lyndon Johnson withdraw from the campaign, we had Martin Luther King assassinated, we had Bobby Kennedy assassinated, we had riots in the cities, we had a riot in Chicago that was called the Democratic national convention. “And here we are 40 years later and we’re about to swear in the first African-American president in history. That’s remarkable. I didn’t vote for him and don’t agree with him on a lot of issues, but I think it really says a hell of a lot for the country that we’ve come that far in that period of time.” Well, the Democrats have always been balanced, far-seeing, and gracious about Bush, Cheney, and the GOP, right? (For the report from which those Cheney remarks are drawn, go here.) ‐I wanted to say something about Anderson Cooper, the CNN star. These recent years have been clarifying: The media have become more overtly partisan. Everyone’s letting it all hang out. That is better than pretending, I believe: better than pretending that people are neutral when they’re not. Still, there is something sad about the new era. Anderson Cooper is about as mainstream as you can get, right? And yet he’s cracking vulgar, mocking jokes about conservative rallies just like Jon Stewart, Stephen Colbert, and the rest of that type. It’s just one big smirk-e-tariat, or snark-e-tariat, or smug-e-tariat, or take your pick. Kind of a shame. ‐Did you see that CNN woman debate and badger those tea-party protesters? Unusual kind of reporting. When I interview someone, I usually don’t argue with him — I am there to elicit what he has to say. And I’m an opinion journalist, not a “mainstreamer”! After I published my Negroponte interview in this space, several readers wrote me to say, “But Jay, what he said was wrong!” or, “You should have disagreed with him!” Well, I give my opinion all the time: in this space and others. On that occasion, I was seeking to find out what somebody else had to say: I know what I have to say. You know? ‐A few weeks ago, Rush Limbaugh said he was selling his place in New York, because taxes were becoming so onerous. And the governor of the state, David Paterson, said, “If I knew that would be the result, I would’ve thought about the taxes earlier.” The man’s grammar is atrocious, of course. But so is his sense of political propriety in a democracy. Governmental power is an awesome, sometimes terrifying thing. It can be a terrible bully. And those who hold power should be mindful of that. They should have a deep sense of humility about the power that has been placed in their care. I’m all for joking — I like a joke. I simply fear that, for much of the Democratic party — and some of the Republican party — government power is a club with which to beat those you dislike, merrily. Officeholders ought to be a little careful when talking about driving individuals out through punitive taxation. ‐The current issue of National Review contains many delights (if I say so myself), and I hope you have your copy by now. (Or I hope you are reading “digitally”: here.) My own contribution is about Augusta National — to which I traveled for the first time ever. I saw the Monday practice round of the Masters (and then could not see a shot of the tournament — I was in Austria, where not a shot is shown). (Plenty of soccer, however.) Funny that it had taken me so long to get to the Masters — because the Masters has played a big role, almost an embarrassingly big role, in my life. I mean, in my mental life, and, to a degree, my writing life. I say this in my NR piece. I will not recapitulate that piece, here in Impromptus, but I wanted to say a little bit extra, with your permission. ‐Like others, I know, I “play” holes at Augusta National when on practice ranges. That is, I pretend I’m on particular holes, and select the clubs accordingly (and aim accordingly). This relieves the tedium of practice. (Should one admit that practice can be tedious?) I also “play” some other holes — holes beyond Augusta National. For example, you’re apt to find me on Nos. 17 and 18 at Pebble Beach. Also Nos. 17 and 18 at St Andrews. What is it about 17th and 18th holes? ‐In the NR piece, I write a little about Masters tournaments past. For me, the most memorable was the ’86 tournament, where Nicklaus won his sixth green jacket, at the age of 46. (He is the oldest player ever to win the Masters.) I will never forget watching the final round in my dorm room — it was scarcely believable, and gripping. I thought I would die before the day was out — wanted Nicklaus to win it probably more than he did. I tried to tell myself that he could not win it — that he was just surging, and must inevitably fall short. I did not dare believe he could win. But lo . . . The next Sunday, Horowitz returned to Russia, age 82, for the first time in over 60 years. As with Jack at Augusta, I was nervous as hell when he played. Was kind of dying for him. But he, too, came through. Then, a couple of weekends later, Willie Shoemaker was the winning jockey at the Kentucky Derby, age 54. That was a thrilling spring — an odds-defying, life-affirming spring. Do you remember? (You’re perfectly excused if you don’t remember those particular events, believe me.) ‐Augusta, Ga., is known almost exclusively for the golf course and the Masters. And yet it has other distinctions: For example, it is the hometown of Jessye Norman (though she sometimes talks like she’s from England, or France . . .). ‐When I put a note in the Corner, mentioning that I would be in Augusta, a reader wrote,

I’m excited to hear that you will be in my hometown for this year’s Masters. Every year, we Augustans can look forward to articles in the mainstream media trashing our town — saying what a dumpheap it is, outside the pearly gates of Augusta National. Our town has its flaws, but hardly merits the annual insult.

I agree. There are parts of Augusta that are gracious and charming. And I value a long, rambling conversation I had with an old-timer who was very much from the wrong side of the tracks. ‐In my hours at Augusta on the Monday, I did not see a great many players, but I saw some — for instance, Gary Player, practicing out of a bunker. Once upon a time, he was the best bunker player in the world, hands down. Then everyone else got wise to his methods — and followed suit. Now they’re all virtuosos, out of the bunker. As we were watching, Player skulled one — skulled one from the bunker. People like to see that. It allows us to say, “Hey, they’re just human.” But they’re not, really. Incidentally, Player, age 73, still looks like a movie star — a shrimpy, wiry little movie star. And as I see the players, watched intently by crowds close around them, I think, “They are like fish in a bowl. And, like fish, they are unconscious of those outside the bowl — until they are made conscious, of course.” I don’t know. I also saw Vijay Singh, who was far more athletic-looking than I expected. He ambled along like a big, agile cat. Then there was Greg Norman — looking more Great White Shark-like than ever. What helped this was that he was wearing a white golf shirt and a white sweater vest. Suddenly, on one hole, I noticed that many of the gallery around me were speaking Spanish. Why? Ah: The group on the hole included José María Olazábal, a two-time Masters champion, and Miguel Jiménez, the pony-tailed pro. Jiménez had in his mouth a big fat cigar — right out of Central Casting or something. Did I see Tiger? ’fraid not. As much as I have written about him — and I say in my NR piece that I’ve written about him almost as much as I have either President Clinton or President Bush (43) — I have never laid eyes on him. ‐Years ago, I heard a golf analyst — a pro golfer himself — say, “The thing about the guys on the Tour now is that they all have great balance. Incredible balance. That is something new in golf.” It’s true, and I saw that, clearly. (I should make clear that we’re talking about physical balance — balance in the swing — rather than some kind of mental or spiritual balance. That is another story — and a more important story.) ‐In the NR piece, I say a little about what surprised me, about Augusta National, and what did not. I was interested to see that everything seemed . . . quite small. I mean no insult by this. The clubhouse, the cabins. A friend of mine used the word “boutique.” And there are very, very short distances between greens and tees. It hit me: “Jay, you dummy, this is a 1930s course — they were all like that.” ‐I could write forever about Augusta and the Masters, but should let you go. Couple more items. Tell you something about Salzburg? I went for the Easter Festival. Lectured on The Ring (Siegfried, in particular). Attended the performances. Will write about in the next NR. On my last day there, I took my usual walk on the Mönchsberg. And I have to tell you that this day — this morning — was almost a parody of Austrianness. Pretty much a stereotype. The Alps. The flowers. The tidy homes and farms. The monasteries and convents. The bells. The birds going “Tweet, tweet.” That’s what they did: They sang “Tweet, tweet,” as in a Walt Disney cartoon. As if reading from a script. Extraordinary. I expected Julie Andrews to come busting out (though not like in Victor Victoria) any second. ‐Reader writes,

Mr. Nordlinger:
Went to lunch today at the Foundation Room at the House of Blues in Houston. HOB opened in Houston last year. The Foundation Room is the private-club portion of HOB, but is open to the public for lunch.
I was considering joining as a member and so took a quick tour with a waiter. These Foundation Rooms, around the country, have murals painted by an artist group.
The waiter led us to one ceiling mural and pointed out that it showed people being consigned to hell, with demons torturing the damned. He also pointed out that one of the damned had the face of — you guessed it, George W. Bush. Can you imagine the reaction if Clinton’s face were in this mural, or the firestorm if The One were pictured?
I will not be joining.

Good. ‐Care for Impromptus via RSS? Please go here. ‐Got a letter from a college student I met during recent travels. At the end, he says, “As for the ladies, I am no longer talking with my ex-girlfriend. Oh, well. But I am now dating an anti-Communist Ukrainian and a Hooters girl. Therefore I am busy.” I thought that was priceless, somehow. (Well, not somehow.) See you!

#JAYBOOK#