Or is Bush just too busy remembering the names of
his old frat brothers to focus on things like who he
had executed last week?
September 12th was a bad day for
George W. Bush. That was the
day the New York Times revealed
that a Republican ad attacking
Gore-Lieberman contained a single
frame that said rats. It was also
the day a story broke that Gail
Sheehy's upcoming Vanity Fair
article would speculate that Bush
is dyslexic. So, it was a bad day
for Bush to deny that his campaign was using
"subliminable" advertising. Four times. Personally, I
tried to cut him some slack and guessed that
maybe Bush was using a sophisticated subliminal
technique himself by slipping in the word "able." And
I didn't go around telling this joke: "George W. Bush
was asked yesterday, 'Are you dyslexic?' and he said, 'On!'"
It was an especially bad day because, in the weeks
after the national conventions, as George W. Bush
stumbled and his lead over Al Gore evaporated, the
media had begun to question once again whether
Bush is up to the job. Day after day, they still
faithfully report his latest verbal gaffe. All because
his poll numbers are down. Which really isn't fair.
Bush has been stupid all along.
Take, for example, this gem on education, from
January. "Rarely is the question asked: Is our
children learning?" Technically, of course, he's right.
Personally, I've never heard that question asked. Or
how about this sympathetic comment to struggling
workers: "I know it's hard to put food on your family."
There's a whole bunch of good ones. About the
economy: "I understand small business growth -- I
was one." Yes, he was. As the owner of an
oil-exploration company, he lost millions of dollars of
his father's friends' money. Still, it must have been
an exciting time in Midland, Texas, because he told
an interviewer in 1994, "It was just inebriating, what
Midland was all about then."
Bush is a graduate of Yale University, which he got
into through its legacy affirmative-action program
and where, like in high school, he got awful grades.
One of his two favorite Supreme Court justices,
Clarence Thomas (the other is Antonin Scalia), also
got into Yale, but through the other kind of
affirmative action (which all three oppose).
W. did, however, display some impressive people
skills in college. During Bush's induction into the
Delta Kappa Epsilon fraternity, the DKE
upperclassmen hazed the inductees -- hitting them
and calling them "excrement," that sort of thing. As
part of the humiliation, to show what a worthless
piece of shit you were, the inductees were asked to
name all their fellow pledges. Several were called on
and could name only five or six. When Bush was
called, he amazed everyone by naming all fifty-five of
the other pledges. Definitely a handy talent for a
future businessman and politician.
However, Bush's memory doesn't seem to serve him
as well when it comes to people he's had executed.
In July on ABC's This Week, Cokie Roberts asked
Bush about his statement from a March debate: "I'm
absolutely confident that everybody has been put to
death has two things: One, they're guilty of the
crime charged; and secondly, they have full access
to the courts." Roberts brought up the case of Odell
Barnes, who had been executed the day before that
debate. Roberts said that Barnes' lawyers had
obtained information that called into question every
bit of evidence that had been used to convict him.
But Texas law had not allowed that new evidence to be
heard by a court. How did this square with Bush's statement?
"Well, I don't remember the specifics -- well, I don't
remember the specifics. . . . I, you know, and -- and
-- and I'm not castigating you now, I wish you would
have given me a chance to bring the full dossier, so I
could have discussed it in detail with you. . . ." My
guess is that if you asked Bush the names of the
last fifty-five people executed in Texas, he'd probably
remember only Karla Faye Tucker, whose pleas for
mercy he ridiculed in a Talk magazine story
reported by conservative pundit Tucker Carlson:
"'Please,' Bush whimpers, his lips pursed in mock
desperation, 'don't kill me.'"
So to a large extent, the issue is not raw stupidity.
Or even the disturbing selectivity of his memory. A
big part of the problem is W.'s apparent lack of
intellectual curiosity. It appears, for example, that he
doesn't read very much. Though he was prepared
with an answer last December when, in a New
Hampshire debate, he was asked what book he was
currently reading. "I'm reading a book on Dean
Acheson," Harry Truman's secretary of state. It was
a pretty smart choice, showing that, even if he
doesn't know the names of all the countries, he's
still serious about foreign policy.
The problem was that in the next debate, five days
later, the moderator, Judy Woodruff of CNN, asked
W. what he had learned about Dean Acheson. Bush
froze up and then responded with a string of lines
directly from his canned stump speech: "The
lessons learned are that the United States must not
retreat within our borders, that we must promote the
peace." The next day, I called a friend at the Gore
campaign and suggested they make a large
papier-mache Dean Acheson head and have
someone follow Bush around with a sign saying,
"Why don't you know anything about me?"
The Gore people ignored me, but this was before I
became a part of Gore's inner circle. Now, they're
finally listening. And I think I've thought of the ploy
that is going to cinch this thing for the vice
president. In the first debate, Gore is going to say
something negative about the Bush-Quayle
administration. Governor Bush will then feel
compelled to defend his father, President Bush, and
say something positive about him. At that point,
Gore will say, "I knew George Bush. George Bush
was a friend of mine. You, sir, are no George Bush."
I believe that will hopelessly confuse Governor Bush
and that he will be unable to speak for the rest of the
debate. So, watch for that.
But back to reading. Last year Pizza Hut, as part of
a program to encourage children to read, asked all
the governors to list their first favorite books. Bush
put The Very Hungry Caterpillar at the very top of his
list. And it's a very good book. I read it to my kids
when they were little. The thing is, The Very Hungry
Caterpillar was not published until 1969, a year after
W. had graduated from Yale. So I guess those who
say that Bush hasn't cracked a book since college
aren't giving him enough credit.
I think one of Bush's problems is that he doesn't
realize that he's not very bright. My theory is that
Bush thinks pretty much everyone else is kind of
dumb, so, on a curve, at least, he's smart. I base
this on the way he handled the cocaine question.
You'll remember that the question of whether he had
ever taken cocaine surfaced early in the campaign.
Bush became quite indignant: "There's a game in
Washington. It's called 'Gotcha.' It's a game where
we float a rumor and make the candidate prove a
negative. And I'm not playing the game."
But then, when pressed, Bush told reporters that he
absolutely did not do cocaine after 1974. Well, did
he do cocaine before 1974? "I'm not going to play
that game!" I'm not sure how he would expect us not
to conclude, "Oh, I see. He did cocaine in 1974."
Frankly, I don't care if he did cocaine before he read
The Very Hungry Caterpillar. Or if he snorted it when
he was twelve. Although, if he did, shame on his
folks. I know his dad was busy, but, c'mon, pay
some attention!
Actually, I've talked to W. briefly about this. It was
last August, and we met at a small campaign event
in Indianola, Iowa, a little town about twenty minutes
south of Des Moines. I said, "I don't care whether or
not you've ever done cocaine, but, since we're in
Iowa, I have to ask you: Have you ever manufactured
any crystal meth?" He laughed, but he did not, and I
think this is important, he did not deny. Which
actually was smart, because if he'd denied, then I
could have asked him why he wouldn't categorically
deny using cocaine. So, in this case anyway, I
guess he outsmarted me.
Unfortunately, I didn't stop there. I asked him about
a pet subject of mine, the Community Reinvestment
Act, which was passed in 1977. CRA requires
banks to provide capital to people who have
historically been denied it: the working poor, women,
minorities. At that time, Phil Gramm, the Texas
senator and chairman of the Senate banking
committee, was trying to gut CRA in the new
Financial Services Modernization Act. First I asked
W. if he knew what CRA is. He said he did. For
some reason, I didn't have the heart to follow with,
"Oh, yeah? What is it?" So I guess I was
outsmarted again.
Then I asked him if he agreed with me that CRA was
a perfect example of compassionate conservatism.
He said yes, it is. So what about his fellow Texan's
attempt to weaken it? "I believe a compromise has
been reached on that." Of course, he was wrong.
The impasse on CRA was the last remaining
roadblock to the bill's passage and would not be
resolved for another three months. On the one hand,
maybe you can't expect a governor to know what's
happening in the Senate banking committee. Then
again, if I had asked Bill Clinton or Al Gore the same
question, I would have gotten a dissertation on the
history (and smashing success) of CRA.
By the way, I contacted Bush's office the next week
and was finally able to get his campaign's position
on CRA. Guess what? It was the same as Gramm's.
Bush might actually be sincere about
compassionate conservatism. But it seems to me
that it would take an awfully smart, engaged and
knowledgeable person to implement it.
Are there still people in this country who think
George W. Bush is an able, dynamic leader with
lots of ideas? I guess so. And I know that millions of
conservative Republicans would prefer a like-minded,
if lightweight, president to a progressive know-it-all
who thinks government can solve problems. That's
their right. The question I've had for months,
especially when Bush was ahead in the polls, is,
how could Americans think that George W. Bush
was the man for our times?
Here's my theory: Bill Clinton has made it look
easy. During his administration, Clinton presided
over the best economy in our history, turned
massive deficits into surpluses and brought crime
down every year, and we're at peace. All with one
hand behind his back, investigated from Day One.
How hard can it really be?
I've never been president, but my guess is that it's
really hard. And when a matter comes to your desk
for a decision, it's because your advisers, all of
whom are very smart, couldn't resolve it among
themselves. Now the country, the world is waiting for
you to bring all your experience, all your judgment,
all your intelligence to bear. What do you do, W.?
"I know! I call Dad!"
AL FRANKEN
(October 11, 2000)