New Century, Old Grudges
PHILADELPHIA -- O.K. Now we're in business.
After an icky
evening of Republican
kissy-face and
blaxploitation ("Affirmative
Action, the
Musical"), Poppy unleashed Chiang!
Unleashing Chiang,
in the loopy Bush family
patois used
in golf and tennis, means giving the ball a good whack.
After a week
of President Clinton taunting W., saying that the Republican
candidate's
message was merely "My Daddy was president," Daddy lost it.
"And if he continues
that, then I'm going to tell the nation what I think
about him as
a human being and a person," the former president threatened
on NBC's "Today."
Our summer of
torpid politics suddenly came alive with the freaky
spectacle of
two presidents trash-talking. The race turns out to be what we
thought it was
all along: President Bush vs. President Clinton.
George Senior
is determined to prove once and for all that Bill Clinton is a
tacky hick who
defiled the presidency. Bill Clinton is determined to prove
once and for
all that George Senior is an irrelevant aristocrat who thinks
the presidency
is a family heirloom.
Two intensely
competitive chief executives, who had been trying not to
meddle too much
in the campaigns of their protégés, bolting off the
reservation
in a bid for vindication.
George Senior
is fighting for the second term he feels he was gypped out
of by Bill Clinton.
And Bill Clinton is fighting for the third term he needs to
launder his
legacy.
W. and Al are alternately bystanders and stand-ins in the big rematch.
It is as though
the tape of the '92 election, on pause all these years, has
started rolling
again.
The presidential
hissy fit is driven by class rage. Edith Wharton would have
savored this
drama of manners.
The Bushes have
been privately steaming that Gore/Clinton have not
abided by Marquess
of Queensberry rules, allowing the Republicans to
enjoy their
nomination party without any Democrats throwing a punch.
Bush Père
believes his manners toward his successor have been
impeccable,
and that he has been discreet out of loyalty to the office.
"Who's been more
gracious and charitable to Bill Clinton, even during
Lewinsky?" asked
the former president's old friend Alan Simpson, the
former Wyoming
senator.
So the Bushes
felt the gentlemanly rules of order were broken over the last
week when the
Democrats put out an ad attacking Dick Cheney's
conservative
record and two more attacking W. on health care and the
environment,
and when Bill Clinton repeatedly mocked W. as a coddled
daddy's boy
at fund-raisers.
"The country
was in the ditch," Mr. Clinton said in Boston last Friday,
talking about
'92, comparing the Bush White House to a ditzy "Wayne's World."
Nobody gave Mr.
Clinton, who never knew his own father and who had to
stand up to
an abusive, alcoholic stepfather, a solid gold key to success.
And he clearly
thinks Al Gore, another regent raised to be president by a
famous political
father, is not up to the challenge of gutting the Bushes on
the entitlement
issue.
It has to be
galling to Mr. Clinton that Americans don't seem inclined to
reward his vice
president for the purring economy. And he is surely fed up
with the Republicans
acting as if his two terms were merely Bushus Interruptus.
The remarkable thing is that this class war has caused everyone to reverse roles.
In '92, W. was
the vindictive one who lashed out when his father was criticized.
Now dad has
taken junior's role.
And while it
is usually vice presidents who serve as hatchet men, now Bill
Clinton does
that for his vice president.
Even though Mr.
Simpson says that the Bushes avoided publicly criticizing
Mr. Clinton
about Monica Lewinsky, that is in fact the subtext of W.'s
campaign --
restoring "honor and dignity" to the White House.
Mr. Clinton thinks
a rejection of Mr. Gore would be a ratification of the
Bushes' contention
that he sullied the White House. The president can also
see that it
is hard for Al Gore to attack, because even people who agree
with Mr. Gore
find him insufferable on the attack. W. and Mr. Gore will
probably keep
campaigning, but we all know it's not about them anymore.
Maybe it never
was.