MAILER HITS A VEIN

In the florid words of my good friend Repulski: "A great and testy old fart steps up to the plate in those worn and dusty spiked shoes before the indifferent crowd. He knocks the spikes against the bat, just to clean the bullshit of old games away, the ugly hard toil of yesteryear, remembering when he was a confident extra-base hitter. Some called him a slugger. Things are different now. He loosens up his arthritic shoulders and swings -- and It's Out of the Fucking Ballpark! Praise the Blood-Soaked Lord!"

In other words, if you haven't seen it yet, take a look at Norman Mailer's commentary in the Nov. 4 issue of the New York Review of Books. (Scroll way down). It begins:

A victory for Bush may yet be seen as one of our nation's unforgettable ironies. No need to speak again of the mendacities, manipulations, and spiritual mediocrity of the post–9/11 years; the time has come to recover from the shock that so abysmal a record (and so complete a refusal to look at the record) looks nonetheless likely to prevail. Who, then, are we? In just what kind of condition are the American people?

It goes after Ahnold:

A quick look at our movie stars gives a hint. The liberal left has been attached to actors like Warren Beatty and Jack Nicholson. They spoke to our cynicism and to our baffled idealism. But the American center moved their loyalties from the decency of Gary Cooper to the grit and self-approval of John Wayne. Now, we have the apotheosis of Arnold Schwarzenegger. He captured convention honors at the Garden in the course of informing America, via the physicality of his presence, that should the nation ever come to such a dire pass as to need a dictator, why, bless us all, he, Arnold, can offer the best chin to come along since Benito Mussolini. Chin is now prepared to replace spin.

"Bush's appeal is, after all, to the stupid," Mailer continues. "They, too, are inflexible -- they also know that maintaining one's stupidity can become a kind of strength, provided you never change your mind."

Then comes the topper, hitting a vein that nobody has dared to use before. It's deeply personal, more revealing about the character and religiosity of the Ignoramus in Chief than anything anyone else has said in public, and it spurts real blood:

It is cruel but true that he has the vulnerability of an ex-alcoholic.

People in Alcoholics Anonymous speak of themselves as dry drunks. As they see it, they may no longer drink, yet a sense of imbalance at having to do without liquor does not go away. Rather the impulse is sequestered behind the faith that God is supporting one's efforts to remain sober.

Giving up booze may have been the most heroic act of George W.'s life, but America could now be paying the price. George W.'s piety has become a pomade to cover all the tamped-down dry-drunk craziness that still stirs in his livid inner air.

Mailer knows from boozers (ex- and otherwise). His words have the ring of truth, and those are just the highlights. Go read, while keeping your fingers crossed the irony will not come to pass.