THE LITTLE THINGS THAT NIGGLE

The fine art of the meaningless gesture and the empty symbol was honed to perfection with a combined "symbolic gesture" when the Bullshitter-in-Chief arrived in Pakistan the other day.

The Bullshitter-in-Chief with First Lady: 'Hi y'all!' Now duck. [AP photo]A front-page story in The New York Times on Saturday reported that he "flew directly to Islamabad aboard Air Force One," as "a symbolic gesture that he considered the country safe enough for a presidential welcome on an open tarmac, and an overnight stay."

How safe was it and how meaningful the symbolic gesture? You decide. Here was the very next paragraph:

The capital was virtually sealed for his arrival. Concrete barriers and police squads blocked off the main avenues running to Parliament, the presidential palace and the diplomatic enclave where the president stayed, leaving the streets from the airport dark and deserted.

Further down in the story (12th graf), the meaning of that symbolic gesture is more fully developed: "Air Force One approached Islamabad with its running lights off and interior shades drawn, a precaution that would make it harder for anyone trying to aim a missile at the plane." Then:

After his airport arrival was covered by local television crews, [the Bullshitter] slipped away from public view, and reporters traveling with him could not tell whether he even rode with the presidential motorcade, or in an unmarked Black Hawk helicopter, to the heavily fortified residence of the American ambassador. ...

Since everything is relative in the bizarro world of White House PR, you could call the arrival a "public landing," because unlike Clinton's flight into Islamabad six years ago, as also reported in the story, the Bullshitter was not delivered in an "unmarked military jet accompanied by a decoy plane with the familiar blue and white of Air Force One and 'United States of America' on its side."

Meanwhile, over in Iraq ...

It was reported today, also in The Times, that "units of the American-trained Iraqi Army stood aside," according to U.S. commanders, "clearing the way" for the recent Shiite reprisals against Sunnis "carried out by the Mahdi Army, a militia loyal to Moktada al-Sadr," and other militia fighters (a k a death squads).

But y'know what?

Bayan Jabr, the interior minister, who has been accused by Sunnis of allowing Shiite death squads to operate within police ranks, said he had sent a letter to all militia groups asking them to disband, as required by the new Iraqi Constitution.

How nice of him. And better than that, according to the report,

Mr. Jabr said that he had allocated $10 million to a fund to help militia members find new jobs, including positions in the new army and police forces.

That way the army and police won't even have to stand aside to carry out reprisals. They can do it themselves with their death squads fully authorized.

Oscar countdown: The really important stuff [Ethan Miller / Getty Images]Need I remind you of "the Salvador option" hidden in plain sight? Or the American general leading the multibillion-dollar effort to train and equip Iraq's police forces, who said he was heartened by Jabr's pledge to fully investigate the death squads?

Nah. These are just niggles. Why bother? Let's get to the really important stuff, like the countdown to the Oscars .

March 5, 2006 10:17 AM |

Categories:

Me Elsewhere

'WILD SIDE' STILL ROCKS 

Nelson Algren was one of the great American authors of the 20th century, it is no exaggeration to say, and among the most neglected. Consider his underrated classic, "A Walk on the Wild Side." The title -- popularized and co-opted as an idiomatic phrase by Hollywood and Madison Avenue (institutions Algren loathed) -- is familiar to most anyone who speaks English or knows Lou Reed's lyrics. But the novel itself? Hardly.

BUSTER KEATON REVISITED 
Buster Keaton: Tempest in a Flat Hat is not a biography. "This book is merely a fan's notes," Edward McPherson writes in the introduction, although his publisher ignores the disclaimer and calls it a biography on the cover. In fact, the book is a bit of both, a difficult combination to bring off unless you're David Thomson, who set the standard with Rosebud, his penetrating rumination on the life and career of Orson Welles, which was nothing if not a distillation of every obsessive thought he ever had about the myth and the man and all his movies.
LAUREN BACALL, STILL SALTY AT 80 
When Lauren Bacall writes that her singing voice ranges "somewhere between B minus sharp and outer space," she's being candid and funny. It's not every stage star with two Tony Awards for best actress in a musical whose vocal talent offers so little promise. (OK, Harvey Fierstein excepted.) Still less would one admit it.
THE STARS ACCORDING TO BOGDANOVICH 
Peter Bogdanovich's superb collection of movie-star profiles and interviews -- a sequel to Who the Devil Made It, his interviews of top film directors -- begins with an affectionate tale about Orson Welles that reminds us just how intimate the author's connection to Hollywood's greatest has been. But contrary to what we've come to expect from dime-a-dozen celebrities and celebrity interviews not worth two cents, the tale avoids bromidic egotism and journalistic platitudes.
SAMMY'S WHITE DREAMS 
Four decades ago Lenny Bruce sentenced Sammy Davis Jr. to "30 years in Biloxi," stripping him of "his Jewish star" and "his religious statue of Elizabeth Taylor." Now we have two new biographies of Davis that spring him from ridicule, if not from doubts about his legacy, and restore a measure of dignity to a black entertainer whose huge fame and success never overcame his devout wish -- indeed his lifelong effort -- to be white.
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