Your Washington Post op/ed page outdid itself this past Sunday, cementing its role as the home for thoughtful conservative refutations of arguments never seen in the Post.
Remembering history the way they wished it had been
Barack Obama’s banishment of a Churchill bust from the Oval Office was a signature moment in his presidency, the disrespecting of our special relationship with Britain and source of endless mock conservative head-scratching, who wondered why anyone might be cool towards the beloved Winnie.
Friday came word that everybody had it all wrong, the bust never left the White House, and rested in a place of great honor.
But, sadly, no.
Rather then own up to their imperial blusterer banishment, the Obama White House tried to be cute, and got caught. Two Churchill busts by the same sculpture have had a spot in the White House, one remains, and the Bush related one lives at the British embassy.
So Obama hadn’t taken a stand against imperialism, delivered a rebuke to Tony Blair’s Bush Poodle-ism, or spared the nation from Churchillian blowhard-ism.
Who’s Crying Now?
From his controversial campaign embrace of Reagan nostalgia onward, Barack Obama has set Fantasy Reagan as the standard to be measured against. But he’s lacked the twinkling whimsy to pull off the big whoppers Reagan could do with half a brain, and the shamelessness of his handlers in putting them across.
But now, light from the East.
Obama was already three up on the Gipper in the coveted killing Qaddafi relatives category, hitting a son and three grandchildren. Reagan had to make to do with his sole Qaddafi hit, the adopted daughter killed when the US bombed Libya in 1986.
Now the rebel conquest of Tripoli threatens even that Reagan accomplishment. The Irish Times reports from the wreckage that Hana Qaddafi may have never died, and had gone on to a career as a doctor.
The Reagan bomb run was storied in legend and song, featuring daring-do, plucky Maggie Thatcher as Churchill in drag, and the perfidious French.
But now all we may have gotten out of it was the Lockerbie bombing.
Grant Me This
It was a gathering of the conservative faithful at CPAC this past weekend, and the search for novel political analogies reached strange new heights.
Among the oddities was Minnesota Governor Tim Pawlenty, whose doomed Presidential campaign took its first tentative steps off the cliff by reminding the assembled Neo-Confederates of a past glorius Republican office holder, U.S. Grant.
Somehow today’s conservative struggle resembles Grant’s grinding Civil War victories over the South, his scandel infested administration, or his occasional lunges towards protecting blacks and Republicans from the Klan in the South. Which is unclear, but Pawlenty has his own upbeat, crackpot version:
But perhaps not win. Pawlenty came in fourth in CPAC’s presidential straw poll.
Also up for CPAC recycling, Margeret Thatcher, AKA The Iron Lady. Indiana Representative Mike Pence, straw poll fifth place holder, put America’s striking coal miners and Trotskyist local office holders on notice by evoking everyone’s favorite Churchill in drag. Just wait till that North Sea oil saves our ass!
A Romantic View Of History
Pence also entertained the crowd with a musty Ronald Reagan yarn, one where Reagan encountered a magic pipe-fitter. This proto Joe The Plumber begged Reagan to save tax cuts for the rich, so guys like him could be hired by them. Pence has trotted out the tale of this wondrous encounter at least twice going back to 2005.
CPAC turned to Glen Beck for insane historical tales with a grain of truth.
Peeing all over John McCain’s myth of a muscular progressive Republican past, Beck rightly called Teddy Roosevelt an interventionist.
But calling Roosevelt a socialist is as insane as labeling Obama one.
The George W. Bush Presidential Library has no building yet, but in our up to the minute virtual world they’ve begun filling the Internets with thoughtful reminders of the glorious Bush Era.
The Library website has an exciting 9-11 look-back slide-show, featuring our hero on the phone,
All of our old friends are there:
in NYPD drag, anticipating the butch look Bush would sport the next seven years.