Erik:
The answer to your question about who or what deserves the blame is: all of the above. Yes, you’ve lived through enough elections that your cynicism reflex kicks in automatically, so nothing that comes out of a politician’s mouth has quite the intended effect. Yes, political discourse in this country has absolutely grown debased, and devoid of substance much of the time, and downright silly–the thought of Little Ricky Lazio replacing Pat Moynihan, bless his heart and liver, is almost too much for me to bear. And, yes, Bill Clinton’s derelictions were indeed a coup of some sort, thought I’m not sure grace had anything to do with it. More like coup de disgrace.
I was mulling on how pathetic a figure the president is, on his own and compared with his predecessors, just this past weekend, when my wife and I were in Los Angeles at the Museum of Radio and Television. We were watching a 90-minute program on the history of presidential campaign commercials, and it was fascinating both for the content (the evolution of what is absolutely an art form from 1952 to 1996) and the emotion (the visceral reaction, good and bad, to various candidates, good and bad). I liked Ike, with his references to “my Mamie,” even if he came across as a sweet old simpleton, and disliked Stevenson, who despite his intelligence was so damned untelegenic; it’s hard to imagine either one surviving in politics for five minutes today. Nixon, as ever, was dark and shifty, but Kennedy had his problems, too. He’s been so mythologized by now that he scarcely seems to have existed–he’s like a character in a movie, or one of those animatronic robots in the Hall of the Presidents. (The high point of the 1960 spots was Jackie, in a short-sleeved top and up against a plain backdrop, delivering an entire pitch in breathily fluent Spanish. It felt totally uncalculating and not at all craven, though, of course, it was.) LBJ was a genius, or he had geniuses working for him. His ads were extraordinarily focused and lean–they so thoroughly demonized Goldwater, not just the “Daisy” commercial but others I hadn’t seen before, included the first ever with a female voice-over, that the Arizona senator never had a chance. (In your heart, you know he’s heading right back to Phoenix.) I particularly liked the recurring tag line: “Vote President Johnson on November 3. The stakes are too high to stay home.” Pure poetry.
The next few–Humphrey, as untelegenic, almost, as Stevenson, and Ford, with his wide ties and lapels and mid-seventies anti-cool, and Carter, grinning like an idiot, and Reagan, backlit and sleepwalking–made less of an impression, and then came Big Bush, who’s never looked as uncomfortable as in those ‘88 ads that put him in the company of real people. I forgot how awkward he was before the camera, but not nearly as awkward as Dukakis when he was done with him. He won, it seems to me now, because he gave people something to vote against, not for. And that’s where we are with Clinton and with Gore. Those first Clinton ads are something to behold: squinty eyes, bee-stung lips, full of promises and promise. At the time he seemed so sincere, so worthy of trust, so much the guy who wasn’t going to let us down. Knowing what I know now, he seems smarmy and unclean, a phony, a fraud, a squanderer of opportunities big and small. Are we better off than we were eight years ago? Yes, undoubtedly. But all the scandals, up through and including Lewinsky, all the instances of stupid, unnecessary bad behavior, all the half-truths and non-truths and outright falsehoods, give credibility to the nutbags who never liked him in the first place, give them something to rally in opposition to, and depress the hell of out of me, frankly. Here, I think, is George W.’ s hole card. In the end, if he and Gore are deadlocked on issues, he can turn to the American people, with credibility, and say, “No more bathtub rings in the White House.” Whatever else W. is, and in purely ideological terms he’s many, many things, I simply don’t believe he’d disgrace the office the way Clinton did.
The only salvation I see for Gore, short of poetic ads of his own–“In your tush, you know he’s a Bush”–is his own choice of veep. A bold choice and he can snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. A safe, predictable choice–and that’s the way he’s heading, with his gallery of old white men (John Kerry is young?!?)–and it’s Tipper-bar-the-door. On this day, at this hour, my money is on Bob Graham. You?
Regards,
Evan
