Fw: The Real George Bush Junior
Lutfi M. Hussein
lutfi.hussein at ASU.EDU
Tue Feb 26 05:25:41 UTC 2002
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From: "Mid-East Realities" <MER at MiddleEast.Org>
To: <lutfiawa at IMAP4.ASU.EDU>
Sent: Monday, February 25, 2002 1:32 PM
Subject: The Real George Bush Junior
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See MER WORLD today for "The Disappeared...In The Land of the Free"
http://www.MiddleEast.Org/world
THE REAL AMERICAN PRESIDENT
And He Knows Who His Friends Are...
"...scenes of Bush reverting to Deke-house
(i.e., fraternity-house) form on the press
plane...bumping his way down the aisle
while wearing a sleep mask, hoisting his
non-alcoholic beer and pushing his way into a
boozy press throng while declaring, 'These are
my people. It takes an animal to know an animal.'"
"Let's see, I started off as a cowboy. I'm
now a statesman."
MID-EAST REALITIES - www.MiddleEast.Org - Washington - 2/25/2002:
The Bush White House is a little spooked, not quite sure what the
public will make of all this For this "wholesome" President who has
brought "dignity back to the White House", this video documentary about to
debut could be the near-equivalent to Bill Clinton's public denials -- and
all those senior officials he enlisted on his behalf -- followed by Monica
Lewinsky's now-infamous semen-stained little "blue dress". It's the hard to
rebute proof of what is really real rather than what is make-up imagery.
Oh yes, and then there is The West Wing Producer's ever-so-right attack
on his own NBC network for the fluff special they recently did about "a day
in the life of the President", hosted by none other than Tom Brokaw himself.
"The White House pumped up the President's schedule to show him being much
busier and more engaged than he is, and Tom Brokaw let it happen," says
Hollywood's Aaron Sorkin. No scenes of the Pres watching a football game
eating pretzels by himself (but for dogs) that day!
Whatever, such things are pushed by press departments as part of their
make-up imagery job. Its just that the big networks and their top anchormen
aren't supposed to let themselves be stage props. At the least there should
be a disclaimer: "The following is advertising and the network is not
responsible for content"!
At this time of world peril with major warfare lurking from the
sub-continent to Iraq to Palestine and a President who "in his wisdom" has
decided to pursue the "Axis of Evil" and a tremendous military
expansion....now's the time to examine much more deeply just who is in
charge both in the White House as well as in the major institutions of the
American government, especially the Pentagon and the CIA. We named a few
names in the previous article and there's much more to tell about many of
them as well as about the system of big money and influence-peddling that
brought them all to power.
But for right now...in flashing red lights...the video
documentary..."Journeys With George".
GEORGE W. BUSH, MOVIE STAR
A private screening of Alexandra Pelosi's forthcoming documentary.
by Matt Labash*
[NEW YORK - The Daily Standard - 23 February]: It's Valentine's Day, and
though I'm a married man, I'm standing on the sixth-floor landing of a
Greenwich Village apartment building with a box of Russell Stover candy
that's intended for a woman I've never met. I'm on a journalistic suck-up
safari, and my quarry has warned me that I'd better not come empty-handed
on such a hallowed day. (I almost brought a fruit basket, but it seemed so
Connie Chung.)
My reportorial blind date is with former "Dateline" producer Alexandra
Pelosi, the 31-year-old daughter of California Democratic congresswoman and
minority whip Nancy Pelosi. Alexandra may be on the verge of cinematic
stardom. After following George W. Bush on the campaign trail for a year and
a half, she quit her NBC job, formed her own company (Purple Monkey
Productions), and culled hundreds of hours of candid trail footage, shot on
her auto-focus Sony camcorder, much of it containing the future president of
the United States monkeying around with reporters.
Her documentary is set to debut March 8 at the South by Southwest Film
Festival in Austin, Texas. But it's already caused quite a stir. Relying on
Pelosi friends who've seen it, Time magazine described scenes of Bush
reverting to Deke-house form on the press plane: predicting that Pelosi's
crush on another reporter would "result in a relationship that goes beyond
hand-holding," bumping his way down the aisle while wearing a sleep mask,
hoisting his non-alcoholic beer and pushing his way into a boozy press
throng while declaring, "These are my people. It takes an animal to know an
animal."
White House sources, understandably concerned that the president will look
less than presidential, have begun sniping at Pelosi. They told both Time
and the Washington Post that they were under the impression these sessions
were off the record, a claim that taxes credulity since Bush is repeatedly
filmed referring to her "documentary." He even went to the trouble of giving
it a title--"Journeys With George"--which Pelosi ultimately used.
While Pelosi has shown portions of her film to several reporter friends, I
am to be the first to preview the final version in its entirety. Though she
has so far rebuffed screening overtures by everyone from USA Today to the
"Tonight Show" (first television dibs go to her old colleagues at "Dateline"
and the "Today Show"), she mysteriously allows me to talk my way in, though
not without making my life miserable first.
After numerous hours of set-up work on the phone in which the deal is nearly
done, she turns difficult. "I don't want you to have it yet," she says. She
makes me repeatedly assure her that I'm not out to do a hit piece. She tells
me that at least a dozen of her friends have nixed me, suspecting a writer
from a conservative political magazine could be up to no good with the
daughter of one of Congress's most liberal Democrats. ("The Weekly
Standard?" exclaimed her sister. "Get out of it!") When her advisers inform
her that I once performed a knee-cap job on Rep. Patrick Kennedy, a personal
friend of hers, she insists I call the story up on Nexis and read her all
3,500 words. "That's the meanest thing I've ever had read to me," she says.
It all seems a fairly clever ploy on her part: play a manic
babe-in-the-woods (even though we're in the same profession), put the
reporter on defense until you crush his will to play offense, ensure that he
is so beholden to you for granting him access that he writes a nice story.
As I knock on Pelosi's door, my integrity (such as it is) already
compromised, she continues the hazing.
"HOLD ON," says the raspy voice from behind the door, "I've got to turn my
camera on." As a precondition for viewing her documentary, I've agreed, in a
fit of postmodernism, to be filmed myself after a brief getting-to-know-you
session, from which she will decide if I seem like the trustworthy type. No
journalism is supposed to be committed during this trial period, but as her
door opens, camera whirring, I reflexively reach for my microrecorder in a
Mexican standoff. "Whip it out," she commands. "I'll show you mine if you
show me yours."
Unhappy that I, the hunter, have become the hunted, I ask her if she used
that line on George Bush. ("Stop filming me, you're like a head cold," Bush
barks at one point in the film.) She didn't, but easily could have. For
Pelosi is a force of nature, a large presence, a disco inferno. In her
bathroom hangs a giant, mirrored disco ball, hardly an oddity considering
the rest of her apartment decor: the Reform School Girls movie postcard on
her refrigerator, the purple velvet couch ("It's aubergine," she corrects),
the campaign-rally photo of her in a University of Texas cheerleader outfit
and rubber Bush mask, the Soviet-era propaganda artwork that lines the
walls.
I compliment her digs, telling her that her apartment looks like a May Day
parade at Studio 54. She rolls her eyes, then dictates what she assumes will
be my lead, insinuating that she is a Greenwich Village pinko. Swiping my
recorder, as she'll do freely throughout the afternoon whenever she wants to
stress a point, she says, "Testing. Is this thing on? I AM NOT the vast
left-wing conspiracy. Okay? Bill Kristol, are you listening?"
It's easy to see why the New York Times's Frank Bruni--himself just out with
a Bush campaign book, "Ambling Into History"--describes Pelosi as "the
unrivaled queen of the pack when it came to self-amusement and
consequences-be-damned diversion." While his descriptions of her read like
harmless throwaway color (she'd pretend to be the campaign's cruise
director, when not heading off to Kmart to buy "festive underwear"), Pelosi
bristles at such characterizations, saying she was extremely dedicated to
her work. In her year and a half as NBC's on-the-bus Bush shadow, she didn't
make it back to her Manhattan apartment once. And since she didn't have the
luxury of going home, she says she was forced to purchase Kmart's "Hello
Kitty" underwear. "It's all they had," she says, genuinely peeved.
"The pack is very serious," says Pelosi. "But I'm a person, not a pack." She
is so pleased with this line ("I love it, it's really working for me") that
she has made it one of her six permanent talking points, which she allows me
to read off a printout that sits next to the Mac computer where she and her
editor Aaron Lubarsky cut her film. It rankles Pelosi that journalists are
so grossly reductive. "It's what you journalists do," she says, before
emembering that she is one. "We take the most extreme thing, and make it
look like the norm."
For this reason, she has taken special care not to embarrass anyone in what
many expect to be a mockumentary. Promising that her film is not a "Bush
blooper reel" (another of her talking points), Pelosi is adamant about not
discussing what she left on the cutting-room floor. "You wanna see the movie
that no one in the movie has even seen," she scolds, "And now you have the
balls to ask for outtakes? You're sick in the head."
INSIDE, Pelosi's apartment is a constant bustle of activity. The phone rings
incessantly, a groveling procession of journalists. "What do they want?" I
ask, protectively. "A piece, baby," she says. "After you bend me over in
your article, I've got to get a publicist." The rest of the calls are from
her coterie of family and friends, many of whom are making sure their girl
isn't getting worked over by me.
It's a recurring theme all day. Even deciding where to eat sends her into
existential crisis. We settle on her favorite neighborhood greasy spoon, Joe
Jr.'s, since she fears if we go vegetarian I might portray her as one of
"those crazy liberal chicks that can't find a man." I tire of all this
journalism about journalism--it's starting to feel as though we're
play-acting a Janet Malcolm essay. I ask her why she's so distrustful of
journalists, considering she is one. "Because I know how much pain we
cause," she says.
If publicists were advising Pelosi on how to optimize buzz, they would
probably encourage her to cause more pain. What better way to attract
attention and a deep-pockets distributor (which Pelosi still lacks) than
spraying the leg of what many deem an unbearably respectable post-9/11
George Bush? But it's a fight she has no stomach for. "The truth is, in the
end, I had a very nice relationship with [Bush], and that was the beauty of
it. A girl who had been indoctrinated in the Democratic party, who'd been
raised to believe Democrats were always right, actually developed a good
relationship with this Republican son of a president whose father's
positions my mom would go on the House floor and attack."
It may be her political lineage that explains her atypical respect for
politicians. While Pelosi eschews serious policy debates ("there's not one
moment of political substance in this movie"), she's not only the daughter
of the House minority whip, but the granddaughter of a three-term mayor of
Baltimore, Thomas D'Alesandro Jr. An old-school machine pol from Little
Italy, he was every bit as colorful as Alexandra. According to Paul Taylor's
book "See How They Run," at one press conference, after a reporter asked a
hostile question by saying his news desk wanted to know, D'Alesandro pressed
his ear to his own desk, pretended a secret was being imparted, then
announced, "My desk wants me to tell your desk to go f-- itself."
In press notices, Pelosi's film has inevitably been twinned with Bruni's
book. Each provides as vivid a picture of the at-ease towel-snapping
merry-prankster Bush as has been drawn. But Bruni tends to assign Big
Meaning to the smallest gesture or preference. Thus, Bush is a pop culture
illiterate because he's unfamiliar with HBO's "Sex and the City." The fact
that Bush regularly ate peanut butter sandwiches revealed that "he preferred
the old to the new, the tried to the untested." Perhaps so. But maybe he
just liked peanut butter sandwiches. Pelosi seems much truer to Bush's own
spirit. "He's a simple guy. He hates to be psychoanalyzed. So I didn't
psychoanalyze him," Pelosi says. "I don't think it means you're not
qualified to be leader of the free world because you don't watch 'Sex and
the City.'"
BY THE TIME I have cleared all the requisite hurdles and we have talked for
several hours, Pelosi is ready to let the movie speak for itself. She pops
the tape in her VCR, then slinks off to her room, all of a sudden the shy
artist. There's nothing to be shy about. She has delivered a tautly paced,
visual Boys on the Bus.
Complementing her bemused voiceovers is a supporting cast of weary newspaper
hacks who perfectly distill the absurdity of the never-ending campaign. It's
all here: the go-to-hell gastronomic excesses (one female reporter eats
seven donuts in a sitting), the folksy wisdom of the American people (a
voter moons Bush's whistlestop train tour with gluteal graffiti reading
"Raise Minimum Wage"), the random acts of senseless celebrity (in one
post-debate spin room, Erin Brockovich shows up for no apparent reason,
while the Financial Times's Richard Wolffe sums up the scene as "a lot of
really well paid people trying to convince a lot of other really well paid
people that we know what's going on in ordinary people's minds").
But the main story is the playful jabbing between Pelosi and Bush. Bush
adviser Mark McKinnon, the only member of Team Bush who has seen the film,
and who loves it, says Pelosi was better than nearly anybody at drawing Bush
out. "She didn't fit the typical profile of a Washington press corps
member," he says. "She's purple, for one. [Pelosi often favors purple garb.]
She's irreverent. She's the sort of person who's turned inside out--all the
emotions are right there."
While everyone knows of Bush's penchant for dispensing nicknames like Pez
candies, we have seen the real George W. only through a glass darkly--thanks
to circumstantial necessity and his control-freak handlers. But Pelosi's
full airing of his charm offensives is superior to previous accounts in the
way eating chocolate is superior to reading about someone else eating it.
Hopelessly lowbrow, Bush is blessed with matchless comic timing. We see him
posing as a chirpy male steward, welcoming reporters on the plane, then
angrily snapping at them when they ask for peanuts. We see him reprising his
male cheerleader days, pretzel-ing his body into letters to spell "Victory"
after Super Tuesday. At one photo op, Pelosi accosts Karl Rove with her
shaky hand-held camera. "Why are you lying?" she asks. "I'm not a
journalist," Rove calmly replies. "I'm not a liar." Someone grabs the camera
and turns the tables on Pelosi, prompting her to distance herself from other
journalists by saying "I don't like these guys." "You don't like me?" Bush
asks, incredulous, his head popping into the frame like a groundhog emerging
from his hole, late to the party. "You call this objective journalism?"
A source of constant chiding was Pelosi's unrequited crush on Newsweek's
Trent Gegax. Bush, ever the gossipy girl, one day turns the camera on Pelosi
after noticing her taking a walk with Gegax. "It's none of my business what
your private life is like," he winds up, "But let me ask you this question,
was that just a social encounter with Newsweek man?" Pelosi replies that she
was merely discussing Bush's tax plan with a fellow member of the press
corps. "And you felt like you had to hold his hand in order to amplify the
discussion?" he presses. Before she can gather her wits, he moves in for the
kill: "Is it true you believe a person of your stature can go one solid week
without bathing?"
For a year, Bush lugs Pelosi and company around the country, from a
candlepin bowling meet-and-greet to a snowmobile photo op in New Hampshire.
They often end up hating not only him for it, but themselves as well.
"Mooooo," groans the Dallas Morning News's Wayne Slater, as he is again
herded like cattle. At a sub-freezing airport rally in Iowa, the Houston
Chronicle's R.G. Ratcliffe, who possesses a walrus mustache and a hangdog
disposition, explains, "The only reason we're out here is in case Bush comes
out, slips on the ice, and falls down. 'Cause we're vicious predators." From
his airplane seat, Richard Wolffe once again nicely sums up the whole
experience: "The great thing about this story is that we can pretend that
it's somehow serious. Of course, it is serious. . . . But at the same time,
most of our time is spent doing really stupid things, in stupid places with
stupid
people."
Through it all, Bush commands the stage in the back of the plane. He proudly
models his western wear. He eats cheese doodles out of plastic airline cups.
He lobbies Pelosi for her vote, telling her, "If I lose, you're out of work,
you're off the plane, baby." When she asks why she shouldn't vote for
someone who will protect the little guy, he earnestly declares, "I am the
little guy. My brother's 6'3". Have you noticed that? I'm about 5'11"."
In an unexpectedly poignant moment on the plane, Bush tries to swim around
Pelosi's queries as to what's changed since their odyssey started. He jokes
that his daughters went off to college, that the Rangers are in last place,
that his hair is turning gray. But she presses him for a serious answer. He
cocks his head, joylessly holding his Buckler near-beer, and with a resigned
sigh, unaware of what the next year will bring, he says, "Let's see, I
started off as a cowboy. I'm now a statesman."
All told, "Journeys with George" lets George be George, or as George as he
can be, considering that he was withstanding the constant scrutiny of
hypercritical observers whose best days at the office came when Bush
announced that he wanted to eliminate trade "bariffs and terriers."
Pelosi helpfully suggests that a good talking point for me regarding her
movie would be to say that "it's better than 'Apocalypse Now.'" It's not.
But among its finest moments--and the entire film is almost nothing but fine
moments--is one that she simply narrates. Pelosi had conducted a
super-secret margarita-fueled straw poll among reporters in the back of the
plane about who they thought would win the election. Most predicted Al Gore.
Somebody leaked the results to outside media. Embarrassed by the disclosure,
and fearful that it would cost them access to Bush, most of the pack refused
to come near Pelosi the next day. But in an act of kindness, Bush did. In
Pelosi's telling, he said, "When they see me talking to you, they're gonna
act like they're your friends again. But these people aren't your friends.
They can say what they want about me. But at least I know who I am, and I
know who my friends are."
* Matt Labash is senior writer at The Weekly Standard.
--------------------------
NBC SUITS RAP SORKIN AFTER BUSH 'COURAGE' SLAM
WEST WING's Aaron Sorkin landed in the hotseat with NBC executives late
Sunday after he mocked President's Bush courage and ripped his own network's
news anchor in an interview set for release on Monday.
According to publishing sources, Sorkin has told the NEW YORKER: "It's
absolutely right that at this time we're all laying off the [Bush]
bubblehead jokes... but the truth is we're simply pretending to believe that
Bush exhibited unspeakable courage at the World Series..., or that he, by
God, showed those terrorists by going to Salt Lake City and jumbling the
first line of the Olympic opening ceremony."
"Mr. Sorkin is way out of bounds, and his comments certainly do not, I
repeat, do not represent the view of NBC, or anyone I know who works here,
or our advertisers," said a top NBC executive from New York, who asked not
to be named...
NEW YORKER reporter Tad Friend has penned the high-impact Talk of the Town
which features the controversial Sorkin comments.
An early rush of the story was already causing a commotion in Burbank at
NBC's entertainment headquarters.
"I think Aaron would be better served focusing on the production of his
show," said a source close to NBC entertainment president Jeff Zucker. "I am
not sure he is aware just how inappropriate and damaging this might be for
us. I've already got a dozen annoying phone calls here from people screaming
about 'the Mushroom Guy.' Whether he likes it or not, he does represent NBC
and I know the folks over at Warner Brothers plan to sit down with Aaron to
express their concerns."
The NEW YORKER names Sorkin "the country's loyal opposition" in the report
set to run in the mag's March 4 editions.
Sorkin tells Friend: "It's absolutely right that at this time we're all
laying off the [Bush] bubblehead jokes. But that's a far cry from what the
Times and CNN and others on whom we rely for unvarnished objectivity are
telling us, which is that 'My God! On September 12th he woke up as Teddy
Roosevelt! He became the Rough Rider!'"
Of NBC's own look at a day in the life of the Presidency, 'The Bush White
House: Inside the Real West Wing,' which aired as the lead-in to a WEST WING
repeat a few weeks ago, Sorkin charges: "The White House pumped up the
President's schedule to show him being much busier and more engaged than he
is, and Tom Brokaw let it happen?"
Sorkin continues: "The show was a valentine to Bush. That illusion may be
what we need right now, but the truth is we're simply pretending to believe
that Bush exhibited unspeakable courage at the World Series by throwing out
the first pitch at Yankee Stadium, or that he, by God, showed those
terrorists by going to Salt Lake City and jumbling the first line of the
Olympic opening ceremony.
"The media is waving pom-poms, and the entire country is being polite,"
Sorkin declares.
"I just began reading Frank Bruni's campaign book AMBLING INTO HISTORY: THE
UNLIKELY ODYSSEY OF GEORGE W. BUSH which begins with Candidate Bush at a
service in Texas for seven people who were killed in a church by a crazy
gunman. Bruni describes Bush making goofy faces at the press, and it reminds
you of a junior high schooler on a museum field trip."
Sorkin tells the mag that he is planning to revisit the BUSH-GORE Florida
showdown in an upcoming episode.
President Josiah Bartlet [played by actor Martin Sheen, who has called Bush
a white knuckled drunk] is up for re-election this November. "Bartlet is
going to be running against Governor Robert Ritchie, of Florida, who's not
the sharpest tool in the box but who's raised a lot of money and is very
popular with the Republican Party,? Sorkin says.
"It was frustrating watching Gore try so hard not to appear smart in the
debates. Why not just say 'Here's my fucking résumé, what do you got?' We're
a completely fictional, nonpolitical show, but one of our motors is doing
our version of the old Mad magazine 'Scenes We'd Like to See.' And so to an
extent we're going to rerun the last election and try a few different plays
than the Gore campaign did." By Matt Drudge
--------------------------
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