July 16, 2007--"Dirt Under My Feet"

As a current events junkie, the highlight of that aspect of my life was a visit to the National Archives to listen to the first of the Nixon Tapes when they were made public. Crunched uncomfortably at a dilapidated carrel, wearing World War II vintage headphones, I sat transfixed as I heard the scratchy but unmistakable growl of a voice that was Nixon’s conferring late into the night with John Mitchell, his political fixer and lifelong coconspirator. Clearly they had already shared at least a few drinks. If the taping system had been of higher quality, I feel certain I would have been able to pick up the sound of ice cubes clinking in Nixon’s tumbler.

Mitchell could be heard in the background assuring his Chief that all they needed to do to get Watergate behind them was squeeze this senator or put pressure on that journalist. Nixon grunted, not saying much, taking it all in. And then he said, “John. It’s over.” “No, Mr. President,” Mitchell protested; but Nixon persisted and in a mortally tired voice said, “Everything will come out. It’s too late.” And how right he was. No one ever accused Nixon of being anything but smart.

So it is a continuing pleasure of sorts that from time to time, over the decades, additional tapes have continued to be released by the Archives or the Nixon Library. Just last week, for example, more deliciousness became available to those of us who can’t get enough of Nixon. (See NY Times article linked below.)

My favorite new segments have to do with Nixon, after winning reelection in a landslide in 1972, directing his staff to plant examples in the press about how warm and caring he was. To counter the prevailing image of him as cold and unfeeling. What Nixon inimitably called “the warmth business.” About himself he said that he had been “nicey-nicey to the cabinet, staff, and Congress around Christmastime” and that he had treated cabinet and subcabinet officials “like dignified human beings and not dirt under my feet.” History, logic, and psychoanalysis teach us how difficult it is to prove a negative.

While savoring these latest Nixon tidbits, I began to hope that George Bush also has a taping system in the Oval Office. What might we overhear transpiring between our current president and his chief political strategist Karl Rove when those recordings are released by the oxymoronic George Bush Library? Since it will take at least a decade before this happens, I thought I would give you a sneak preview since, like Bush and Rove, I too believe in wiretapping:

GWB: So, Rover, how did our Rangers do yesterday?

KR: Not that badly Mr. President, we lost only two.

GWB: How could that be? We weren’t playin’ a double-header, were we?

KR: Oh, sorry, I thought you were asking about how things went down yesterday with the War. You know, with our Special Forces--those Rangers, the Fighting 75th, out there in--where were they again yesterday--Anwar [sic] or some other God-forsaken hell-hole. Two of them got blown to smithereens by an IED, those animals.

GWB: Come on now, you’re supposed to be my brain, heh-heh. I’m talking’ baseball here—about my Rangers, my Texas Rangers. How did they do last night? Teixeira, or whatever his name is, get any hits? He’s been in a slump. Kinda like me, heh-heh.

KR: You’re not in a slump or anything like it. You remember what I told you yesterday how when the going gets tough the tough . . .

GWB: Yeah, yeah [if this were on video tape we would be able to see the president dismissing his Architect with a wave of the hand]. But to tell you the truth I’m fed up with them towel-heads. I should have listened to Laura and Mother—they said I would have made a great Baseball Commissioner. I never should have let you make me president. Hell, right now I could be out in Los Angeles tryin’ to figure out what to do when Barry Bonds hits four more homeruns. Everybody’d be cheering me rather than makin’ fun of me like on Saturday Night Live.

KR: I keep begging you to forget about what those East Coast homos are saying about you. If it was up to them al Qaeda’d be running this country already. And it wouldn’t be just our women wearing burkas, if you get my meaning.

GWB: She keeps beatin’ on me to read more books. Books, books. She wants me to shut the damn TV and think about history. I don’t have time for that while we still have a chance to win the Wildcard.

KR: But you know the Rangers are in last place and . . .

GWB: Sort a like me. No, no. Don’t try to smooth things over all the time. I may not be much of a historian—that’s what I married that librarian for—but I know how to count and I also know what Yogi said about the Fat Lady and it bein’ over.

KR: You mean how it isn’t over ‘til it’s over?

GWB: Somethin’ like that. You know if he wasn’t a Yankee from New York I’d have that little Eye-talian fella come over for a visit. It would help take my mind off things. With what’s goin’ on over there and her whinin’ all the time that I should be thinkin’ about my leg-a-cy I’m about to lose my mind. I tell her that I’ll be gone by legacy time so why in heck should I care about that? She’s even arranging for some historians to come by to meet with me. Can you imagine? I’ll need to take up drinkin’ again.

KR: I wouldn’t do that if I were you. We only have 18 months to go so I would recommend that . . .

GWB: [Imagine another dismissive wave of the hand.] She gave me these books about Lincoln and Nixon to read. Can you believe it? The first one got shot and the other almost went to jail. Jeeze. She’s even got Condi beatin’ on me. That’s why I hired her in the first place. To read all that stuff and then fight around with Dick, that old pork chop, and figure out what to do. I mean, what I should decide. ‘Cause like you said, that’s me--The Decider. That decider thing was one of your real good ones Big Guy. Even better than that Bring ‘em on and Mission Accomplished. The fool press lapped it up.

KR: I’m not sure about that. Because it’s a good thing for us to have the press with their shorts in a bunch because whenever that happens the Base eats it up. They like to see their president standing tall and taking responsibility.

GWB: Well, that’s me. I take responsibility. Who stood up for that midget Scooter Libby? Who supported that Mex Gonzo? And I’m taking the heat for exercising my, what did you call it, executive sacrilege, about your emails and . . .

KR: That’s privilege, sir. Executive privilege.

GWB: Right, right. I knew that, heh-heh, I just wanted to see if you was payin’ attention.

KR: Always. [The sound of an off-mike snicker appears to be audible.]

GWB: Now, would you be a good boy and pour me some more of that Gatorade. I wish they’d let me have a real drink. All that talk about exercisin’ reminds me that I need to get upstairs and onto my treadmill.

KB: Here you go. No ice just as you like it.

GWB: And next time, make sure when I ask about the Rangers you know what I’m talkin’ about and have the scores with you. All that other shit can wait.