Dowd: Animal House Summit

The esteemed Ms. Dowd has crafted the best short character sketch I have seen recently, delineating quite a number of the characteristics of George W. that thinking, intelligent, considerate, and even empathetic folks struggle to watch without gastric distress.

I've tried to limn a few of these aspects before but generally from a state of crippled self-unawareness in the aftermath of trying to puzzle out why I am clutching the cyanide bottle and passport after being extracted from the porcelain goddess. Dowd is of stronger constitution. It's tempting to post it all, and a struggle to excerpt, but in deference to the standard 20-second attention span of today I will do the latter:

Reporters who covered W.’s 2000 campaign often wondered whether the Bush scion would give up acting the fool if he got to be the king.

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“In many regards, the Bush I knew did not seem to be built for what lay ahead,’’ wrote Frank Bruni, the Times writer who covered W.’s ascent, in his book “Ambling Into History.” “The Bush I knew was part scamp and part bumbler, a timeless fraternity boy and heedless cutup, a weekday gym rat and weekend napster, an adult with an inner child that often brimmed to the surface or burst through.”

The open-microphone incident at the G-8 lunch in St. Petersburg on Monday illustrated once more that W. never made any effort to adapt. The president has enshrined his immaturity and insularity, turning every environment he inhabits — no matter how decorous or serious — into a comfortable frat house.

No matter what the trappings or the ceremonies require of the leader of the free world, he brings the same DKE bearing and cadences, the same insouciance and smart-alecky attitude, the same simplistic approach — swearing, swaggering, talking to Tony Blair with his mouth full of buttered roll, and giving a startled Angela Merkel an impromptu shoulder rub. He can make even a global summit meeting seem like a kegger.

Catching W. off-guard, the really weird thing is his sense of victimization. He’s strangely resentful about the actual core of his job. Even after the debacles of Iraq and Katrina, he continues to treat the presidency as a colossal interference with his desire to mountain bike and clear brush.

In snippets of overheard conversation, Mr. Bush says he has not bothered to prepare any closing remarks and grouses about having to listen to other world leaders talk too long. What did he think being president was about?

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He treated Tony “As It Were” Blair like the servant in “The Remains of the Day,’’ blowing off his offer to help with the Israel-Lebanon crisis, and changing the subject from substance to fluff at one point, noting about his 60th-birthday Burberry gift: “Thanks for the sweater. Awfully thoughtful of you.’’ Then he razzed the British prime minister, who was hovering and wheedling like an abused wife: “I know you picked it out yourself.”

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He seems to have no clue that his own headlong, heedless actions in the Middle East have contributed to the deepening chaos there, and to Iran’s growing influence and America’s diminished leverage.

Mr. Bush may resent the sophistication required of a president. But when the world is going to hell, he should stop chewing and start thinking.

Who Are You? - Who-Who Hoo Hoo

(Apologies, Pete T.)

I suspect this little fellow was at least as surprised to see me as I was him, although truth be told we'd met before. I had to be informed that this is a Barred Owl, given my status as merely a birder-wannabee. But it is a huge thrill for anyone to encounter a creature like this at any time, never mind within the limits of a major metropolis. Now if only Picasa and Blogger would cooperate to the point where we could flow words around pic, or save partial post as a draft. Wild and whacky concepts I know, but I'd think the geniuses behind those pieces of software would acknowedge those are what you might call basic features. Frankly I suspect AOL's clunky infrastructure might have more than a little to do with it also. As I experience it right now, posting pictures with the "help" of these three pals is way less than satisfying.

Our President the Groper

Okay, our titular Prez said "shit" into a microphone. Hell, the titular vp said the "F" word on the floor of the house as I was led to understand a while back. These are boys putting on their crude Halloween costumes, intent on promulgating an image of power, and so self-absorbed that they might even miss an occasional social cue (putting it too politely, see below).

I'm assuming anyone so evolved as to be reading this is well aware that the multitude of gaffes by Tit George during his latest international carnival may have nadir'd in an infamous "neckrub." I'm not going to try to track down the incriminating pictorials here. It shouldn't be hard to find them. A google with "Merkel" and "neck" might be a start. In essence, your prez walked up behind the leader of Germany and spontaneously, in public, with cameras rolling, began giving her a neck massage or throttle. She did not take well to this.

The blogosphere coverage of this that I attend to has been about as entertaining as you can imagine. I will limit myself to this mild excerpt from Froomkin's daily Washington Post blog, but encourage further exploration for those still interested in democracy. This bit seems to me to perfectly embody the sad media-Bush parasitism. Even the progressive folks seem to focus on silly stuff. Yes, of course he is a dolt with no social skills! Look at his parents!! They are all deathly allergic to accountability and responsibility, dontcha know? Sucking money out of us rubes is the only thing they have. Face it - he's never seen what we would consider responsible behavior in a parent.

So, of the links here, the one that comes closest to actually offering factual meaningful insights is the last one. The rest are highly entertaining, I grant, but we have business to focus on, and the issue it seems to me is how actually sociopathic, sick, and depraved George Tit truly is.

Oh yes. And what we do about it.

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On the Crooks and Liars blog, John Amato has photos and video of -- and links about -- Bush's unsolicited neck massage of German Chancellor Angela Merkel during a G-8 session on Sunday.

The German Magazine Bild calls it "Bush's Love-Attack on Merkel" and, according to a predictably hilarious Babelfish translation , writes something along the lines of: "From the rear it creeps verschmitzt at Kanzlerin Angela Merkel near, surprises it with a lightning Massage.

James Gerstenzang of the Los Angeles Times described the incident as "a lesson in body language."

But over on the Majikthise blog, Lindsay Beyerstein writes much less charitably: "Every woman will recognize the guy who sidles up and starts 'casually' giving you a backrub without even looking at you, because he wants to preserve deniability in case you freak out. Like any practiced groper, Bush stares right past Merkel as she recoils from his touch."

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