My first thought was this: There must be more to "Dead Certain: The Presidency of George Bush," than this morning's Washington Post's peek preview allows.

I nearly fell back to sleep reading about GQ journalist Robert Draper's new expose -- another of those "inside the White House," Woodward-type tell-alls -- nevertheless I read on, hoping to glean something of fresh insight into how such a gang of D- mentalities could produce such A+ catastrophes.

When no insights availed themselves -- hence, in turn, when I found nothing new to say about the newest expose -- it dawned on me. It's all about that old cliche: the banality of evil. Just as real-life mafiosos more closely resemble your garden-variety, Badabing street thug than a romanticized Godfather, the neocon crew in and surrounding the Oval Office is less a fascinating study in Machiavellian power than self-obsessed bores.

The only thing intriguing about them is how uninteresting they are -- starting, of course, at the top. "Draper writes that Bush was 'gassed' after an 80-minute bike ride at his Crawford, Tex., ranch on the day before Hurricane Katrina struck the Gulf Coast and was largely silent during a subsequent video briefing from then-FEMA Director Michael D. Brown and other top officials making preparations for the storm."

The president didn't even bumble his way through the impending crisis. He was focused elsewhere, concentrating on his bike ride; and then, likely, on how to shave a couple minutes from his time. The inexorable fact that a monstrous typhoon was about to obliterate a major city and make refugees of hundreds of thousands was but a distant and meddlesome distraction; one that others -- the little people, the little staffers -- could worry their little heads over.

But we already knew that about the commander in chief. He positively oozes with faraway obliviousness, like a Louis XVI tinkering with his locksmithing as his own Orléans is about to blow him away. Neither saw what was coming, because, quite simply, neither was watching.

Yet the little staffers weren't paying much attention, either, "racked" as they were "by ... internal dissent and infighting." A mental-power vacuum at the top tends to cause that -- and cause it, it did. Draper "quotes [Ed] Gillespie as telling one Republican while running interference for Alito's Supreme Court nomination: 'I'm going crazy over here. I feel like a shuttle diplomat, going from office to office. No one will talk to each other.'"

And there wasn't much point in their talking to the Commander Guy, since what little thought he did give to pet projects came in the form of dreamy fantasies and delusions that sycophantic subordinates -- those jockeying for more power dispensed from the top -- never disturb:

"Several of Bush's top advisers believe that the president's view of postwar Iraq was significantly affected by his meeting with three Iraqi exiles in the Oval Office several months before the 2003 invasion, Draper reports. He writes that all three exiles agreed without qualification that 'Iraq would greet American forces with enthusiasm. Ethnic and religious tensions would dissolve with the collapse of Saddam's regime. And democracy would spring forth with little effort -- particularly in light of Bush's commitment to rebuild the country.'"

But, again, we already knew this stuff.

Perhaps "Dead-Headed: The Presidency of George Bush," would have been a more accurate title than "Dead Certain." The latter implies a certain devotion to thoughtfulness, which simply wasn't there.

Shallow pomposity and bombast, you bet. Self-inflated egos, sure. An unshakable sense of royal entitlement, no doubt. But certainty from thought? I think not. Just a certain and plain, everyday, transparent banality that underlies and typifies monarchically destructive flops.



***

Please remember, you may always ...

make a donation to this site.

THANKS!

P.M.

(p.s.: My Paypal account's email address, which you'll need, is pmcarp at mchsi.com)

