LUDIC LOG

The recent turn of events in the September 11th hearings have turned the media spotlight fully on the Bush administration's National Security Agency adviser, Condoleezza Rice. And what we've seen has provoked a wildfire of controversy from both sides of the political fence. Rice is a polarizing figure, and often in unexpected ways: many Republicans -- never boosters of affirmative action in the best of times -- hail her as a sterling example of bootstrapping, while many Democrats -- usually keenly (over?)sensitive to racial issues, have as much as branded her a traitor to America's blacks. Meanwhile, some conservatives, turning against the Bush team for their ultra-ideologized policymaking and the perception that they've botched the war in Iraq, look at Rice as an exemplar of everything that's gone wrong with their party; while some Democrats wonder if she's being made into a patsy, forced to take the fall while those really responsible for the intelligence debacle and the race to war get off scot-free. Even her personality causes arguments: does her cold, narrow-eyed demeanor indicate Stalinist calculation or cool efficiency? After a great deal of thought, I've come to the conclusion that Condoleezza Rice can eat it.

If one can imagine a more polarizing figure than Rice in the current presidential cabinet, it would have to be Attorney General John Ashcroft. His allies paint a portrait of a man of faith, a man who approaches his duties passionately, a man who looks at his work as a calling, not a job. They see him as infinitely courageous, willing to make unpopular decisions and risk the ire of special interests and the media in order to see justice done. And they note his sterling record, his popularity amongst law & order types, and his powerful dedication to the idea of stopping terrorism before it start, of doing what must be done before innocent lives are lost, not after. But his opponents call him a demagogue, a fanatic, a crypto-fascist, a man so blinkered by his notions of religious rectitude that he chooses to enforce the law selectively to serve his faith-based agenda. They question his qualifications and impugn his motivations, and goggle at an AG so bad he makes one long for the days of Ed Meese. They openly wonder if a man so opposed to dissent, a man so contemptuous of civil rights and the American constitution, has the right to be in government at all, let alone in a position of such authority. Who's right? Who's wrong? We may never know; the debate rages on with only one thing for sure: John Ashcroft can eat it with walnuts.

In times of peace, the Secretary of Defense is a position it's easy to ignore, to gloss over, even to forget about (who today remembers Clinton's?). In times of war, he can become central to every conversation about the country's political leadership. Donald Rumsfeld is as good at ignoring criticism as he is at provoking criticism. Like many figures who assume a position of importance in wartime, he seems to engender the most fiery rhetoric imaginable; his detractors tar him as a Nazi, calling him "von Rumsfeld" and listing his similarities to Adolf Hitler. He seems almost not to appreciate the gravity of his role; what has infuriated many, even more than his possibly incompetent direction of the war in Iraq, is his utter disdain for public debate and unwillingness to engage honest criticism in a public forum. He behaves as if he is a power unto himself, not accountable to anyone, and his idiosyncratic way of speaking comes across to many as arrogant at best and sneeringly contemptuous at worst. But he is unquestionably a consummate professional, unimpeachably skilled in the areas he needs to master to perform a difficult job. He holds the position of a war power in wartime, which is a strain that would break lesser men. What his enemies see as contempt, his supporters see as bluntness, honesty, and a dislike for wasting time on fripperies. The legacy Donald Rumsfeld will leave behind is still uncertain, but it will certainly build upon the basic truth that he can eat it upstairs sideways at dinnertime.

Dick Cheney is as enigmatic a figure as has existed in American politics in generations. Most vice-presidents are invisible, but Cheney comes by his invisibility differenly; while many second-in-commands are unseen because they're unimportant, Cheney is unseen because he's hiding. He's not so much invisible as he is stealthy. Since his near-total disappearance after 9/11, this "stealth vice-presidency" has made him a figure of sport (another quality he shares with most vice-presidents), but it's an aspect that makes him all the more controversial because of the unique relationship he has -- or doesn't have -- with his boss. For Dick Cheney is often said to be the vizier, the eminence grise, the power behind the throne in the Bush cabinet. Even some of the president's biggest boosters privately admit that they get the impression that no matter how big George W. Bush talks, it's really Cheney who's calling the shots. His media invisibility and reluctance to make himself a public figure only exacerbate this perception; is Cheney hiding in some command bunker while his puppet takes the political -- and physical -- risks? When one considers his health, his record, and his often-abrasive personality, it's almost impossible to imagine him following the route of most VPs and running for the highest office after two terms of Bush. But, goes the joke, by that time, he'll already have been president for two terms, and that's the limit. In the end, it seems like an inescapable conclusion that Dick Cheney can eat it two times running.

There are many ways to approach the presidency of George W. Bush. He can be seen as a...you know what? Fuck this. Bush can eat it left, right and sideways with an appetizer of my big fat ass.