By Jonah Goldberg
Saturday, March 14, 2015
As Bill Clinton said when the harem girls on Jeffrey
Epstein’s plane finally announced they were over international waters: “Where
to begin?”
One of my favorite movie clichés is the bit where the old
pros — and maybe one eager rookie — get together for one last job. I’m thinking
of movies like The Magnificent Seven, or The Return of the Magnificent Seven,
or the first five minutes of the under-appreciated Extreme Prejudice. The collection of experts at the beginning of
The Andromeda Strain is a great variant of the genre and so is the whole
“There’s an Animal in Trouble” theme song from the Wonderpets and the first
half of The Blues Brothers. But perhaps more apt would be the hunt for, or
reuniting of, veteran grifters for a long con, like in The Sting or the Ocean’s
Eleven franchise.
Anyway, the ChappaDataQuitIt or E-PotDome story (okay,
we’re still looking for a better nickname) reminds me of those kinds of movies.
The silent whistle has been blown. The sleepers activated. The old timers have
been notified. I like to imagine Lanny Davis right in the middle of a meeting
with an African dictator when, suddenly, his assistant hands him a note. All it
reads is “Cankles Is Down.” Lanny abruptly terminates the meeting, pushes back
a briefcase full of krugerrands, and races to some hellish Third World airport,
telling his aide, “Let the Redskins know they’re on their own. The Clintons
need me.”
Flash to a canoe on the banks of the bayou. James
Carville has just caught a catfish with his bare hands and proceeds to tear
apart the wriggling fish, Gollum-like. He eats the entrails first. Then,
suddenly, a flare goes off above the tree line. That’s the signal. He throws
the bulk of the carcass into the river, where gators churn the water to grab it
now that the apex predator has departed. He makes his way to the shoulder of a
dirt road where a limousine is waiting to get him to an MSNBC studio as fast as
possible. His suit and tie, neatly pressed, are waiting for him along with as
many hot towels as he may need to remove the fish viscera.
David Brock slinks out of his leather onesie and races to
his command center, bustling with Dorito-dust frosted 20-somethings at computer
terminals. “This is a level-one-alpha scenario. Cancel all leave. Turn off all
X-boxes . . .”
Sidney Blumenthal, consciously dressed like that French
guy in The Matrix, leaves his table-for-one, and heads home to sacrifice some
creatures to Baal in preparation.
They’re all coming home.
Save for one. Poor Geraldo Rivera, locked in a reinforced
steel cage deep in the bowels of News Corp, is pacing his cell like a vampire’s familiar ordered to return to his
master but unable to. The sounds of his howling, can be heard, ever so faintly,
in the background during the O’Reilly Factor. Poor Greg Gutfeld has been tasked
with keeping him locked up and is using his cattle prod a bit more than
necessary . . .
And scene.
The fact that Team Clinton is relying on the old rat
squad once again is vastly more significant than most commentators have
suggested. Yes, yes, it’s bad politics. A candidate looking to offer a fresh
face forward, figuratively speaking, has no choice but to keep his or her own
face (John Kerry notwithstanding). But she surely has plenty of options for who
she picks to represent her in public. Mrs. Clinton has millions and millions of
dollars at her disposal. She has people placed at the highest reaches of the
government and the media. There are over 200 people working, formally or
informally, for her as policy advisors already. And yet she chooses to get the
old band back together instead.
Why? There are many possible answers, but the only
plausible one is that a Clinton only trusts Clinton loyalists. This fits
everything we know about the Clintons. And it speaks volumes about the
thickness of her bubble.
It’s Hillary All the Way Down
But it also speaks even louder about what kind of
president she would be. If you want to know what Hillary Clinton would be like
as president, you’re seeing it right now. There is no other Hillary. This is
her.
This was the point of my LA Times column on Tuesday
(which I had to tear up and rewrite for syndication after her press
conference). The pathetic parsing and dishonest dissembling (excuse the
redundancy, I was going for alliteration), on display in her U.N. press
conference is exactly what you’d see from Madame President. For 30 years,
Hillary Clinton has been defensive bordering on paranoia (with occasional
forays far over the border). For 30 years, Hillary Clinton has responded to
every challenge — not just every scandal, but every challenge (like HillaryCare)
— by convening huge task forces of loyalists. For 30 years, she’s hidden from
making tough decisions until events forced her to make them. For 30 years she’s
relied on the counsel of Wormtongues like Sidney Blumenthal.
As I wrote before her press conference:
Eventually, Clinton will emerge to answer questions about her private email system and her alleged failure to provide relevant documents to Congress. How forthcoming she’ll be, and on what timetable, depends on how big a mess she’s in.But let’s assume there are no damning emails lurking anyplace where they can still be found. Or even give her the benefit of the doubt and assume she did nothing wrong. Her utterly typical response so far still raises questions that are more interesting than “Where’s Hillary?”Is this how she would run her presidency? Do we want a president whose first response to trouble is to retreat to her bunker?
Hillary wants Americans to think that a Clinton
Restoration will bring back the economy and global peace of the 1990s. (Leave
aside the poltroonish notion that electing her would bend the universe back two
decades.) So the last thing Hillary Clinton needs at this stage is to telegraph
to the world that a Clinton Restoration will also restore the metaphysical
tackiness that came with their rule. And yet that is exactly what she’s doing,
not merely by deploying her minions but by once again donning the blouse of
victimhood and exercising the same legalistic prevarications that made
“parsing” a household word in the 1990s.
How to Listen to a Clinton
Oh, one quick point about that press conference, and
really all statements by the Clintons. This is really just a tip for the
young’ns who didn’t live through the Clinton era. When listening to a Clinton,
the trick is to listen to what they’re not saying. Bill Clinton is, naturally,
the master of such things. Listening to him tell the truth is like listening to
one hand clapping. Hillary has no natural gifts for lying, but she has studied
at the feet of the master for most of her adult life. The result is that she
can play the notes well enough, but she can’t quite find the magic in the
music.
So at her press conference this week, she said, “I did
not e-mail any classified material to anyone on my e-mail. There is no
classified material.”
She doesn’t say whether she received any classified
material. She then says, “There is no classified material.” As A. B. Stoddard
noted on Special Report last night, “is” is the Clinton’s favorite verb. Bill
breathed new life into it and she’s keeping the flame alive.
Then Hillary said:
In going through the e-mails, there were over 60,000 in total, sent and received. About half were work-related and went to the State Department and about half were personal that were not in any way related to my work. I had no reason to save them, but that was my decision because the federal guidelines are clear and the State Department request was clear.
She goes on in
this vein. “I didn’t see any reason to keep them.” And so on.
This makes it sound like in the natural course of events
her e-mails would just go away. “I chose not to keep all those wire hangers
when I moved.” “Let’s not save the rest of this pizza because we’re going on
vacation tomorrow. Just throw it out.”
But, as Jack Shafer notes, what Hillary really means when
she says she didn’t “keep” the e-mails is, “I ordered my staff to delete the
e-mails.” If you say “didn’t keep,” it sounds innocent. If you say, “I
destroyed them,” it sounds Nixonian.
Also left out is the manner in which she erased them. She
makes it sound like it was all junk about yoga routines and wedding planning.
But even she doesn’t know that. Clinton’s team did keyword searches for
official e-mails, culled those out of the pile, and then simply destroyed the
rest. Such searches, I am told, do not search file attachments. This is the
electronic-records equivalent of grabbing your “official” payroll records and
then pouring gasoline on all of your off-book records and throwing a match on
the floor as you walk out.
In fact, I’m kind of amazed that Hillary Clinton didn’t
ask Al Sharpton for some “IT help.” After all, it’s a short trip from Harlem to
Chappaqua, even with the back of your Escalade loaded with cans of gasoline.
The Perils of Identity Politics
In case you hadn’t noticed, Mrs. Clinton plans on running
for president with a bold and exciting platform of not having male genitalia.
She’s far more open about this agenda than Barack Obama was about his — usually
unstated — vow to be the first black president of the United States.
It’s not a terrible strategy, necessarily, though I think
it has more flaws than have been widely discussed. We’ll leave those flaws for
a future date. (That’s the great advantage of the Clintons — if you’ve got a
criticism to make about them, they’ll always provide you with an opportunity
down the road to make it again. It’s a bit like having a surface-to-air missile
system you really wanted to use against Godzilla; there’s always another
Godzilla attack coming.)
Here’s the problem. No human being is a category of
person. Categories are abstractions instantiated in our minds that we use to
organize experiences. Don’t take my word for it, just ask Aristotle.
Yes, all human beings fall into various categories of
people. But those categories don’t tell you all that much about the people
within them. Imagine you own an auto-repair business. You need to hire a new
mechanic. One day a guy named Todd shows up and applies for the position. Todd
just happens to be a seven-foot-tall, gay, left-handed, Muslim Asian-American
with a unibrow and a mild form of Tourette’s syndrome. In his off hours he’s a
big fan of anarcho-capitalist short stories, but he votes for the Green Party
in every election. In short, Todd’s an interesting guy. He’s also a fantastic
mechanic. And once you can get past the fact that he occasionally shouts “Your
mother sews socks that smell”* and “Allahu akbar! This muffler is a mess!” you
realize he’s a huge asset to your business.
Then one day Todd tells you that he’s going to quit
because he wants to help his boyfriend Chad open a homoerotic
necrophilia-themed nightclub in Miami called “Hanging Chad’s.” Now you need a
new mechanic. Odds are that when you post the job listing at Monster.com or
wherever, you won’t list any of those things as requirements. “Seeking Very
Tall Gay Muslim Who Likes Randian Fan Fiction, Voted for Nader, and Who Shouts
Profanity at Awkward Moments to Fix Cars. Must Have Unibrow and Supply Own Set
of Left-Handed Tools”: This is not the best way to attract the best mechanic.
In other words, categories are interesting, even
important, but they don’t tell you as much about a person as some claim.
It’s perfectly fine to want a woman to be president of
the United States. All things being equal, I guess I might prefer it, too. But
the question before the country isn’t, “Should we elect a category?” It’s,
“Should we elect Hillary Clinton?” And these are wildly different questions.
She’d “accomplish” being the first female president in the first second of her
presidency. She’d then be Hillary Clinton for the next 126 million seconds of
her presidency (Someone will check my math, I’m sure).
When someone asks, “Wouldn’t it be great to have a female
president?” the correct answer, with varying degrees of enthusiasm, to be sure,
is “Yes.”
When asked, “Wouldn’t it be great to have Hillary Clinton
as president?” The correct answer, again with varying degrees of enthusiasm, is
“Oh, dear God, no. No, no, no. No.”
What Hillary Clinton is trying to do is to make these
questions synonymous. If you’re against having Hillary Clinton as president,
you’re against having a woman president. It was a game that Barack Obama played
with some sophistication. The “Ready for Hillary” crowd is about as subtle as a
case of the clap.
Which brings me back to where I started. The thrill of
having a woman president — even if you’re the kind of person who gets thrilled
by such things — will be temporary, at least for most of us. The tedious,
grating ache, that another President Clinton would generate will last a lot
longer. Hillary Clinton wants people to think voting for her will deliver
something new, fresh, and exciting. What this utterly typical PR fiasco shows
is that what they’ll actually get is familiar, tired, pathetic, dishonest, and
embarrassing.
*Oh so, here’s the footnote for that asterisk after “Your
mother sews socks that smell!” Saturday Night Live did a great parody of The
Exorcist like 30 years ago. Laraine Newman played the Linda Blair role, and
instead of shouting the nasty line from the movie (which, out of common
decency, never mind respect for spam filters, I will not repeat) they changed
it to “Your mother sews socks that smell.” The funny thing is I always
remembered it as “Your mother shucks socks and tells.” But you get the picture.
My favorite reediting of a profane line for broadcast TV, by the way, is in
reruns of Scarface when Tony Montana says, “Manny, this town’s just a great big
chicken waiting to get plucked!”
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