United States President George W. Bush talked about Iraqi President Saddam Hussein’s perceived penchant for attacking his enemies first. “We cannot ignore history,” Bush stated. “We must not ignore reality.”
That was about the time my brain seized up. It’s not that I couldn’t think; I was genuinely worried about whether David Letterman was truly happy with his current network, and concerned to find out what the real problem was with Oprah and Dr. Phil. But, when I tried to think critically about such things, my brain hung up a sign that read: “Forget it, comedy-boy. You’re on your own.”
“Come on!” I protested. “This is a no-brainer! A slam dunk! Fish in a freaking barrel!”
“La la la la la,” my brain replied. Apparently, in these days of diminished expectations, even a no-brainer isn’t what it used to be.
Bush, you see, has made it an important aspect of his foreign policy to completely ignore the fact that the United States actively supported Iraq’s belligerence (most prominently during its war with Iran) or that it led Hussein to believe it would (by tacitly approving his invasion of Kuwait). That this proponent of political Alzheimer’s is now using history to support a position he holds is bad enough.
But, it gets worse. The American government steadfastly refuses to acknowledge that the policies of military adventurism and support for brutal dictatorships that it has followed since the end of WW II has made it despised by many people throughout the world, an anger that partially explains the terrorist attack on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon. Those who dared to refer to history in this context were quickly branded traitors by Bush and his supporters.
Faced with two equally plausible satirical scenarios based on a single public statement, my capacity for critical intellectual thought broke down. Suddenly, I understood how HAL 9000 felt at the end of 2001: A Space Odyssey. I went for a walk, hoping that the fresh air would clear my head. To no avail: when I returned, my brain was singing, “Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer, do…”
With the (hopefully temporary) suspension of my critical faculties, I began to see the world differently. I agonized over the possibility that Ed Balfour was not strong enough in net to be able to lead the Leafs to a Stanley Cup. I realized that even though he was a lightweight clown, Mayor Mel Lastman’s shallow boosterism really was good for the city of Toronto. David Caruso’s return to episodic television began to matter to me.
I asked Dr. Political Science what to do. He told me to spend a week in the Bahamas, adding: “But, I tell that to everybody. I’m not a medical doctor, you know.” I asked Missed Manners for help, but she hung up on me.
I was sinking fast. I was outraged that Deputy Prime Minister John Manley would talk about severing ties with the Monarchy during the Queen’s visit to Canada. I considered the possibility that OJ really was innocent and that Madonna could act.
In desperation, I spent several hours contemplating Alexander Pope’s “A Modest Proposal.” I chanted “You don’t use a cannon to catch a butterfly.” It helped.
Then, President Bush warned Iraqi officials that they could be tried as war criminals if they followed Saddam Hussein’s orders. The same day, the European Union announced that it would exempt some American citizens from prosecution by the International Criminal Court. The Bush administration, which wanted all Americans exempted from its jurisdiction, refuses to recognize the ICC, whose mandate is to try war criminals.
A few more fuses in my brain blew. I had to give serious attention to the possibility that Gary Condit played a role in the death of intern Chandra Levy. It was important.
Realizing that I couldn’t go on like this without doing irreparable damage to my critical faculties, I took drastic action. I spent the next 36 hours watching the cream of cinematic satire: Kubrick’s Dr. Strangelove and Clockwork Orange; Chayefsky’s Network and The Hospital; Lindsay Anderson’s Mick Travis trilogy (If…, O, Lucky Man and Britannia Hospital); Sunset Boulevard and The Player.
The experience has left me weak, but I think I’m cured. Madonna’s chronic inability to act is insignificant in world history, and David Letterman’s happiness at his current network is really of no interest to anybody but he and his bosses. Gary Condit and Chandra Levy is…nope, it’s not important, either.
Some people have suggested that satire is easy, a cheap response to the horrors of the world. Don’t believe it. Those of us on the front lines fighting for meaning in the world put our minds on the line every time we go out there. Be thankful it isn’t you.