- Remember, way back in December 2000, after the U.S. Supreme
Court finally stole, er, ruled that George W. Bush would become the next
President of the United States?
One of the primary themes to emerge - from the ornate hotel lobbies of
Washington, from the mouths of AM talk radio hosts, from the new regime's
sneering acolytes in cowboy hats and fur-trimmed coats - was that at last,
finally, grown-ups would be running Washington, D.C. No more semen-stained
dresses. No more fags in uniform and half-assed missile attacks. No more
her. No more children running the world.
Wrong.
At least with Clinton you knew that the most powerful man in the world
had reached adolescence, if not much beyond it. But all current evidence
suggests that the world is now being run by 7-year-olds.
Oh, to be sure, petulant little children are announcing themselves all
around the world these days, from surly little bullies like Ahmad Chalabi
(who, after spending years on various playgrounds stealing other kids'
lunch money, have come home to be handed a shiny new bicycle called Iraq),
to the angry little brat in North Korea trying to get his parent's attention
("I've got uranium now!" "Now I've got a missile!"
"Now I'm arming it! Watch me! I really am!" "I said I really
am! I mean it this time!!"). Kim Jong II needs time out and a nap;
Chalabi needs reform school.
But the most alarming spectacle is in Washington itself, where Peter Pan
went and recruited his whole grade school class.
The result is calamity almost beyond words to describe: an appetite for
cool comic-book foreign policy, emphasis on blowing stuff up, combined
with a Never-Never Land insistence on how the world works and economics
learned from watching older siblings play Monopoly.
Little kids, you'll recall, can be incredibly cruel. And so it is in D.C.
these days, a dramatic step down from the last depressing administration,
where the Clinton crew (including, no doubt, Janet Reno) had at least discovered
girls. This collection hasn't even matured enough yet to learn right from
wrong, or that actions have consequences, or even to experience the essential
step in human development of understanding that the world doesn't start
and stop with them, that other people think and act and feel just like
they do. Empathy. Instead, this bunch stays at home, watches TV, and plays
army all day. It's a nice day; they should at least go outside and play.
Clinton needed to be grounded. Junior needs to have his toys taken away.
You want proof? What was Junior's sole major "accomplishment"
before daddy's friends got him elected governor of Texas? He used daddy's
allowance money and bought a baseball team. These are rich children. Too
much attention is being paid to "rich," and not enough to "children."
But more and more, the emperor's outgrown clothes are showing, especially
in recent days as the little tyke has finally been confronted in public
with truths that contradict his carefully constructed play world. First,
he really did go outside and play, to Africa, just to get away from it.
But reality dogged him there, too, so mostly he's been pouting and insisting
that the tooth fairy really does exist, there is a Santa Claus, Saddam
really did buy uranium from Niger. ("And all that other stuff I made
up last week is true, too!")
Frankly, the pile of toys Junior's no longer interested in is starting
to clutter the living room floor, and Junior also keeps tripping over his
now-discarded Disney videos, too. (He's not much for reading.) It's not
like he's ever learned, or been made, to clean up his own messes. And he
still believes all the stories in those old videos, too - Iraq's mystery
weapons in trailers, made out of propane tanks, and the cool spy-movie
ties to Al-Qaeda and stuff. He still can't tell fact from fiction.
But confronted with it, he's reacting the way many small, spoiled kids
do - by blaming his friends, starting with the one he doesn't know very
well, the guy who already lived in his new neighborhood when he got here,
little Georgie Tenet. ("Hey, I only made him fall on a play sword!
It didn't really hurt.") Every time Junior does this, he squeezes
his eyes real tight and hopes it'll all just go away so he can go play
army s'more. (He's also supposed to be doing homework - he hates math!
- but video games are more fun.)
The other little kids in Junior's clubhouse are acting about the same way
- except for little Rummy, who likes to torture the neighbor's cats when
nobody's looking. Rummy's gonna be trouble when he gets older.
For years, the adults around Junior and his little pals have been making
excuses for their behavior. All kids are above average. It was a misunderstanding.
He didn't mean to break it. He's really not that dumb. He just learns differently.
Isn't he cute? The parents are rich, so teachers are circumspect, even
when the extra lessons they give don't stick or he makes Family Circus-style
mispronouncements.
But the behavior coming out of Washington these days has become too destructive,
too aberrant to ignore, as it sometimes does when spoiled kids are never
reigned in from their excesses. These kids are very spoiled, and their
excesses are scaring all the adults in the neighborhood, if not the world.
Frankly, it would be a huge improvement if this batch got old enough to
discover girls.
But that's a long way away, and meantime they're really, really wed to
their fantasies and their cruelty and their denials. And their moms and
dads don't seem to care. Many, many people could die before Junior and
his friends get old enough that they start to learn right from wrong.
-
- At this point, the best hope is that they move to another
neighborhood.
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- © 2003 Independent Media Institute. All rights reserved.
Reproduction by Syndication Service only.
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