Making up for last week’s power outage, many a manic worm has slimed his way to the head of this week’s enemy class. Immediately we must recognize the Congressional Eight — Reps. Bishop, Meek, Strickland, Cannon, Paul, Terry, Flake and Ryan — who voted against your right to enjoy a quiet dinner in front of the TV without being disturbed by a phone call from an ocean-front selling salesman in Arizona. Is it too late to filibuster the Senate confirmation of the federal judges who’ve been bought by the telemarketer cabal? Lee R. West and Edward R. Nottingham weren’t household names before this — now they’re synonymous with Ammonium and Pine-Sol under Enemy Central’s sink. Notice the judges didn’t list their home numbers in their rulings. Guess they didn’t want to receive 50 million phone calls during their next candle-lit supper.
Remember Howard Dean? He was the Dems’ Howie Doodie until Wesley Clark was whistled in. Now he’s fighting for what passes as his political life. He’s pulling out all stops, including an effort to preempt this authoritative column. Yesterday, in a last gasp, he announced at a memorable debate, “We need to remember that the enemy here is George Bush, not each other,” whereupon all the Democrats assembled began searching the room for signs of George Bush. Too late they learned that Dean had lied again. Bush wasn’t there. Clark was relieved. No one could pin the lie on him. But Dean stood by his statement. Bush, not Saddam, is the enemy. Which is how all non-Dems have understood the Dems’ priorities for some time.
Here it is Friday again, and a good chance that Uncle Teddy will again see it as another opportunity to celebrate Good Friday early. A week ago today he dropped the pants from his mouth and binge-slapped his good friend President George as a pursuer of fraud, bribery, and other old Kennedy political standbys. By all accounts, it was an alarming performance, leading observers to wonder whether the declining Kennedy is experiencing residual guilt from his Chappaquiddick night or even from what he and his brothers did to sweet Hubert Humphrey in West Virginia forty-three years ago. Given the many dollars that have flown from the Kennedy family in settlements, it’s understandable testy Ted would have no grasp on outlays that do not connote bribes or hush money. But still.
The Teddy K. of California politics, Ms. Arianna née Stassinopoulos alias Huffington, not an illegal alien, alas, couldn’t keep her mouth zipped either. Substituting for her alter ego, Mr. Gary Coleman, in what passed for a gubernatorial election debate, Ms. A. proceeded to annoy the daylights out of every sentient watcher while in the process bringing the great white hope Mr. Arnie S. down to his knees like a Superman felled by kryptonite. On second thought, that was a good position for the deviant Republican to find himself in, given all confessing he should be doing. If ever the former Mr. Universe is fortunate to meet up with the Lord of the Universe, he’ll have a lot of explaining to do, starting with why vanity, empty ego, and steroids on the brain have kept him from stepping aside in favor of a serious Republican like Tom McClintock.
Bill Simon should be ashamed of himself, rushing like a starstruck groupie to endorse Arnold in the hope of having his picture taken with him. What kind of role has Arnold promised Simon in Terminator 4? Cleaning up what’s left of Arianna?
California Republicans, at least those insisting McClintock step aside because as a genuine candidate he’s making it harder to pretend that Arnie has substance, are living a death wish. Is it too late for the dolts to reconsider? It doesn’t require a genius to figure out that the recall is one election a true conservative could win — he doesn’t need 50 percent, but somewhere between 25 and 30. There aren’t that many conservatives left in California? Evidently, someone has sold them on the notion that conservatives can’t even win when the odds are stacked in their favor.
And what’s all this we’ve been hearing about Cruz Bustamante as a super Latino? He’s a California native with a lovely radio speaking voice that could easily be mistaken for Rush Limbaugh’s or Michael Reagan’s. A Sacramento Bee columnist got in trouble for suggesting Bustamante would have been a political bust had his name been Charles Bustmont, though anyone one who’s seen Cruz in action might conclude the opposite. If not for the liberal identity politics that have limited him to an ethnic role, Cruz Bustamante would have moved to Hollywood, changed his name to Charles Bustmont, and, after a bit of weight training, run the Terminator cartoon character out of town. Too mellow for his own good, Cruz Bustamante is this week’s EOW. Hard to be nice to someone who could have been a contender.