Sometimes, I imagine an alternative universe where nice things happen. Not a perfect world; I am not naive enough to dream of a world without poverty and greed and disease. Just a world where people do little things within their power to make difficult situations a bit better. Like laugh.
In my world, a reporter shows Barack Obama the cover of the New Yorker, and Obama smiles. “Yes, Michelle and I got a good laugh out of that one last night,” he says. Is it so outlandish to expect a man who projects himself as the leader of the United States to be easygoing, self-deprecating, open minded, relaxed, kindhearted? Forgiving?
I guess it is. The Obama campaign issued a press release yesterday calling the famous cover art “tasteless and offensive.” Something disappointed me about that response. Probably because I could have written that press release myself, using similar releases from the McCain and Clinton campaigns as templates. Hell, just fill in the blanks. Outrageous, offensive, unfair, racist, prejudiced, unfunny – you know, the Roget’s gamut. We are not amused.
Yes, I can see that He is not amused. He is never amused. And He seems to enjoy it when His Royal Minions close ranks in his defense each time the most distant echo of the hoofs of innuendo echo across the plain. This is the dirty little secret about the New Yorker flap. Obama supporters love riding to his defense. It makes them feel like freedom fighters, like warriors against racism. Obama likes it too – it strokes his ego, makes him feel like he has lots of friends. The Obama community is excited when it thinks it is threatened. Its psychology is one of fear, every bit as much as the Republicans’ is. While the Republicans rally to the fear of national insecurity, the Obama people rally to the fear of prejudice, and hatred, and stereotype.
Which is fine in some ways. I would never pretend that fear is not a useful motivator from time to time. Some say the cartoon crossed a line. Maybe so, but isn’t there also a line between a realistic concern and a manufactured one? Manufactured fears were once called propaganda, but no one seems to know the meaning of the word anymore. We call it spin. There was never a danger that the New Yorker magazine was going to galvanize the far right. That very thought makes me laugh.
Some say the cartoon was not funny. So? I've sat with a group and laughed at many a joke I thought unfunny. It's sociable, kind, and altogether decent to do so. Most of the time the guy who frowns is the one spoiling the party.
What I am not laughing at is page one news. The Iranians are testing long-range missiles. Gas prices are rising daily and Bush’s solution is to give more oil fields to the energy companies. We are so afraid of Mexicans that we want to build another Berlin wall to keep them out. The banking industry crisis is edging from merely uncomfortable to downright frightening. If I were a presidential candidate right now, I would announce that I am suspending my campaign for a few weeks to go back to Washington and figure out what the hell is going on. The mortgage industry isn’t going to wait for Inauguration Day to blow, and the dollar won’t melt down against the euro according to anybody’s campaign schedule either.
Instead, here we sit, whining about a magazine cover. Maybe Phil Gram was right about that: We are a nation of whiners after all.
I’ll confess my prejudices. I am a longtime New Yorker subscriber. I think the New Yorker is one of the finest magazines published in English, and it is a shame to watch a mob of self-interested pundits try to take down a publication that has done more for national literacy than all of them put together, raised to the power of google. As for Obama, I was a supporter until he voted in favor of the FISA bill last week. The fact that Obama voted in favor of a bill giving the president sweeping warrantless eavesdropping authority gives special meaning to the American flag burning in the fireplace in the New Yorker cartoon. I won’t vote for Obama now, not for anything, though I don’t know what I am going to do in the voting booth come November. I may write in Stephen Colbert – at least he still makes me laugh – but I’ll be hanged if I vote for a “change” candidate who thinks change means changing the scope of the Forth Amendment.
There. I got it off my chest. So anyway I have this alternative world, one in which the Democratic nominee realizes our country is in some serious trouble, and that it is a waste of time and ego to get bent out of shape about a magazine cartoon that won’t change a single vote worth having anyway.
He could have laughed it off. Dismissed it as a joke, even a misguided one. And all those Minions, Surrogates, and assorted mix of Courtly Fools massed to defend him would have bowed their heads and walked stoop-shouldered and dejectedly away. You can’t channel Umbrage when His Highness is amused.
It would be so nice to see the Knights of Umbrage let a few insults slide. Just laugh them off. We are in for a few years of real problems, and we could use a leader with a sense of mirth. Like Franklin Roosevelt, who led America through some of the toughest times it has ever known, yet who, in every photo I have ever seen of him, has a knowing smirk on his face and looks like he is having a high time.
Come on guys, lighten up. Please. If you can’t do it out of a sense of magnanimity, do it out of a sense of duty to your country. If His Highness won’t laugh, nobody can.