REMEMBER “Short Attention-Span Theater”? I think we’re in it, and not on the audience side. I think we’re the stars. I don’t believe this is just me, or a third of us, or even half of us. I think it’s every American (not counting the fiercest partisans on the left and right, say, ten percent on both sides). What I’m getting at is . . .
Have you found yourself thinking about Iraq these days roughly as much as you think about Afghanistan, which is to say not that much, which is to say, frankly, not at all?
After so much passionate debating, thinking, and maneuvering for so many months, from the supermarkets to the offices to the talk shows, I think most Americans are either taking a breather from the big picture, or have just about had it. I have an image in my head of a stick-thin, all-black-clad writer at the Nation, and a chubby, Brooks Brothers-clad writer at National Review, both getting the latest, daily, thirty-page, small-print, CENTCOM report dropped on their desks, and both shoving it away, muttering, “Oh, Jeez,” and then both calling out to the hallway, “Hey, anything new on Laci Peterson?”
And it’s not just the pundits, it’s all of us, and it happened so quickly, didn’t it? One second we were arguing about whether or not the Turks were screwing us up in the North, and watching Baghdad Bob insist the sky was green. Next thing you know, we were all putting the kids to bed, strolling into the bedroom, picking up the remote . . . and not turning on Fox. (“Whatever you want, honey, just not one of those goofy decorating shows. Wait a minute, is this the one with the little Scottish blond? Okay.”)
On Friday I got into the car after work and couldn’t listen to any of the radio talk shows. I just couldn’t. I tried one, then another, then another, then the first one again, and finally just turned the thing off. They all felt so . . . shrill. Redundant. Reaching too hard. Even NPR was so boring I couldn’t get angry at it.
I don’t even have the strength to get mad about the president going to France. And I would like to, I really would. I would love to fantasize about him giving Chirac a big Bugs Bunny kiss on the nose and saying, “That was from the American girlfriend you said you had 40 years ago.” But I just feel so empty about it right now. Isn’t that weird?
The Middle East is another thing that’s hard to get steamed about suddenly, because it seems somehow they’re at least doing better, doesn’t it? I wasn’t a big fan of the roadmap, but, hey, if it’s okay with them . . . President Bush is going to Jordan, and the prime minister of Israel has already met with the prime minister of Suicidistan.
By the way, the only reason I made that joke was because each time I want to say something about the new Palestinian prime minister, I have to stop and think of the guy’s name, because he has two of them, and it’s confusing.
What’s the deal with that, anyway? I keep getting them mixed up, and I have to concentrate to remember which is which, and it’s annoying. Can’t we do without this? And why does every news report always have to say both? How long will this go on? I don’t know about you, but I don’t have that kind of time. I mean, Mahmoud Abbas, Abu Mazen, come on, let’s go, is it one or the other? Arafat did all right with just one for the last hundred years, why does this guy need two? Hell, I’ll give him the settlements right now if he just picks a name and sticks with it. Aha, you may say, but what about “Batman” and “Bruce Wayne,” those were two different names? Yes, but, in effect, they were also two different guys. Batman had the cave and the car, and Bruce threw all the benefits in the big mansion. (And lived with a young boy and a fastidious old man, but never mind that now.) Besides, my guess is that if Mahmoud/Abu has a secret, militaristic identity, its main purpose is not exactly saving lives.
Okay, maybe the prime minister is changing over to the second name, and he needs some time for the world to get used to it, like the whole Datsun/Nissan thing. Remember that? First it was Datsun, then Datsun by Nissan, then Nissan by Datsun, now it’s just Nissan. Fine, but let’s get it over and done with. I want to be able to say Bush, Powell, Sharon, and Somebody, and I need a name I can count on.
Of course, this curious period of detachment may be temporary for all of us, and things in the world can shift in a flash. Everything in the Middle East may fail spectacularly again, or another terrorist attack may occur, or we may again start seeing Hans Blix walking away from the camera in a tight suit. Two of these will instantly re-focus the nature of good and evil, and one of them will make us all go on The Zone. But how should we describe what is happening now? Doldrums? Disengagement? Regrouping? Mass self-involvement? I don’t think it’s apathy, but who knows? It’s here, though, and it sure happened fast.
Here’s a good way to sum it up. Two weeks ago, a reporter who strolled into any bar in America and said, “Yeah, I was embedded with the army,” could drink for free all night, and have any woman in the place, or at least a good shot at them.
Today, I’ll bet you the same guy would be lucky to get an extra bowl of peanuts.
Hell, never mind that. The poor sap would probably find himself drinking with Jayson Blair.
Larry Miller is a contributing humorist to The Daily Standard and a writer, actor, and comedian living in Los Angeles.
