Don't Leave, George W.!

Screw the public. We need you to bail out the press by staying in office.

A suggestion box. Boring. In any case, the early returns indicate that Obama is not a conservative Democrat, like the Clintons, but he may not be a lefty, either. So far, he seems to be just to the center of center.


As for the incoming vice president, Joe Biden has no chance of filling the vacuum, the black hole, that is Dick Cheney. Biden is so unexciting that he's likely to be remembered mainly for his charter membership in the Hair Club for Senators.

Don't leave!
Don't leave!

Reporters will have a whole lot less fun traipsing off to Delaware with Biden than bird-dogging Cheney while he hunted for his next victims.

Will Biden tour the country, as Cheney did only a few short years ago, trying to hoodwink Americans into letting Wall Street handle their Social Security accounts? I don't think so.

That's fortunate for the public, but style is more important to reporters than substance. Biden's weird little smile can't compare with Cheney's lip-curling sneer.

Biden as the imperial vice president, the Rasputin, the man behind the throne, the puppet master, the bender of the Constitution to his will?

No, that dog won't hunt—with or without the Chief Justice of the United States. Here's $100 that says Biden will never shoot a hunting partner. And another $100 that says Biden will never mutter, "Fuck yourself," as he brushes past a senior senator from the other party.

On the sanctimonious end of the scale, there were Bush's Jesus freaks. You may have already forgotten that his first attorney general, John Ashcroft, ordered a modesty shroud for a naked-lady statue in the Justice Department. But in the 9/11 aftermath, he rounded up thousands of Muslims on American streets who were wearing their own modesty shrouds.

Forget that nonsense. No more hillbilly evangelists or Pat Robertson law-school grads making important decisions at Justice. Just take my word for that.

Deep in its bowels, the Obama White House may move with much the same rhythm as the Bush White House. But no matter how much of a shark-like enforcer Rahm Emanuel is sure to be, it's hard to imagine that Obama will give him a nickname like the one that Bush lovingly gave Karl Rove: "Turd Blossom."

Or that Emanuel will have to continually hiss in Obama's ear, as Rove did with Bush, "Stick to principle! Stick to principle!"

One of Bush's Farewell Tour '08 speeches last month did hold out a glimmer of hope that there would continue to be 24/7 excitement for political reporters. He told his American Enterprise Institute friends at a Mayflower Hotel banquet in D.C., "Under ordinary circumstances, failed entities—failing entities should be allowed to fail. I have concluded these are not ordinary circumstances for a lot of reasons."

Bush was referring to Detroit's automakers, but he could have been hinting that he himself was one of those failed entities who should be saved—at least for four more years. Of failing. One bad term deserved another. Why not another after that?

Yet it seems clear that Bush is going to back up the Mayflower to the White House.

Mike Bloomberg abolished term limits so he could run for mayor again and continue walking the beat on Wall Street, making his business pals keep their market stalls clean and orderly. The mayor took his failure to do so in his own hands and decided he wanted to keep failing.

Franklin Delano Roosevelt's situation was different, but he did flout tradition by grabbing an unprecedented third term after pulling the country out of a depression. Why can't Bush have a third term, even though he's driving us into one?

And he's jumping out just as we're going over the cliff? It's not fair.

Not that life should be fair. We know the public's not going to be rescued. But if Cheney doesn't mount a coup to keep Bush in office, who's going to bail out America's journalists?

After eight years of a president who couldn't keep his dick in his pants, followed by eight years of a president who couldn't keep his foot out of his mouth, reporters are spoiled.

Now, after 200 years of toiling for highly profitable, ad-rich media outlets, the working press, gravy stains on its cheap ties, is rapidly being displaced by bloggers in bathrobes.

Tough luck for journalists still intent on getting paid for their work. At least Bush's presence has provided enough of a distraction to take their minds off the industry's collapse.

Now, journalists face at least one unavoidable change: Obama will screw up some things, but he doesn't seem like a screw-up who can't control himself. He seems like . . . an adult.

And adults are so boring.

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