Beating Around the Bush (9 page)

THE WHITE HOUSE was getting nervous. It had told the American people that it was invading Iraq to destroy its weapons of mass destruction.

The Americans didn’t find any, so they called in “Spike” Valley, the CIA’s expert on mass destruction, to give the president and his staff an up-to-date briefing.

Everyone gathered in the war room. Valley set up his map and began.

“Gentlemen, this is a map of the world. This is the Middle East. Iraq is here, Afghanistan is here, this is China, and next to it is North Korea. The countries that have nuclear weapons and chemical weapons are in yellow on the map, except for Iraq, which appears in blazing red. The countries that support us are in pink, and the ones in green have refused to back us in Operation Iraqi Freedom. Now I’ll give you a moment to let that sink in.”

The defense secretary, who shall remain nameless for security reasons, said, “Will you get on with the briefing? Does Iraq have weapons of mass destruction so we can have something to show for our bombing of the major towns and blowing up scores of Iraqi citizens?”

Spike replied, “They did have weapons of mass destruction, but they don’t have them anymore.”

The vice president of the United States, who could not be identified because nobody knows where he is, said, “Where are they?”

“They were smuggled out of Iraq weeks ago and hidden in Syria.”

The president said, “Why didn’t we think of that?”

The defense secretary said, “We can still bomb the hell out of Damascus. We have tons of weapons left over from Iraq. And it’s cheaper to bomb Syria than to bring all the equipment home.”

Spike said, “Hold off. We can’t be trigger-happy. The weapons of mass destruction were smuggled into Syria and then sent to Lebanon by express mail.”

The secretary of state said, “I don’t think we should destroy Lebanon, because it will cost us a fortune to rebuild it.”

Spike said “It could be a waste of time. Our man in Casablanca said a piano player at Rick’s told him that the weapons were still on the dock.”

The president was getting agitated and said, “So what can I tell the American people?”

“Mr. President, the weapons are now on a boat going to France.”

The president said, “It figures. Now we know who the smoking gun is. If the UN refuses to do what we want, knock out Paris unilaterally.”

A FUNNY THING HAPPENED the other day. Actually, it was not that funny. The
International Herald Tribune
in Paris canceled my column after fifty-three years.

I am permitted to write one column every fifty years about my personal problems.

The decision to drop me was made when the
New York Times,
in an unfriendly takeover, purchased the
Washington Post
’s interest in the
International Herald Tribune
.

I started on the paper in 1949 as a nightclub columnist and restaurant and movie critic. One day, soon after I got the job, the managing editor asked, “Where did you get the credentials to be a food critic?”

I said, “I was a food taster in the Marine Corps.”

I also had a great deal of trouble with the French language. This presented a problem when I had to review French films. I solved it by never giving a French movie a bad notice, so a French producer could never complain.

In 1952, while writing about food, wine and song, I started a column titled “Europe’s Lighter Side,” which was syndicated in the United States. I wrote with tongue in cheek about Aly Khan, de Gaulle, Khrushchev, Lucky Luciano and Princess Grace’s wedding.

It was the golden age for American tourists in Europe and most of us had a very good time. The
International Herald Tribune
was a lifeline to Americans in 19 countries because we printed it in English.

The column that got the most attention (and is still reprinted every year) was “Explaining Thanksgiving to the French.”

I once drove to Moscow in a chauffeured Chrysler limousine. I went to Hong Kong, where I danced with Suzy Wong, and I dined with Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton in Rome.

I know this sounds like name-dropping, but that is what I was paid to do.

I always got along with the French. I once asked a French friend, “Why do the French dislike Americans?”

He said, “The French don’t like each other, so why should they like you?”

It isn’t the names but Paris that has stayed with me. The boulevards, the sidewalk cafes, the croissants and coffee, the Seine in the morning and the Seine at night, the Champs Elysees, Montmartre and the Louvre—all will remain as important parts of my days on the
Trib
.

THE EXECUTIVES of the Americo-Shaft Airlines Co. were having a celebration at the Four Seasons Hotel. They were honoring Tommy Cloud, who had just negotiated contracts with the pilots, the flight attendants and the mechanics. Tommy saved the airline $1 billion by making all the unions take drastic cuts in salaries.

When Tommy walked into the room, everyone cheered.

Arnie Blackhawk, chairman of Americo-Shaft, said, “Tommy, you are a negotiating genius. No one has been able to stick it to the unions the way you did.”

Tommy replied, “That is what negotiating fair contracts is all about. You tell them that if they won’t give in, the airline will go bankrupt.”

“What else did you do?” Arnie asked.

Tommy answered, “I cried a lot. The unions had never seen a grown man cry.”

“You didn’t mention anything to them about our trust funds, bonus plans or golden parachutes, which guarantee each of our executives $5 million?”

Tommy said, “It is none of their business what we on the 40th floor do.”

The vice president in charge of operations said, “All the people who took the cuts do nothing but fly the planes. What do they know about money?”

Arnie said, “Our negotiations with unions will be a textbook case for every business school in America to study. They’ll teach future CEOs how to screw the unions when they grow up.”

Eddie Tailspin said, “How do we keep the workers from finding out we were looking after our own interest before theirs? They may not take it quietly.”

The vice president for advertising said, “We’ll have a campaign on television and in the newspapers. We show a pilot, a stewardess and a mechanic. They will each say, ‘Welcome to Americo-Shaft Airlines. Fly with us at half the salaries we had before.’”

An executive said, “How about, ‘Take a flight with us before we go belly up’?”

The advertising VP said, “That sounds too downbeat. I think we should have a message that will make people feel good about Shaft—maybe a chorus of employees singing, ‘Fly Me to the Moon.’”

Another executive said, “I hope the advertising campaign won’t come out of our bonuses and pension plans.”

Arnie said, “It won’t show up because we will keep them hidden on the books in the Cayman Islands and list it as ‘goodwill.’”

“My wife wants to buy a home in Fort Lauderdale,” the VP in charge of frequent flier miles said. “Can she do it now?”

“Of course. That is what our bonus plan is for,” said Arnie. “But I would sell your stock before the word gets out about our executive compensation plans.”

The executives picked up their cell phones and called their brokers and then their friends and relatives.

Arnie spoke again. “I am happy to announce that we owe a lot to Tommy, and I am making him Employee of the Year. He has done more for aviation than Charles Lindbergh.”

They all raised their glasses of Dom Perignon and sang, “For he’s a jolly good fellow.”

Tommy blushed and said, “All it took was the same greed that everyone in this room has.”

THE CONSTITUTION guarantees everyone the right to freedom of speech and the government a right to keep everything you say in a database.

For example, the federal marshals at the airports have a list of protesters. It is called the “No Fly” list and has been very helpful in finding people who are against the war in Iraq. (I did not make this up.)

Obviously, the list is quite useful in tracking down opponents of President Bush.

George Mayberry, a federal marshal at Reagan National Airport said, as he made me take off my shoes, “The No Fly list is the only way we can tell who the protesters are.”

“I’m not a protester,” I said, as he searched my shoes with a wand. “I think President Bush is the greatest president we’ve ever had.”

“Your name is on the list.”

“That’s another Buchwald,” I protested. “He is a known agitator and they always mix up our names.”

Mayberry said, “Stick out your arms. Have you ever used free speech to advocate overthrowing the government?”

“Never,” I said. “Not even when I went to dinner in Georgetown.”

“If you were a card-carrying protester, could you give us the names of other protesters?”

I said, “I don’t know anybody. Ask Don Rumsfeld and Colin Powell or Richard Perle. They make me proud to be an American.”

Mayberry asked, “What have you got in your pocket?”

“A photo of Vice President Cheney. I always carry it next to my heart. Can I go now so I won’t miss my plane?”

“We’re not finished with you yet. Stand over there with the other No Fly suspects.”

I went over to the area assigned to the outspoken protesters.

Martin Sheen said, “I think Bush and his war plans are a disgrace.”

Susan Sarandon said, “I have a right to say anything I want to, even if my mother doesn’t agree with me.”

Tim Robbins said, “I have to get back to a peace rally in San Francisco.”

A man who looked like an FBI agent was videotaping all of us.

The Dixie Chicks sang, “Ain’t going to go to war no more.”

I felt terrible to be put in the same class with peacenik movie stars and singers.

“What about you?” Mike Farrell asked. “What are you in for?”

I replied, “I can go either way. I don’t think we should bomb innocent people, but if that is what it takes to conquer another country, I say do it.”

I could see looks of disappointment in the No Fly faces, so I tried to say something positive. “Of course I am for freedom of speech. On the other hand, we must have time to find weapons of mass destruction before we start charging the White House with not doing the right thing.”

My remarks didn’t fly. Sheen said, “Why won’t they let us get on the plane?”

I said, “Because even if you are in show business you could still be a terrorist.”

Sarandon cried, “I am an actress, not a terrorist.”

I said, “These are difficult times. Americans have to put up with a lot. Removing your shoes and missing your plane is a small price to pay to guarantee every citizen his freedom of speech.”

WITH THE WAR OVER, the Bush administration is hard at work preparing for the battle of 2004.

The four-star general in charge is Karl Rove, an expert in
presidential election warfare. One of his aides, who works in the basement of the White House, said, “We must defeat the Axis of Democrats and Ralph Nader no matter how much it costs. We also have to win Florida.”

As an embedded political correspondent, I asked, “Do you have a plan?”

The aide replied, “We are going after the minds and hearts and votes of the American people.”

“That’s going to cost money,” I said.

“We’ll get the money. After all, we are fighting for the homeland security of the Republican Party.”

“Isn’t it a bit early to fight for the hearts and minds of the voters?”

The aide said, “General Rove doesn’t think so. The Democrats are in disarray. They don’t know who their leader will be. The general wants to make sure their morale is low.”

“Good thinking,” I responded. “What else are you planning?”

“We plan on dropping pamphlets from private company jets in the urban areas, warning the residents that if they desert the Republican Party they will have to live with budget deficits, wasteful spending and Ted Kennedy.”

“That’s fearsome.”

“And if the unions don’t surrender, we will turn them over to the IRS, which has no mercy.”

I asked, “Will Rove observe the Geneva Convention Articles of War?”

“It depends. If he is going to lose Alabama and Mississippi, the articles go out the window. Political warfare is not a pretty business.”

“What about the economy?”

“We are still blaming Clinton. In a speech to the country, we will have Bush say he is fighting against Wall Street money men who
have caused the market to collapse. If elected, he will promise a chicken in every pot and a tax cut in every tax shelter.”

“Suppose the Democrats counterattack?”

“As of now, President Bush holds the high ground. We are taking out ads in all the newspapers that if you vote against Bush you are voting against your commander in chief.”

“What about calling the person a traitor?”

“We’re saving that for the TV commercials.”

DURING WORLD WAR II, the Greatest Generation ate a type of canned meat called Spam. Our troops were made to eat so much of it the GIs vowed that when the war was over they would never eat another can of Spam again. And as far as I know, they didn’t.

Most veterans forgot about Spam until sometime in the early ’90s, when a hacker named Eddie Nerd was fooling around with his computer and discovered he could send e-mails to people whether he knew them or not. He needed a sexy name, so he called it Spam.

Soon after that, the direct-mail advertising people hired Eddie to come up with a method to send out thousands of junk e-mail messages.

What made it beautiful is that the receiver of the Spam had no way of stopping it.