In the Weekly Standard P. J. O'Rourke eviscerates a sacred cow of the liberal intelligentsia, the late Arthur M. Schlesinger, Jr., in the form of a review of his memoirs, recently published. The opening sentence of O'Rourke's review is one most book reviewers (as your Bloviator once was) can only dream of writing: "This is a bad, vain, dull, repulsive book. Don't read it. I didn't." Fortunately, O'Rourke managed to slog through of enough of Schlesinger's name-dropping natterings to amply demonstrate what a truly empty suit he was.
O'Rourke quotes a particularly revealing passage regarding Schlesinger and the speech writing duties for his darling of darlings, John F. Kennedy.
The next morning the president called to ask about the paragraph. I brought it to his bedroom about 9:30. He was eating his breakfast in bed. He had only his pajama pants on.
It doesn't seem likely (to say the least) Schlesinger is engaging in homo-eroticism so the point of this mildly sordid detail must be the thrill at being privileged enough to have had a private audience with a dishabille Sir John of Camelot as he tucked into his corn flakes. Schlesinger doesn't consider the possibility Kennedy's attitude towards him was probably on a par with Lyndon Johnson's toward junior staffers, reporters and other lower forms of life as he received them while seated on the toilet. So pleased he is with himself, Schlesinger never wonders whether the sainted Jack would have conferred with the likes of McGeorge Bundy or Dean Acheson while in bed half naked rather than in a more suitable venue, appropriately dressed. President Kennedy, by baring his burly hairy chest to Schlesinger while lounging in his boudoir, could only have been expressing his contempt for this toadie amanuensis to the quality, in a manner even a gifted orator like himself could not do in words.
No comments:
Post a Comment