FinermanWorks

My idea of casual conversation would include an allusion to Benjamin Disraeli. My acquaintance’s idea of a response was “Who?” I hoped that I maintained a stoic mien but my eyebrows might have been doing the semaphores of “How can you be so stupid?” The lady, a friend of a neighbor, is Gentile; so she would have been indifferent to the most interesting feature of Disraeli. I just provided her with a brief description of a “British prime minister of the 19th century and a man of extraordinary charm and wit.”

Now, I don’t want to seem like a pedantic bully—even if I really am—but I think that a middle-aged college graduate should have heard of Benjamin Disraeli. He is not obscure. It is not as if I had belabored the poor woman with such prime ministerial ciphers as Henry Campbell-Bannerman or James Callahan. (And if I had mentioned Andrew Bonar Law, she might have slapped me.)

I realized that Americans’ criterion for historical significance is whether or not it was made into a movie. But Disraeli has been, and he has been portrayed by George Arliss, John Gielgud, Alec Guinness and Ian McShane. Given Disraeli’s origins, Adam Sandler or Ben Stiller may feel entitled to play him! No, that woman should have heard of Disraeli.

In fact, I think that a number of British prime ministers merit at least a minimum of recognition.

Lord North (1770-1782), the idiot during the American Revolution.

William Pitt the Younger (1783-1801, 1804-1806) if only because Pittsburgh was named for his father.

Earl Grey (1830-1834) because he had such great taste in tea. Yes, really.

Benjamin Disraeli (1868, 1874-1880): He needs no introduction.

William Gladstone (1868-1874, 1880-1885, 1886, 1892-1894): Disraeli’s rival. If Disraeli was Groucho, Gladstone was Margaret Dumont.

David Lloyd George (1916-1922) in case you were wondering who was standing next to Woodrow Wilson at Versailles.

Neville Chamberlain (1937-1940) who is now remembered as an insult and an accusation.

Winston Churchill (1940-45, 1951-1955), the man George Bush claims to be—give or take the eloquence.

Margaret Thatcher (1979-1990): Disraeli’s politics with Gladstone’s charm.

Tony Blair (1997-2007) If only to prove that you were are completely oblivious.

Gordon Brown…well, maybe not.

Elder, the inspiration of Pittsburgh, was sympathetic to the American colonists

Although the United States does not have an official village idiot, this country will protest China’s human rights abuses by sending President Bush to the Beijing Olympics. A State Department spokesman explained, “We are going to let the President be himself.” Mr. Bush’s itinerary will include using Ming vases as bowling pins, betting reporters who can urinate the farthest standing on the Great Wall, and greeting the Chinese officials with “No tickee, no washee.”

President Bush may go unnoticed, however, because no one will see him through the Beijing smog. China had attempted to improve its catastrophic environment in time for the Olympics. To lower the city’s 140% carbon dioxide levels, the government encouraged the population to breathe less. Known hiccuppers were arrested. Beijing hoped at least to improve ecological appearances by adding blue dye to the air. The finance ministry, however, realized the potential for product placement of the carbon dioxide-saturated atmosphere. Chinese posters now advertise “The effervescent air of Beijing–It’s Like Breathing Coca Cola.”

Fearing the environmental hazards of Beijing, many of the Olympic teams have suggested moving to a safer locale–such as Bhopal, India. Acknowledging those concerns, the International Committee is making several adjustments to the games. Medals can be awarded posthumously. All athletes will be allowed to compete in hazmat suits. In this year’s decathlon, the goal is to complete any one of the ten events. And swim teams are encouraged to provide their own water.

Musing:
It is Jesse Helms’ first day in Hell. I hope that he was forced to watch Venus and Serena Williams compete at Wimbleton. Better yet, I hope that Helms’s head was transmuted into the tennis ball.

Reflection:
Yesterday, one television network honored our Independence Day by broadcasting a “Law and Order” marathon. Well, the series did premiere in 1776. The first season’s cast had David Garrick, Sarah Siddons, Colley Cibber and–of course–Steven Hill.

Trauma:
I just survived another encounter with corporate reality. Despite my refusal to run up any debts to enrich its usurious soul, my bank has extended my Visa card for another few years. However, in order to activate my new card, I first had to call “customer service.” The voice answering my call identified himself as “Hubert.” R…E…A…L…L…Y! He certainly didn’t sound like a Hubert; of course, he could have been named for someone his great-great-grandfather killed in the Sepoy Rebellion. Unlike him, I had some credibility in my identity and was able to prove that I was Eugene.

Yet, before my card could be activated, Hubert first had to tell me about all sorts of wonderful programs and benefits that the bank wanted me to have. Furthermore, none of these proffered gifts would cost me a cent….except for a minor details that were equally unintelligible in English and Hindi. But Hubert was going to sign me up unless I repeatedly said, “No.” Which I did, insistently–because he did not choose to believe me the first few times. Whether surprised or offended by my refusal, Hubert ventured, “May I ask why?”

Of course, I did not have to give him my reason–but when have I ever been reticent? I told him, “The bank is not a philanthropy. It is simply looking for any opportunity to charge me fees and interest. Well, I am not a philanthropy either, and I will not give away my money for bank services that I don’t want.”

I think that Hubert finally accepted my answer. But I will carefully check my next bank statement.

Thomas Jefferson was the copywriter of the Declaration of Independence. Yes, alas, our country’s founding document is a masterpiece of product placement. In fairness to Jefferson, the shameless huckerism was not his idea. Poor Tom was manipulated and bullied by the business manager of the Continental Congress.

The Congress had hired a young Scotsman, an economics major at Columbia, to get corporate discounts on quills–and maybe a few “comps” at Philiadelphia taverns. But the teenage “go-getter” took the initiative of selling advertising space on the Declaration. The income covered his salary as well as a consulting fee for John Hancock. Any money leftover would be sent to the Continental Army. So Jefferson was told that he had to insert the commercial plugs into his writing.

Some of Jefferson’s most stirring prose was actually ad copy. Consider his evocation of “Nature’s God.” That was not an expression of his deism but an endorsement of a then popular laxative. (The combination of tobacco and pork fat really is effective.) Unfortunately, many of the advertisers were infuriated by misprints in the Declaration. For example, there was the ad touting the inn of Aileen and Abel Wright. No one wants to stay at an “Un.” And you can imagine the indignation of the wig manufacturer The Hirsute of Happiness. The corrections were made on the second printing of the Declaration, but no one apparently read it.

Many of the delegates at the Continental Congress resented the blatant commercialism and their exploitation as celebrity endorsers. (Only Ben Franklin was allowed to market Ben Franklin!) The Declaration was almost voted down; by and large, the delegates preferred the tyranny of George III to that of Alexander Hamilton. The American Revolution was saved when Jefferson added a codicil to the Declaration; only then, the delegates eagerly pledged “our lives, our fortunes and our sacred honor.” Surprisingly, it took 28 years before a hitman collected on the contract.

The plan of Field Marshall Douglas Haig had an undeniable logic. A week-long bombardment–1,500,000 shells of heavy artillery–along a 20-mile front in northern France would obliterate any German defenses. Then, 150,000 British soldiers would simply occupy the valley, leaving the exposed remnants of the German lines prey to three divisions of cavalry. And tally-ho Berlin! The British soldiers were told to take along their full kits–70 pounds of equipment and supplies–because this operation was really more of a relocation than an attack. Battalions were even ordered to move in formation: eight lines of troops, five yards apart. It would be good practice for so many raw recruits. That splendid procession occurred on this day–July 1–1916.

However, the procession was not quite as splendid as expected. While the British artillery had rained 1,500,000 shells on the German defenses, some logistical misunderstanding resulted in the use of shrapnel instead of high explosives. That would have been fatal to any number of German sunbathers who chose to ignore the bombardment, but it had negligible effect on the trenchworks. Furthermore, the British underestimated the quality of German engineering. They assumed that the German trenchworks were just as shoddy as the British. (On the contrary, if you like the engineering of German cars, you would really love their trenches.) So, in fact, the German fortifications were still largely extant and bristling with the finest quality machine guns. The British bombardment had only succeeded in eliminating the element of surprise.

So began the first day on the Somme.

General Haig expected 150,000 men–in three waves–to advance up to three miles, overrunning two lines of German fortifications. However, only 100,000 men participated in the attack. In some sectors, the second and third waves could not move past the dead and wounded of the first wave. Some regiments had casualties of ninety percent; in effect, they ceased to exist. Despite the odds and obstacles, moving under fire with the weight of a full kit, British troops succeeded in taking some sectors of the Germans’ first line of trenches. Some British soldiers even reached the second line of trenches; the lucky ones were captured.

General Haig expected the attack to continue the next day. The division commanders told him that it was impossible; the generals did not even know how many men they had left. It took three days to get an accurate account of the losses. Of the 100,000 men who made the attack on July 1, 20,000 were dead and 40,000 wounded. This proved to be the worst day in the history of the British army. By contrast, the German losses seemed almost frivolous: 8,000 dead and wounded, 2,000 captured.

And this was just the first day on the Somme. The slaughter would continue through November. At the cost of 620,000 casualties the Allies would gain five miles, and they never achieved the breakthrough that would end the war. But if this was a Pyrrhic victory, the Germans still had little reason to celebrate. Their casualties amounted to 450,000.

Douglas Haig was not courtmartialed, demoted or transferred as military attache to Brazil. He remained the Field Marshall of the British forces, After the war, he was made an earl and received an award of 100,000 sterling. (He did not need the money; the Haig family had a very successful distillery.) History’s judgment, however, has been less generous: “the butcher of the Somme”.

Barack Hussein Obama must be a Moslem because of his middle name. Using that same irrefutable criterion, one must conclude that John Sidney McCain is Jewish. Just say the name Sidney and you conjure the images of a schlub accountant, a wisecracking deli man, or the retired garment worker in Florida. What do they have in common? Certainly not a foreskin.

Yes, I know that Sidney McCain does not look Jewish. But neither did Kirk Douglas until he turned 75. (So any minute now….) And the evidence is already there: Oy, is he a Sidney! Consider his campaign pledges. He denounces pork barrel legislation; so what has he got against pork? He also promises to cut government spending: the man just does not want to pay retail. As for his personal life, the stereotype holds true: his second wife is a younger, blonde shiksa. And what real Gentile would willingly hang around Joseph Lieberman? (Even we Jews are tempted to give the little nebbish a wedgie and steal his lunch money.)

Now that the world knows the truth, beware of a President Sidney. Would you want to see state dinners replaced by Sunday brunches? Do you want “The Star Spangled Banner” to be replaced by a Gershwin tune, even if it is easier to sing? (”Strike Up the Band” sounds patriotic but “I Got Plenty of Nuttin’ would be a more accurate state of the union.) Would you want an America run like a Hollywood studio? Well, that actually might be an improvement. If only we could be sure that Sidney McCain were as good as Louis B. Mayer.

The citystate of Venice was a republic by default. None of its ruling families was able to eliminate or terrorize its rivals. So the aristocrats agreed to share power but only among themselves. Their idea of a republic would be our idea of a country club. The club—the Grand Council–had 450 members; and the rest of Venice’s population amounted to 140,000 waiters and caddies. (But the club members were good tippers.)

However, even the Grand Council did not govern Venice. The club’s steering committee and executive board managed the day to day affairs of the mercantile empire. There was also the club president: the Doge. The Doge was elected for life, but the election process would have bewildered a Byzantine.

It was as much a lottery as an election. First, 30 members of the Grand Council were chosen by lot. from this group, 9 were chosen by lot. Those 9 members selected 40 members of the Grand Council; and from the 40, then 12 were chosen by lot. The 12 would select 25 members; and a lottery would pick 9 of them. They would elect 45 members, and then a lottery would choose 11 from them. The 11 would choose 41 members–who actually would elect the Doge. Oh, the Doge had to receive at least 25 out of 41 votes.

And you thought that our Electoral College was stupid. Yet, this convoluted system served Venice for five centuries, from 1268 to 1797.

Furthermore, this bewildering process did enrich our vocabulary. In the electoral lottery, each member received a wax ball which had to be broken open. If his wax ball contained a piece of parchment with the word “lector”, the lucky member proceeded to the next stage of the election. The word for these wax orbs was “ballotes.”

That does sound familiar.

Karl Rove described Barak Obama as an Ivy League, martini-sipping, country club elitist. Barak Obama denies that Barbara Bush is his mother.

Zimbabwe tyrant Robert Mugabe has announced that he is taking a leave of absence in order to run John McCain’s campaign. The new campaign manager criticized his candidate’s only theme: ‘Vote for McCain or the terrorists will kill you.’ According to Mugabe, the threat is too weak and vague. “Which terrorists? Somebody Muslim? I don’t want people to respond to our ads by public burnings of Omar Sharif’s bridge column. We have to focus the paranoia. No, our theme should be ‘Vote for McCain or WE will kill you.’ Voters will believe that. Homicidal hysteria is the one issue where Republicans still have any credibility.”

SCHOLARS SET DATE FOR ODYSSEUS’ BLOODY HOMECOMING

Using clues from star and sun positions mentioned by the ancient Greek poet Homer, scholars think they have determined the date when King Odysseus returned from the Trojan War and slaughtered a group of suitors who had been pressing his wife to marry one of them. It was on April 16, 1178 B.C. that the great warrior struck with arrows, swords and spears, killing those who sought to replace him, a pair of researchers say in Monday’s online edition of Proceedings of the National Academy of Science.

Now that the “Odyssey” can be taken as gospel, this divinely-inspired book should be taught in high school biology classes. We all know that puberty turns boys into pigs but “Odyssey” tells that it can be done literally. In fact, the Odyssey should be the core curriculum of all classes. Don’t worry–Odysseus is consistently heterosexual. The book’s advice for dealing with unwelcome house guests should be the basis of our immigration policy. (Perhaps Odysseus could have spared the lives of any of Penelope’s suitors who were willing to do yardwork.) The Odyssey can be also be the foundation for an improved criminal justice system; blinding certainly discouraged Polyphemus and is likely to have the same effect on drunks, cannibals and the annoyingly handicapped. Finally, Homer’s divine work offers us a winning strategy for Iraq: a giant wooden horse. If that ruse ended one war in Asia, why not another?

Topic I: The Depths of My Depravity

This weekend I attempted to corrupt an innocent mind by telling her that John Wesley had founded the Methodist School of Acting. I even offered her a famous example of Methodist acting:

“I couldah been a contendah–which would notah been possible if we was subject to predestinarian determinism. So my one-way ticket to palookaville was a mattah of Free Will.”

Topic II: What is Chinese for Aquitaine?

I recently discovered that China has a recycling policy. No, I am not referring to the use of human waste for fertilizer or packing material. (And keep in mind, the “compost’ on your Walmart purchases may not all be from China; Walmart rarely gives its employees washroom breaks.) My revelation occurred while watching the Chinese costume epic “Curse of the Golden Flower.”

Set in Medieval China (of course, that could be only 70 years ago), the film depicts a web of palace intrigues. The Empress and the Emperor are plotting against each other; their three sons are exploited as pawns but those young princes have machinations of their own. In the first 30 minutes, I saw one poisoning, one of those marvelously choreographed martial arts duels, and two seductions (one verging on incest). For all this hectic activity, something about the film seemed remarkably familiar. Suddenly, I recognized what it was: a Chinese version of “The Lion in Winter.”

As Mr. and Mrs. Tang, Henry II and Eleanor of Aquitaine have lost their sense of humor but gained a much better wardrobe. Tenth century China was richer and more sophisticated than twelfth century Europe. The Tangs’ casual opulence surpassed the best that the Plantagenets had to offer. But the Tang dynasty also seems more disfunctional than the Plantagenets. At the end of “The Lion in Winter”, Eleanor is going back to prison, the princes are in rebellion, but everyone is alive and in a comparatively good mood. As “The Curse of the Golden Flower” ends, the Emperor is still cheerful, but he has beaten to death one son, forced another to suicide, and driven the Empress mad. Spare the rod…

And I am looking forward to more Chinese recycling. I anticipate an epic about a headstrong if footbound heroine during the Taiping Rebellion: “Gong with the Yin”.

Notre Dame, NBC agree to 5-year deal through 2015

In what may be the hiring coup of the millennium, NBC will have the political insights, the theological gossip and the Jewish mothering of the Virgin Mary. The ancient lady will be NBC’s equivalent to Barbara Walters.

The introductory reception featured fish and loaves. “Jeshie used my recipe” exclaimed His Mother who insisted that everyone called Her Miriam. “Virgin sounds much too formal. After all, I’m not Oprah.”

People noted her excellent command of English. She was asked if she had picked up the language from watching reruns of Fulton J. Sheen. “No, dahling. I was personally taught by Mr. Shakespeare. But first I made him apologize for that nasty ‘Merchant of Venice.’”

Addressing rumors, NBC denied that Miriam would be the new host of “Meet the Press.” “It just wouldn’t work,” explained a spokesman. “No one would want to lie to Her, so no one would come on the show.”

The stock market rallied on the news of the deal. Analysts noted that the Second Coming now definitely would not occur before 2015. “Jesus isn’t going to throw his mother out of work.”