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For those of you who don’t have a 36 year-old inventory of National Review issues, here is the first part of the satire that Mr. Buckley praised for its “blissful humor.”

I. London: 1913

It was not the best time to crave Chinese food. The restaurant was so crowded that two strangers found themselves forced to share a table. Passing the soy sauce made an introduction inevitable.

“I’m Sigmund Freud.”

“I’m Leon Trotsky.”

Of the the two, Freud was the more awed; he thought the Russian had said Tolstoy. Trotsky was not particularly impressed by the “bourgeois mesmerist” but he tried not to be rude. There was always the chance the doctor would pick up both checks.

“Had any interesting dreams lately?” It was the only way Freud could start a conversation.

Out of courtesy, Trotsky tried feigning an Oedipal complex. Freud was not deceived.

“Young man, I invented that complex and I can tell a psychochondriac from the real thing. Now, what do you really dream?”

“Of a proletarian revolution. It would be your standard Communist affair: dissolution of class distinction, abolition of all personal property, and lots of getting even.”

“You’re a manic-suppressive,” Freud concluded. “You use totalitarianism to overcome your shyness. Back home, I know a young art student with a similar tendency. If you’re ever in Vienna, I’ll try to get you into group therapy with Adolf.”

II. Zurich: 1917

Everyone has a hobby. Lenin’s was collecting the stamps from his rejection letters. The collection had become quite extensive. No country or corporation seemed willing to take Lenin up on his offer:

Dear Comrades,

If you provide me with the money for a revolution, I will rename Petrograd in your honor….

One afternoon, however, Lenin’s cutting, pasting and self-pitying were interrupted by a knock on the door. Awaiting him was a dark, little man who asked, “Do you have any bugs?”

“No, comrade.”

“Then, I’ll have a glass of water, instead. Don’t mind my coming in uninvited; it’s never stopped a German before. I have a message for you. Kaiser Wilhelm thinks that your idea is wonderful. Everyone else thinks that you’re crazy. That’s why they sent me: I’m Franz Kafka.
I’m here to invite you and forty of your closest conspirators to an all-expenses-paid Russian Revolution. Of course, we’d be delighted if you sent us a few postcards but we’d also like the Ukraine, the Baltic states, and all mineral rights in Siberia.”

Lenin did not want to seem petty. After all, what was a million squares to Russia? As a Communist, Lenin had no objection to giving away something that he did not own, but as a lawyer he felt an obligation to haggle. “Comrade Kafka, that seems a little steep.”

“Not compared to what the Japanese would want. Besides, we have no intention of keeping anything. Let me explain. I’m the Kaiser’s accountant and I’m doing his tax return. Now, I’ve already deducted the world war as a loss, but that still leaves him in too high a bracket. If we had all this Russian property, we could return it to you and deduct it as a charitable contribution. We get the write-off, and Russia keeps its land and wealth for whatever ulterior purpose you have in mind.”

“That’s very generous.”

“Call us sentimental, but we feel that someone has to threaten Western civilization, and, if it can’t be Germany, it might as well be you. Have you given much thought to your dictatorship of the proletariat?”

“Not really.”

“Good,” Kafka gloated, “because I have. You ought to create a vast dehumanizing society, where everyone is a prisoner, where you’re put on trial without ever knowing what the crime is.”

“It sounds ideal for Russia’s climate.”

“Here’s a manuscript of my fantasies. I was thinking of it as a novel, but I realize, Herr Lenin, that you could put it to better use as a constitution.”

Now we will never see William F. Buckley on “Celebrity Jeopardy”. We may never again hear so droll and engaging a conservative. William Kristol thinks that he is clever, but Buckley really was.

As we know from the movies, the best villains can be quite charming. I can personally attest to Mr. Buckley’s graciousness. Long ago, I actually had conservative tendencies, at least the perspective of a Cold-Warrior. After seeing “Reds”, Warren Beatty’s romantic escapade that should have been titled “Where the Bolshies Are“, I was inspired to write a satire. I submitted my parody to the National Review; it did seem the appropriate venue for “Reds”-baiting. Six weeks later, I received a letter from the magazine expressing the publisher’s delight with my “blissful humor” and pleasure in publishing my work. That was in 1981, and it was my first publication in a national periodical.

In the intervening decades, although I have had some success as a writer, no one else has ever described my humor as “blissful”; but no one else was William F. Buckley.

Of course, I still have his letter. If that is not a keepsake, what is?

He will be missed.

Fidel Castro would be a hard act to follow, but there were more exciting alternatives than Baby Brother Raoul. Many of us would have liked the Mafia back. Havana certainly could use another Meyer Lansky. The Sunday brunches at the Nacionale Hotel just have not been the same without him. For the last forty-seven years, the specialty of the Hotel’s Commissar Commissary has been green peppers stuffed with beets, served cold.

Of course, the transition from Communism to Coppola might be too abrupt, so Cuba would require an intermediate dictator. Imagine someone with a Stalinoid personality and the morals of a MBA: a psychopathic swindler. Fortunately, Dick Cheney is available. He certainly is wondering what he could do after January, which is probably why he is planning a coup in November. But if that should fail, he might enjoy ruling Cuba. It could be his retirement tyranny. Everything that he has done to the United States, he could repeat there with the added charm of the tropics. Rum-boarding sounds fun!

Once again, Cuba could be a tourist paradise, especially for any indicted members of the Bush adminstration avoiding extradition.

Within the next week or two, Faux News will broadcast a story suggesting that Senator Obama has raised money for his campaign by robbing liquor stores. A video recording will show a suspect who vaguely resembles the Democrat. As Brit Hume will conclude, “If it is not Barack Obama, it most certainly is a relative and political contributor.”

In the meantime, Senator Obama finds himself facing these three accusations.

First, he is a Muslim and we now have the photo to prove it. By now, you likely have that photo of the Senator dressed in a Somali costume when visiting that country. The garb allegedly reveals his true theological loyalties. In fact, I think that it makes him look like Butterfly McQueen. (Clarence Thomas will be so jealous.) That should lull the Right Wing’s fears of Black Men; although he would be even more acceptable if he dressed like Hattie McDaniel.

And, to allay those rumors of him being Muslim, he should start wearing a three-foot crucifix.

Second, he has proved himself unpatriotic by not singing with the national anthem. Of course, no one can sing our national anthem. The Chord Strangled Banner is a voice-straining series of contortions. We really should have an anthem within the human vocal range. After the last seven years, I’d recommend “Anything Goes.” However, if we demand that Obama attempt all forty-eight octaves of the song, he may have to undergo a surgical procedure that was a prerequisite for the Byzantine civil service. The Presidency may be worth the pain of sounding like Chris Matthews.

Third, Obama is unpatriotic because he does not wear an American flag on his lapel. At the risk of needing bigger lapels, Mr. Obama should wear the flags of all fifty states, the decals of major league baseball teams, and the Pillsbury Bake-Off’s winning recipe for apple pie. He should also have a tattoo of Mount Rushmore, with Ronald Reagan’s head included. Of course, all this paraphernalia could lead to a hernia and may be unnecessary. One single image can fully express the Conservative’s loyalty to this country. So Barak Obama should wear on his lapel the Confederate flag.

Pope Pius V was not exactly your Barry Fitzgerald type of priest. Instead, just imagine if Josef Stalin had decided to stay in the seminary. Born in Italy, but with a Spanish personality, the young Antonio Ghislieri joined the Dominician Order where he found kindred psychopaths. He volunteered for the Inquisition and displayed a zealous piety. The Inquisitor was especially suspicious of the well-educated, believing that literacy and heresy were synonymous. To his frustration, however, the Italian Inquisition was more inclined to burn books rather than people. (In Spain, you could do both!)

Yet, his personal austerity earned him the support of the “reformist” faction within the Church; these were the cardinals who felt that Popes should have religious wars instead of mistresses. In 1566, on the death of Pius IV (your typical nepotic rascal), the reformers elected their favorite inquisitor as the next pope. Although 62 at the time, bigotry kept him young. As Pius V, of course, he persecuted Jews but that was a mere formality. His real interest was in exterminating Protestants and he had an eventful six year reign. He officially gave Spain permission to wipe out the Dutch. (Without the Pope’s permission, the Dutch did defend themselves.) The Pope encouraged France’s Catholics to kill the Huguenots; he died a few months too soon to enjoy the St. Bartholomew’s Massacre but he must have been there in spirit. On this day in 1570, he declared Queen Elizabeth a heretic and ordered her overthrow and death; however, the Catholics were a minority and those who tried to comply with the Papal directive generally found themselves disemboweled by the Queen’s Secret Service.

Ironically, the Pope did not like the idea of hurting animals and forbid bullfighting. This was one Papal directive that Spain ignored.

In 1712, Pius V was declared a saint. PETA might agree even if Protestants and Jews don’t.

Monarchies do tend toward nepotism. Today, on the birthday of Charles V, I would hate to suggest that he did not deserve to be King of Spain and Southern Italy, Grand Duke of Burgundy, Duke of Austria and Holy Roman Emperor. In fairness, he certainly did a better job than George Bush would have. Nevertheless, Charles’ resume consisted of a birth certificate. He certainly had the right parents at the right time.

His story begins in late 15th century Spain with the marriage of young Phil Hapsburg to Joan, the oldest daughter and heiress of Ferdinand and Isabella. The New York Times and People would have loved covering the events, but their reporters would have been burned as part of the festivities. (All the best Spanish weddings included an auto da fe.)

Phil was quite a catch. Besides being good looking, his family’s business included Austria and the Holy Roman Empire. Furthermore, his late mother had left him all Belgium and the Netherlands. His mother-in-law died in 1504; expelling most of the doctors from Spain proved unhealthy. Joan was supposed to inherit Mom’s kingdom of Castile, but Ferdinand hated to part with it.

The young Hapsburg may have cheated on his wife but he was loyal to Joan’s fortune; he protested against his father-in-law’s usurpation of Castile and even made vague threats. Then Philip suddenly died. (You can only imagine how surprised Ferdinand was.) Joan went mad and refused to have her husband buried; she transported his casket wherever she went.

Of course, Ferdinand was willing to rule Castile in his demented daughter’s name as well as regent for his young grandson Charles, who was being raised–safely–in the Low Countries. Ferdinand died in 1516 of undeservedly natural causes, so the 16-year-old Charles inherited Aragon and Sicily and finally got to rule Castille.

In 1519, his paternal grandfather died–leaving Charles the family estate of Austria and the job opening of Holy Roman Emperor. So a teenager now ruled all of Spain and its burgeoning colonial empire, Southern Italy and Sicily, the Low Countries and Austria. He was the most powerful man in Christendom since Charlemagne; so naturally the Pope had to pick a fight with him.

Leo X could ignore Luther and a Turkish army advancing into central Europe, but he was determined to annoy the young Hapsburg. He tried to prevent Charles’ election as Holy Roman Empire, a position that had long been regarded as a Hapsburg prerogative. Then, Leo refused to coronate Charles. (He was the fifth emperor Charles.) The Pope evidently thought that a 19 year-old was unworthy of such power and responsibility. Of course, Leo had been appointed a cardinal when he was 13, and the deMedici family had been bought their kid the papacy; but the young deMedici begrudged the even younger Hapsburg.

Not feeling terribly loyal to the Papacy, Charles proved initially quite tolerant of the fulminations of Professor Luther. After all, the Church definitely needed reform; and wasn’t that Luther’s sole aim? Yes, Charles was wrong; but by 1521, the heresy had proved so popular in Northern Germany that only a civil war could crush it. Charles needed the support of the German princes of the North; he intended to conquer Italy if only to make his point to the Pope.

Leo died without having the pleasure of meeting Charles. However, Pope Clement VII (and Leo’s cousin) was persuaded by the German sack of Rome in 1527 to coronate Charles. Being a Hapsburg hostage made Clement very considerate of Charles’ feelings. When Henry VIII wanted an annulment from Catherine of Aragon, the Pope naturally asked Charles if he wished his aunt Catalina declared a whore! Charles proved reluctant, so the Pope refused Henry’s request.

Henceforth, the Popes would proved deferential to Charles V. If brute force was not sufficiently persuasive, Charles was also contributing a tithe of the Aztec and Inca generosity to the Church. Although personally pious–especially as he got older, Charles was not a religious bigot. Yes, Spain burned anyone who showed a suspicious reluctance to pork but through the rest of his realm he proved ecumenical. He reached a political detente with the Lutherans of Germany; after the Turks had conquered Hungary and had cavalry patrols around Vienna, the Emperor really couldn’t afford to quibble over transubstantiation versus consubstantiation. And since the Dutch wanted to make money rather than trouble, Charles could turn a blind eye to Calvinism.

Charles abdicated all his thrones in 1557 and retired to a monastery where he died the following year. His younger brother Ferdinand inherited Austria and the imperial title. Charles’ son Philip received Spain and the Low Countries but none of his father’s prudence.

So, aside from bad taste in children, Charles V really did a pretty good job. Happy 508th birthday.

BURMA TAKES SHOTS AT JOHN RAMBO

A Burmese magazine issued a harsh critique of Sylvester Stallone’s performance in the latest installment of the Rambo franchise.

The Voice, a privately owned magazine subject to censorship, says the American actor, whose character saves Christian missionaries being held in the jungles of the country also known as Myanmar, “looks funny fighting a war even though he’s so fat with sagging breasts.”

Burma is jinked. First, it is a convenient villain, one of the few countries that is politically correct and economically safe to attack. Many equally repulsive regimes have the redeeming feature of a surplus of oil. Other monstrous countries can claim a historical excuse for their butchery. For instance, any atrocities in Africa can be rationalized as a reaction to European colonialism; the massacre of 800,000 Tutsi has something to do with Belgian chocolate. But Burma has neither oil nor a plausible grievance against British imperialism. (The Burmese were treated much better than the Irish.)

Even worse for Burma, Hollywood just doesn’t have any more young leading men. The Age of Swashbucklers is over. Johnny Depp, Leonardo DiCaprio and Orlando Bloom don’t look like they could lift a sword; they need computer graphics just to fabricate that exertion. To be intimidating, Matt Damon really should be as tall as the Burmese. Will Ferrell looks more a conventional leading man, so we might as well surrender now.

But perhaps one of our middle-aged actors could terrorize the Burmese. George Clooney certainly has the build and looks of the traditional Hollywood hero, but you know that he would rather be a one-man death squad against Halliburton’s Board of Directors. (And yes, I’d buy a ticket to see that movie.) Tom Hanks never was particularly physical; he is more the type to coax and tutor the Burmese junta into behaving itself. There is Brad Pitts, but we all know that Angelina is the tougher of the two.

For some sociological reason or demographic fluke, all of our homicidal stars happen to be grandfathers. Bruce Willis, Harrison Ford or Sly Stallone may not really look good in loinclothes, but how else can they reassure us that they aren’t wearing Depends? And I find it gratifying that my fellow geezers could still wipe out the Burmese army. So what if Rambo now needs his ammo belts for a brassiere.

McCain Says Report on Lobbyist Not True
Associated Press

Feb 21st, 2008 | TOLEDO, Ohio — John McCain emphatically denied a romantic relationship with a female telecommunications lobbyist on Thursday and said a report by The New York Times suggesting favoritism for her clients is “not true.”

In fact, the Republican Party is delighted to have a heterosexual scandal for a change. The Wall Street Journal was about to promote the story, with Peggy Noonan claiming to be John McCain’s love slave.

But who would have imagined that the New York Times would have been so obliging to print the story? The Times tends to regard heterosexuality as just a vulgar exertion popular only among state university graduates. Ivy Leaguers evidently rationalize it as a contribution to the alumni fund. (Oh, you think that I am exaggerating. The Times just printed a story on the harm that children can do to your decor.)

However, I wonder if John McCain is mistaken to deny the rumors–even if he is innocent. Consider the advantages for him of being a lecherous old goat.

1. This will appeal to the Bible-thumpers. McCain merely has to announce that he is following the example of the Old Testament Kings, and that this young woman is his concubine. In his dotage, King David had a young “lobbyist” named Abishag; for McCain to do less might even be sacrilege.

2. The story certainly makes McCain seem more youthful and vigorous. He’ll be guaranteed the vote of the Viagra generation.

3. This is the perfect contrast to the appeal of Barak Obama. If Barak is presented as the new John Kennedy, McCain can be the new Joseph Kennedy. (Karl Rove already insinuated in 2000 that McCain had a black child; so why couldn’t it be Barak, the result of McCain’s liaison with–say–Pam Grier?) Why wouldn’t we want Joseph Kennedy for President today? If he was a successful bootlegger, he is a role model for modern executives. If Papa Joe wanted to appease a right-wing monster intent on tyrannizing the world, he would be ready for Rupert Murdoch. And if Joseph Kennedy was a shameless lecher, he had excellent taste. Gloria Swanson was a lot classier than Marilyn Monroe; in fact, a President of France would have been jealous.

So, in the face of this scandal, John McCain’s correct response should be “thank you!”

How would you like to rule over an impoverished, fractious land with the added perk of a violent death? Just send your resume to 15th or 16th century Scotland.

On this day in 1437, James I resolved an argument with some cousins by being stabbed to death. He also set a precedent for names and sudden deaths. His son was James II who, while besieging an English castle in 1460, belatedly discovered a need for caution when standing next to a cannon. He was succeeded by James III whose son just couldn’t wait to be James IV; among royalty, civil wars generally are family reunions. Having killed dear old dad, James IV became king in 1488. In 1513, he had a fatal family reunion, fighting his brother-in-law Henry VIII; and that created a job opening for James V. Unfortunately, in 1542, he was killed fighting his uncle Henry VIII. James V forgot to have any legitimate sons and he could not bring himself to naming his heir Jamesette. No, she was known as Mary, Queen of Scots. Her autopsy report is fairly well known. Mary’s heir was…wild guess…James VI; however, he heard of a job opening in London where the pay and longevity were better. He was the first reigning Stuart in nearly 200 years to die of natural causes.

Charles I must have been a traditionalist, chipped off the old block. But his descendants were content to die of the pox (both syphilitic or small) and alcoholism.

Imagine that you are an unbearable French aristocrat whose coach recklessly runs over starving children. What music would you have on your coach’s CD player? This, of course:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S5lZc34qF88

Apparently, this was the only music in 18th France because it is the only music that you have ever heard in a film in that seething setting. You may have categorized the tune as “Minuet to the Guillotine” but it actually is part a string quartet by Luigi Boccherini.

Popular in his day (1743-1805), Boccherini was in demand as a court composer. If you couldn’t get Haydn or Mozart, you settled for Boccherini. At the time, there was no shame in being third best, and he had commissions and positions in Madrid, Paris and Berlin. He seems to have avoided Vienna, however; maybe Salieri was dangerous.

Unfortunately, posterity judged Boccherini unkindly. By the standards of the 19th century, he was dismissed as a second-rate Haydn. Yet, in another century and hemisphere, Boccherini–or at least three minutes of his work–enjoyed a tremendous revival. Louis B. Mayer would have offered him a contract, although certainly not for any requiem masses. Worse for the composer, he has been unable to collect any royalties for that ubiquitous minuet.

At least, we can offer him this solace: Happy Birthday Maestro.