W. Redux (Shut. Up. Part II)

I got to see snippets of W.’s final farewell press conference on Keith Olbermann’s show and on Rachel’s show.  For the past eight years, I have done my level best not to listen to a word that man has uttered because it only causes my blood to boil and my temper to rise.  I am a pacifist, but an angry one, and I have a sneaking suspicion that if I ever met W., I would punch him in the gut. 

Still, I forced myself to listen to the snippets because maybe, just maybe, he would accept some responsibility for the state of America today.

Not a chance.  He made a curiously passive reference to mistakes happening, but he didn’t take any ownership.  He was angry that he was criticized for the slow response to Katrina, but the one thing he touted was something he did not do–namely, the dispatching of Coast Guard helicopters that saved thousands on roof tops. 

W. was defiant; he was angry; he was accusatory; the one thing he was not–introspective.  When he did his bit about how pitiful it would be to hear the president whine, “Why me?”, I almost had to turn off the sound on my computer because his voice disturbed me so.

I was getting angry.  Here was the man who had put our country in shambles, and he was essentially telling us no, the earth really is flat.  He actually said with a straight face that other countries saw us as loving freedom or some other such ilk.  In his world, it seems, everything he did was perfectly wonderful and just.  I was muttering things under my breath that I most definitely would not say in front of kids, but then I took a good look at the man.   He looks twenty years older than he did when he first became president.  Even though he was declaring everything was a-ok in America, you could tell by his body language that he mostly was trying to convince himself.

For the past week or two, I have been mulling over the idea that W. is in some serious denial.  I mean, I know his staff keeps the bad news from him, but even HE can’t be stupid enough to think that the world loves him.  Watching his last press conference (though, not his final farewell.  Like Cher on her farewell tour, he just refuses to go quietly), I realized that W. has to deny how horrible things really are.  Why?  If he were to acknowledge to himself even a fifth of all the harm he’s done–how in hell would he be able to live with himself?  Think of all the things he’s fucked up, of all the people who’ve died on his watch, of the economy, of our image abroad, of condoned torture methods.  Now, think of being the person who instigated each and every one of these failures.  Any thinking person, like Oedipus on discovering he killed his father and married his mother, would poke out his eyes and go crazy. 

Since introspection would probably drive W. over the edge or back to the drink, the only thing he has left is his web of denials to keep him warm at night. 

So, a bit of insight into the head of still-president W.  Still, all in all, I would prefer if he kept his rationalizations and denials to himself.  We are the ones who will have to deal with the mess he’s left behind–and President-Elect Obama, of course.  The only thing I want to hear from W. are the words, “I’m sorry, America.  I fucked up.”