THIS MODERN WORLD

This one’s been making the rounds; chances are you’ve seen it but I thought I’d post it if only to keep my own inbox from overflowing with copies. I held off when I first saw it because it struck me as one of those too-perfect-to-be-true email forwards, like a Nostradamus prediction that a president named for shrubbery shall sow chaos in Babylon, or some such. But it’s legit — it’s on the Times’ own website, and I’ve seen a PDF of the original article.

U.S. Encouraged by Vietnam Vote
Officials Cite 83% Turnout Despite Vietcong Terror

by Peter Grose, Special to the New York Times

WASHINGTON, Sept. 3 (1967) — United States officials were surprised and heartened today at the size of turnout in South Vietnam’s presidential election despite a Vietcong terrorist campaign to disrupt the voting.

According to reports from Saigon, 83 per cent of the 5.85 million registered voters cast their ballots yesterday. Many of them risked reprisals threatened by the Vietcong.

….A successful election has long been seen as the keystone in President Johnson’s policy of encouraging the growth of constitutional processes in South Vietnam. The election was the culmination of a constitutional development that began in January, 1966, to which President Johnson gave his personal commitment when he met Premier Ky and General Thieu, the chief of state, in Honolulu in February.

The purpose of the voting was to give legitimacy to the Saigon Government, which has been founded only on coups and power plays since November, 1963, when President Ngo Dinh Deim was overthrown by a military junta.

From a reader:

In 1993, Senate Democrats lined up to oppose the confirmation of Zoe Baird, President Clinton’s choice to be the nation’s top law enforcement officer, over her hiring of undocumented immigrants in violation of the law. Now, the Senate is poised to vote on the confirmation of Alberto Gonzales, who has effectively advised President Bush that he was above the law, and could order the torture of detainees in U.S. custody. Clinton withdrew Baird’s nomination, at her request. Today, however, neither President Bush nor Mr. Gonzales appear inclined to free Senate Republicans from the embarrassing choice of either voting for torture, or voting against their president. I think we can all agree that the issue of torture carries greater moral and practical weight than does the green card status of two household workers.

I’m generally inclined to let the President have his choice of cabinet members. But not today. Democrats and conscientious Republicans should join in opposing Mr. Gonzales’ confirmation. Call your Senators today and tell them how you feel.

You can find contact information for your Senators here.

More personal thank yous are forthcoming, but I wanted to post a shoutout to those of you who sent stuff via the wish list. This job of mine is relatively isolating, and it’s an extraordinary thing that anyone is inspired to respond like that. That’s not something I take lightly, or for granted.

Every year, probably for the past decade or so, I’ve put together my own entry for the Pulitzer (because, as a freelancer, I don’t have a home paper to do it for me). It’s a tedious process — you have to mount original clips in a scrapbook format, which, for me, means hassling various editors to dig up the clips I need (because I never remember to save that stuff), and then spending several hours breathing spray mount as I play cut-and-paste, and then writing a fifty dollar check and sending the whole package off into the void, from which it shall never be heard again. (Some of you may remember that I’ve mentioned my disgust with the whole process before.)

In short, it’s always been a complete waste of time.

And this year when I thought about acting out that pointless little ritual once again, I found that I just didn’t have it in me. Let’s face it — the gatekeepers of the most prestigious award in journalism are not going to be handing it to Tom Tomorrow anytime soon. Not that I am wallowing in self-pity over this — just feeling reality-based.

Anyway, I’m done. This is my declaration of liberation. I’m not going to waste my time chasing that particular brass ring any longer. Deadline’s tomorrow, and I won’t be slipping in under the wire.

…continues unabated:

I had arrived early to get a head start on mingling among the roughly 6,000 people eating and dancing to celebrate the president’s reelection. Unaware of the new escort policy (it wasn’t in place during the official parties following the 2001 inauguration), I blithely assumed that in the world’s freest nation, I was free to walk around at will and ask the happy partygoers such national security-jeopardizing questions as, “Are you having a good time?”

Big mistake. After cruising by the media pen — a sectioned-off area apparently designed for corralling journalists — a sharp-eyed volunteer spotted my media badge. “You’re not supposed to go out there without an escort,” she said.

I replied that I had been doing just fine without one, and walked over to a quiet corner of the hall to phone in some anecdotes to The Post’s Style desk.

As I was dictating from my notes, something flashed across my face and neatly snatched my cell phone from of my hand. I looked up to confront a middle-aged woman, her face afire with rage. “You ignored the rules, and I’m throwing you out!” she barked, snapping my phone shut. “You told that girl you didn’t need an escort. That’s a lie! You’re out of here!”

* * *

Recovering quickly, I explained that I had been unaware of the escort policy. She was unbending and ordered a couple of security guards to hustle me out. I appealed to them, saying that I was more than happy to follow whatever ground rules had been laid down. They shrugged, and deposited me back in the media pen.

* * *

Consider that the escorts weren’t there to provide security; all of us had already been through two checkpoints and one metal detector. They weren’t there to keep me away from, Heaven forbid, a Democrat or a protester; those folks were kept safely behind rings of fences and concrete barriers. Nor were the escorts there to admonish me for asking a rude question of the partying faithful, or to protect the paying customers from the prying media.

Their real purpose only occurred to me after I had gone home for the night, when I remembered a brief conversation with a woman I was interviewing. During the middle of our otherwise innocuous encounter, she suddenly noticed the presence of my minder. She stopped for a moment, glanced past me, then resumed talking.

No, the minders weren’t there to monitor me. They were there to let the guests, my sources on inaugural night, know that any complaint, any unguarded statement, any off-the-reservation political observation, might be noted. But maybe someday they’ll be monitoring something more important than an inaugural ball, and the source could be you.

Via Frank Lynch, whose photoblogging almost makes me miss Brooklyn.