The Ends (and Means) of History

This week is every bit the world-changing event I had hoped it would be. The girl and I went out last night and watched "W." to get a sense of the what we're leaving behind. It's not a very good movie, but it does do a nice, if cartoonish job of summing up Bush's approach to foreign policy and the Team of Ribalds he surrounded himself with.

On a more somber note, as ecstatic as we are for Obama and what he represents, I think his true story, and the story of his presidency, will be much more somber. The death of "Toots" the day before the election was fitting, a mark of what all of this will mean for him. I don't think there has been another present who felt as profoundly the weight of the office since L.B.J. And it destroyed him. When Obama is not speaking -- when he's just walking, or standing there, looking down, I think you can see how much it weighs on him, and how much he senses that he's become a vehicle for history (because at his level, no one is the driver -- ask Carter).

I think he will be a glimpse of the great leaders of the past. I think his administration will prove just as talented (if also, as driven by history and crisis) as his campaign was. As someone put it on N.P.R. the other day, he's the kind of guy who's likely to end up on some money. But I think he'll probably remain a mystery to us, always reserved, always, in some sense, with a foot inside that pantheon of great leaders, and hence, set apart.

The folks on his team are almost fanatical in their devotion (read this amazing post about his campaign and its people). He's a movement for them first, a man second. Even for those (outside Michelle and his family) who've known him the longest. And what that really means, is that among them, he's alone.

I don't know how to describe what I'm trying to express here -- how I feel about it. It's a mixture of respect, and sadness, and hope. He's not exactly a tragic figure, but behind all of the worship, I think, is a sad truth he's come to terms with: his life will never be his own. There's a good line in "W.," where Bush senior turns to junior and says, "maybe you should stay out of the barrel." 43 bridles at what he takes as his dad's preference for Jeb. But later he comes to see it as a reflection upon just how hard the Presidency is, and his dad's wish that his son would live a life he could enjoy. The great ones never have a choice. But they feel what they gave up.

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Upcoming from SNL: McCain Vice-President Interviews

I can just see it:

[McCain, sitting at desk with papers in front of him. Sign: "Join the 'Change We Can Believe In' Team!"]

[McCain]: Next!

[Door opens, and Satan walks in, in suit, with briefcase.]

[Satan]: Hi -- it's great to meet you! [Extends hand]

[McCain rises, eyes Satan a little curiously, but then shakes his hand.]: Um... Good to meet you, friend. Please sit. [Both take seats.]

[McCain]: Now ... Sei-tan. That's an unusual name!

[Satan]: Don't I know it! Gave me hell in Middle School. My family invented a wheat-protein-based meat substitute -- perhaps you heard of it?

[McCain]: Not really.

[Satan]: Trust me, you'd love it.
[CLICK ON LINK BELOW FOR MORE]

[McCain]: Fine, fine. Says here you're a regular church goer?

[Satan]: Every chance I get. I'm very popular there -- the preacher is always talking about me and my work.

[McCain]: Good, good. But it says you're not married?

[Satan]: No -- still playing the field. There was a girl, once. Anyway, it's a long story, she fell for another guy.

[McCain]: Sorry to hear it.

[Satan]: Yeah, well, you move on, hope for someone new.

[McCain]: I know what you mean. Now -- I don't know quite how to ask you this...

[Satan]: No, please, go ahead.

[McCain]: Well, it's a pretty high-profile job. And ... there's lots of photos and attention ... well. Are those horns?

[Satan, chuckling]: You wouldn't believe how often I get that question. No, it's a rare form of cystic acne. I've had it since I was a kid.

[McCain]: Oh, I'm so sorry. Well -- so long as we're on the topic ... was that a tail I saw when you walked in?

[Satan]: Nope. Congenital birth defect -- enlarged tailbone. I thought about having it removed when I got older -- but I'm proud to be me, you know?

[McCain]: Admirable. Now, please don't take this the wrong way ... [He looks around, whispers] Don't want the P.C. patrol to overhear this, but ... you're skin's bright red. Are you an Indian?

[Satan]: Lord, no! I just got back from the Bahamas. Mai-tai city.

[McCain]: Uh huh. [Stands up and offers hand.] Well, it sounds like you're a great candidate. I've got to run it by my advisers, of course [makes crazy gesture with his hand] but I don't mind telling you, I've got a feeling in my gut. I like you a lot -- you seem like a real soul-mate.

[Satan, rising quickly and shaking hand, with a grin]: Wow, thanks! This would just me the most amazing opportunity. Thank you!

[McCain]: No, thank you! [Sniffs] Huh, what's that -- is that sulfur?

[Satan]: I think my cologne's gone bad [Shrugs, sheepishly]. But it was a gift from grandma, you know.

[McCain]: You're a good man.

[Satan]: Thanks! I'll look forward to your call. [Exits]

[McCain sits down, ruffles through papers, picks up new sheet]: Hmm... Hitler -- now where have I heard that name before? [Shrugs] NEXT!

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