October 7, 2004  eSLASHculture 3.24

-The following is an excerpt from an article on CNN.com posted October 9, 2004.

Bush's Startling New Debate Tactic

    In his second televised debate, President George W. Bush shocked spectators and his adversary Senator John Kerry with a bold new strategy.  Stung by the abject failure of his first debate, Bush's brain trust and handlers decided a week ago to pursue a radical new approach.  Top level campaign strategist Karl Rove was frank about the first debate.  "We lost it big time.  The public criticized Bush for being angry, inarticulate, and unable to muster coherent responses to Kerry's attacks," Rove explained.  "We decided that this perception of the President as some dim-witted, hostile, down home back porch politico had to be refuted forcefully.  That's why we looked at all the options and worked ceaselessly all week with the President to developed a bold new approach.  We will highlight his refined elocution, his cognizance of the issues, and his ability to enunciate rhetoric of the highest order.  It should be quite a debate," Rove said immediately prior to the candidates taking the stage.

    With a palpable sense of excitement, the audience at Washington University in St. Louis politely applauded Senator Kerry when he was introduced.  Kerry, dressed in a charcoal gray suit and maroon tie, seemed relaxed and at ease as he strode to the podium.  The audience, however, gasped as President Bush was introduced.  The President came bounding out from the wings dressed in a red velvet doublet, green knee breaches and matching hose, and a large, ruffled Elizabethan collar.  Striding lithely to his podium, he bowed deeply at the knee to Senator Kerry and the moderator and then with a flourish he doffed his velvet feathered cap to the frankly stunned audience.

    As agreed upon prior to the debate, Senator Kerry was allowed to make the first opening statement.  With his new found directness of style, the Massachusetts Senator wasted no time in forcefully making his case against the Bush administration and its management of the war in Iraq.   After a scathing two minute dressing down of the President, all eyes turned towards Bush.  With a lighthearted tossing aside of his cape, the President struck a contemplative pose and addressed the audience.

                    "Now is the autumn of our discontent," Bush said.

                     Made glorious summer by this son of Boston:

                    All the clouds that lowered upon our house

                    In the deep bosom of Iraq are now buried.

                    Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths,

                    Our weapons of mass destruction hung up for monuments,

                    Our stern amber alarums changed to merry meetings,

                    Our dreadful marches to merry 5K jogs."

    Though speaking in perfectly measured iambic pentameter and with a nimble cadence, it was clear that at exactly this point the President had completely lost his audience.  Far removed from the stumbling, irritated tones of the first debate, Bush clearly was committed to taking the high road in this contest.  He favored the questioners at the "town hall" style meeting with a flurry of compelling rhetorical gambits.  From the complex conceit comparing Kerry's domestic policies to a "rose which hath been unduly deprived of half the measure of sun deeply warranted by this son of the Democrats" to the brilliant onomatopoetic deconstruction of Kerry's Iraq war plan ("Oh mumbling, humbling, stumbling swain, thy furrowed brow belies the rattling, prattling clangor or thy words"), there was no denying the rhetorical brilliance of Bush's counterattacks.  Still the audience and moderator who no doubt anticipated a sharp, contentious debate were clearly flummoxed by the President's radical new direction.  The first debate was marred by Bush's transparent anger and frustration. In the second debate, Bush made a point of courteously awaiting his opponent's rejoinders in a polite pose of attentive silence.  In an unprecedented show of good will, while declaring in sonnet form his party's plans for overhauling the Social Security system, the President strode nimbly into the audience and presented a lovely nosegay to Theresa Heinz-Kerry who sat in stunned silence.

    Courteous, well-mannered, and deferential to a fault at the conclusion of the ninety minute debate, the President donned his plumed cap and cape.  After a hearty handclasp with his opponent and a deep courtly bow to the audience, President Bush departed.

    In "spin alley" backstage, Republican pundits were quick to claim total victory praising the President's eloquence and refined style.  However, instant polls revealed that Bush lost the debate catastrophically.  Polls indicated that a 96% majority of undecided voters favored Kerry over the incumbent.  Polls also showed that among minorities, women voters, and first time voters the President was badly outscored by a nine to one margin.  Republican bloggers were quick to call attention to a few bright spots.  The President boasted a commanding lead as the clear winner among high school drama teachers, English professors, and unpublished poets. 

    Democrat spinmeisters pointed out that President Bush's bizarre performance was a convincing illustration that the President and his administration have once again completely lost touch with the American public and its concerns.  A clearly disappointed Karl Rove was direct in his comments.  "I can't believe we lost!  Did they see the same debate I saw?  The President's command of poetic imagery and his powerful use of metaphor, hyperbole, and euphony were uncontested by Kerry.  If it were a prize fight, they would have called it in the first round!"

    When questioned about any changes the campaign might undertake before the final debate next week in Phoenix, Rove seemed at a loss.  "We'll just go back to the drawing board I guess.  If the 17th century courtier strategy can't convince a nation desperately in need of leadership that Bush is their only choice, I don't know what will.  Maybe next week we'll try something different .. maybe we'll put him in a toga with some laurel wreaths ... that might do the trick."  Sensing that this might indeed be the winning direction, Rove's cronies and the Bush hangers-on began to chant "Toga! Toga! Toga!" loudly as the sets were struck, the kegs tapped, and the rolling carnival of the Presidential campaign prepared to move West to Arizona.