My uncle, a former high school history teacher, pontificated last night that President George W. Bush was an infantile man with Attention Deficit Disorder, that he was a “frat boy.” We had gotten into Iraq, my uncle proclaimed, because Bush wanted to avenge his father, finish the job his father started in order to make his daddy proud, and because he had his daddy were chummy with big oil. Saddam was a rational business, my uncle’s theory goes, who would have been driven by the economic imperative no to attack the United States, the largest market for his oil.
If the President were one of his students, my uncle advised, he would have recommended him for counseling.
There’s really no way to address this. It comes from a universe built on jaundice, an unwavering plane wherein certainty of the absurd is commonplace.
But the man knows his horses.
