Coins of the Realm, &c.

On Caesarism and republicanism; Assata Shakur; a Hindu holiday; and more

Photo by Dan Dennis on Unsplash

It sounds like a joke: “Did you hear the one about the U.S. president who put himself on a coin?” And yet it is no joke. It has not come to pass yet—but will it?

A lot of people bristle when you say that Trumpism is Caesaristic, at best. But how much longer can it be denied? Americans are supposed to have a republican spirit. We have long prided ourselves on that. But we are vulnerable to the same temptations, and the same ills, as others ...

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As an exercise, it is often useful to play the “What if?” game. If you’re a Republican, you might ask: What if a Democratic president put himself, or herself, on a coin? What would I think?

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Above, I referred to a “republican spirit.” I believe that the White House, as a house, reflects this spirit. I have written about this for years. The White House is not Versailles.

Have you seen the Oval Office lately? (For a quick tour, go here.) It is—barely recognizable as the Oval Office. It has been Vegas-ized.

A president ought to have a sense of temporary stewardship over this place. It is not a personal lair.

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You may have seen this exchange between the Speaker of the House, Mike Johnson, and a Democratic congresswoman, Madeleine Dean. Dean says to Johnson, “The president is unhinged. He is unwell.” Johnson replies, “A lot of folks on your side are too.”

The first thing to note, probably, is that Johnson does not say, “What are you talking about? He is not!” But I would like to make a second point as well.

Often, when I argue that Trump is unfit for his office, my Republican friends will say, “Well, think of all the nuts on the left!” My usual response is: “Quite right. I would not nominate them for president. To say nothing of three times in a row.”

You know?

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About two weeks ago, the Cuban Foreign Ministry announced the death of Assata Shakur. She was 78. I have written about her over the years, particularly when speaking about the admiration that many have for violent radicals. Their romanticization. I would like to quote from a piece published in 2012. I do so, not to dance on this woman’s grave, but to point out a weakness in our culture. Anyway, that is my excuse.

... many of the killers fled abroad, and mainly they fled to Cuba—Castro was happy to receive them and show them off. Something like 70 American fugitives are in Cuba. One of them is Charlie Hill, who, after killing a cop in New Mexico, hijacked a plane. But probably the most famous of them is Joanne Chesimard, a.k.a. Assata Shakur. She killed her cop in 1973. (His name was Werner Foerster; Hill’s was Robert Rosenbloom.) In 1979, she escaped from prison, whereupon she found her way to Castro.

Oh, the press she enjoys! In 1997, Essence magazine published an interview with her: “Prisoner in Paradise.” (“Paradise” would be totalitarian Cuba.) She said things like “I represent someone who has dedicated her life to the liberation of my people.” Two years later, the New York Times published an article by a Princeton theologian, defending her. He called her an “activist”—which is one way of putting it. He also said she was “vibrant” and “articulate,” which no doubt she is. More vibrant and articulate than a dead cop.

She has been the subject of many songs, poems, and other tributes. One of them is by a rapper called Common: “A Song for Assata.” One line goes, “All this sh** so we could be free, so dig it, y’all.” A year ago, Common was invited to perform in an “Evening of Poetry” at the White House. Law-enforcement associations and other squares objected, but they were easily brushed off.

Burns me.

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“Dem Ossoff raises $12M in 3 months, brings his U.S. Senate war chest to $21M.” I read that here—and I had a question: “Is that a lot?” When I was growing up, a million dollars really meant something. And 21 times that was positively staggering! But the scale of things changes ...

Bill Buckley liked to tell a story about Lee Iacocca, the auto executive. In 1984, Iacocca published an autobiography. Shortly after publication, someone told him the book had already sold 600,000 copies. In his innocence, Iacocca asked, “Is that good?”

Heh. (Many authors would have killed for 25,000, and they would still.)

Iacocca knew sales figures when it came to cars, but not when it came to books. In the end, his autobiography sold like 7 million.

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A report from the Associated Press, datelined L.A.:

California has become the third U.S. state to designate Diwali—the Hindu “Festival of Lights”—as an official statewide holiday.

Gov. Gavin Newsom signed a bill into law Tuesday to go into effect on Jan. 1. It would authorize public schools and community colleges to close on Diwali.

I remember what my friend Vivek Dave said two years ago when the New York City public schools declared Diwali an official holiday: “If they really wanted to honor Indian culture, they’d make the kids go to school a half-day on Saturday.”

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Two days ago, I was in “my diner,” near the golf range (Star on 18) (that’s the name of the diner, not the range). My friend Roberto, waiting tables, asked me, “Who do you think is going to win the mayor’s race?” I told him. He then said, “You know, Jay? You should be mayor. You’d be really good.”

Ladies and gentlemen, I’m feeling a draft. Have I missed the filing deadline?

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I’d like to throw a little music at you. For a review of Bellini’s opera La sonnambula at the Met, go here. And for a review of Carnegie Hall’s opening night—featuring Yuja Wang as pianist (and conductor, actually)—go here.

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When you say “the Met” in New York, you have to distinguish: Are you talking about the Metropolitan Opera or the Metropolitan Museum of Art? Last night, late, I found myself walking past the museum. It has a certain allure, at that hour.

Thank you so much for joining me, my friends, and I’ll see you soon.