(Some comments from David Rossie:)
George Bush is at his best before a captive or invitation-only audience, where he can display his down-home folksiness, secure in the knowledge that there will be ample applause and no surprise questions -- usually no questions at all.
With the national press corps, even one as cowed as this one, there is always the possibility that some smart-aleck will slip in a question that wasn't anticipated in the briefing.
However, when you have a president who is not the brightest bulb in the chandelier in the first place, syntactically challenged in the second, and inclined to be huffy when things aren't going his way in the third, you have the makings of a public relations disaster.
And that is why G.W. has had but eight live press conferences during the two years he's been in office. During the same period, the garrulous Clinton had 30.
So, Karl Rove's concern, as Bush sallied forth into the lion's den -- populated for the most part by lapdogs -- was understandable, even though extreme steps had been taken to avoid any embarrassing moments. Members of the press corps who would be called upon were selected beforehand. And it was reported that their questions had been submitted in advance. Bush's perusal of written notes before answering some questions supports that assertion.
The most disturbing aspect of that hour-long exercise in obfuscation, however, was Bush's behavior. The NY Times summed it up with a masterful touch that did not step over the line into subjectivity, but still spelled it out for anyone willing to see it. "Mr. Bush," they wrote, sounding sedate..."
Add the letter "d" to the last word in that phrase, and you get a chillingly accurate description of Bush's demeanor throughout that weird hour. The Times' Maureen Dowd suggested Xanax. My own guess was Ritalin or Prozac.
Given the extent of public disapproval -- both here and overseas -- of the administration's determination to invade Iraq, Bush's handlers could not risk a display of petulance of a kind that has marked some of his other press conferences. So instead of a lively give-and-take on a sensitive and complex issue, we got nearly an hour in which nearly every question was followed by a the same vague, answer, or non-answer.
There was one exception, when one of the hand-picked questioners tossed Dubyuh a Nerfball. Was his faith sustaining him? she asked. Indeed it is, Dubyuh replied. He prays constantly, and he and Laura are lifted up by the prayers of others.
The Wall Street Journal's Al Hunt said he watched the press conference along with others at a broadcasters' gathering, in near disbelief. They were stunned at first by Bush's trancelike state and vague responses, and eventually bored by them. Ten minutes into the conference, Hunt said, they turned it off.
Not everyone saw it that way. By Saturday, Bush's handlers had spun a different story. The president, White House chief of staff Andrew Card said, was simply composed and serene, having spent 10 minutes before the press conference alone in meditation. Then he strode to the lectern "presenting himself ...as a leader impervious to doubt."
We may have doubts. The world may have doubts, but not our leader. That's because, again according to his staff, Bush "sees the world as a biblical struggle of good versus evil."
We are supposed to find that reassuring. In which case, let us pray and pray hard.
A very weird hour with the president
