Beating Around the Bushes
Kitty Kelly's Bush family bio is due out today. I'm an avid reader of her stuff, though I consider her a fabulist more than a biographer. I don't mean that as a put-down, either. Her Nancy Reagan tome alone–which among other things painted Mommie Poo Pants as an offscreen Hollywood legend and as spreading the news with Sinatra on Dutch's watch–was more inventive and sexed-up than any dozen Almodovar films (would we expect any less from a First Lady who gave Mr. T. the most famous pre-Monica lap dance at 1600 Pennsylvania Ave?). It's just that I wouldn't trust her the way, say, I trust CBS News. Or maybe I trust her just the same.
From the p.r. build up, the big revelation is that Dubya snorted some blow at Camp David back when Poppy was prez. Not a bad tale to tell, even if the source, the ex-wife of Fredo Neil Bush, denies she ever said anything like that. But god, as a disinterested observer who will not be voting for Bush or Kerry, let's hope there's something more recent–and scarifying–than that. In a post-Clinton age, that's about as scandalous as an indiscretion in a Henry James novel.
Get the dish (literally) on Kelly in this Wash Post story (spoiler alert: she skips the veal).
Whatever the book says–and however quickly it is discredited–the real loser is once again John Kerry, who just can't seem to buy a straight-up top-of-the-fold story since the Dem convention a hundred years ago. That as much as anything else about the guy may indicate he deserves to lose. After all, if he can't control the liberal-dominated media, how the hell is he going kick France's ass?