Now let's see, where was I

    A long incubation, 

    some Friday nights

   

 

Antinous at Delphi

1894

What's become of General Kelly?

Who can forget our Augean stables,

and our Hercules' unenviable task

of mucking them out, without just-

ifying this lapse of memory in the

rising fumes of Mick Mulvaney's in-

delicate tenure as nurse to the O-

val Office? The one bedrock maxim,

tenuously governing this nursery in

the last couple of years, has been

to prevent the tenant from choosing

his own playmates. Somehow, someone

wasn't looking, and in bounded Iago

to seduce Othello to even drearier

self-injury. What's become of wear-

ing freshened nappies, now and then?

Bargain days on the foreign policy fanny

  Never let it be said that our
  American President hasn't em-
  pathy for a beast in a hurry.
  In town for an election pick-
  me-up from an avatar in arms,
  Israel's Netanyahu scarfed up
  a luscious bit of sovereignty
  belonging to another country,
  in typically Presidential re-
  spect for belligerent spoils.

  Quick, dear Vlad. If the Go-
  lan Heights are alienable at
  our whim, cuddle on down for
  Mar-a-Lago's tribute to Cri-
  mea. No treat is ever exces-
  sive to ask, when his vanity
  is on full tweet, as in that
  rollback of sanctions worked
  only last week, because they
  feel good about North Korean
  nuclear development where he
  weekends.

  In America, we abjure objec-
  tions to our President's vi-
  olations of international
  law, on the fastidious pre-
  cedent we've set for domes-
  tic laws which stand in his
  way. We deny he is a craven
  bum boy to strongmen every-
  where, always overpaying in
  cakes of our security. That
  said, he surely means well,
  much as dear King Kong did,
  when distracted by Fay Wray.

A bright Purcellian welcome ode would be nice, just now

Thrilling lyrics and trumpets

aside, we take great heart to

receive the summation of long

investigation of the subject:

that the government of the U-

nited States is, just possib-

ly, in somewhat lawful hands.

"If it's bad, George, don't come back"

Who, possibly, could wish to make 

light of the robotic self-erasure

of the principal other country on

this planet where you can request

a whisky, and expect to be served

Scotch? But not even they care to

be reminded of the place, so ten-

nuous now is any sort of union of

clever states with Great Britain.

The politest concession to be of-

fered to the political structures

which used to rule over a quarter

of the globe, is that they became

uninhabitable by anyone. Besides,

who could honestly confess to be-

ing on his knees to remember that

catastrophe by the name, Theresa?

It got bad, and Connie had wanted

to remember them all just as they

were. Connie, that dogged, heroic

sifter of scraps of spycraft when

George was Smiley in a regulation

bowler. Who's next? Take a guess.

Nostalgia for greatness seems for

English speakers, what revivalism

is for gospelers: a literacy test.

Burt Glinn

London

1964