And Now For Something Completely Treasonous....

PAUL E. BEGALA

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TO: George W. Bush

FROM: Paul E. Begala

RE: How you can win the election (maybe)

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I am writing this real slow, ‘cause I know you don’t read too fast.

I know, cheap shot. But if you’re going to win the election (a proposition I both doubt and fear) you have got to overcome a few major obstacles, among them the sense that, well--how can I put this delicately?--you’re a few French fries short of a Happy Meal. Even if you get beyond that, you’ll have to deal with your record as governor of Texas, businessman and general bon vivant.

But first things first. How do you get folks like me to stop saying you’re lighter than my grandma’s biscuits, that you’re Dan Quayle without the experience? How do you get fellow Texans like Jim Hightower to stop saying that if ignorance is bliss, you’re the happiest man in America, or that you only studied Spanish so you could be bi-ignorant? In short, how do you prove you’re not a dummy?

First, the good news. The bar’s real low. Ronald Reagan’s illness is a terrible tragedy, and having seen Alzheimer’s strike my own family, my heart goes out to the lion-hearted Nancy Reagan and the entire family. But long before Reagan fell ill, folks believed he wasn’t exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer. Yet we made him president in two landslide elections. Why? It’s because Reagan had a simple but powerful world view, a sense of himself, his country and our destiny that was magical, majestic and mythic. People don’t use words like that to describe you.

The difference between you and Reagan is not gray matter, it’s gray hair. It’s the gravitas, stupid. Reagan was not only older, he was more serious. He never projected the hip, flip, cynical frat-rat image we get from you. Reagan saluted; you smirk. So grow up, Junior. Carry yourself with more dignity. At least act like you think the presidency is more important than the latest Delta Kappa Epsilon kegger. You don’t have to convince us you’re smart; just don’t convince us you’re a smart-aleck.

Stop saying you’ll surround yourself with good people. It’s an admission that, for you, a mind-reader would only charge half price. Also, it’ll lead folks to look at the people you appointed in Texas, such as the man you hired to train the state police, who said the term “porch monkeys” was not a racial slur.

And for God’s sake, George, learn how to give a speech. Bill Clinton can move an audience to tears. If your convention appearance looks like a hostage tape, you can kiss the White House goodbye.

I know you don’t like to study, but you’re going to have to bone up on some issues. You speak with real authority on education. (Which is a wonder, since your college friends say that when they wanted to hide something from you, they’d put it in a book.) But other than baseball, education is the only topic on which you speak without your eyes looking like a slot machine that’s hit bar-apple-lemon.

One way to force a recalcitrant pupil to study is to schedule a test. If I were you, I’d challenge Gore to an early debate--on foreign policy only. That way, if you don’t do well, it’s on an issue on which Gore is expected to know more. And I’ve got just the cheat-sheet for you: study only the “I” countries. I’m not kidding. Every nation that’s politically important starts with an I. Think about it: Israel, Iran, Iraq, India, Ireland, Italy. And if you throw in a few tidbits about the more obscure I countries, such as Iceland and Indonesia, people may forget that you didn’t even know what continent Mexico is on.

So gravitas is Job One. Once you get past that you’re in much better shape. But you’ve still got to deal with the Texas record. The Democrats will likely overplay their hand, trying to blame you for every bad thing in your great state (full disclosure: I’m a fellow Texan.) But you are vulnerable. For instance, you signed a law allowing Texans to carry guns in churches and vetoed a patients’ bill of rights. Your “voluntary compliance” policy for corporate polluters gave Houston the dirtiest air in America, and you appointed a man to run the state health department who said Mexican-Americans don’t have any stigma attached to unwed pregnancies.

Don’t try to weasel out of these messy facts. Ignore them. Remember Otter in “Animal House”? (How could you forget? You were Otter in “Animal House.”) When his fraternity was being kicked off campus for carousing, he admitted that rules were broken and, with a wink, acknowledged that some “liberties” were taken with female guests. But then he launched into a stirringly patriotic speech that made the befuddled pursuers look pathetically un-American. Use the Otter strategy. Rather than get dragged down with the specifics of why guns in church are a good thing, brag about your state and its people, and

declare that you’ve got better things to do than debate liberals who want to tear down the United States of America.

The same goes for your business dealings. Nobody knows that your oil company, Arbusto, was so badly run that folks called it “El-Busto,” or that you were bailed out by big-money boys interested in sucking up to your daddy. So don’t dwell on it.

The bottom line is that you must talk about your lofty plans for the future, not your shady deals of the past. Play to your strengths: a sunny disposition, a winning personality, and the ability to convince folks that you’re different from the old Cro-Magnon Republicans, while holding nearly all of the same positions on the issues.

Your candidacy will be a triumph of style over substance. Let Gore plod along with his 10-point plans and well-thought-out position papers. You stay on the sunshine-and-smiles strategy, and hope like hell people don’t develop an appetite for meaty ideas between now and November.