-Caveat Lector-

http://www.nypress.com/14/23/news&columns/beans.cfm

Hill of Beans
Christopher Caldwell
Pour, Little Rich Girl

There are only two things I’ve ever told foreigners about the United States
that they simply refused to believe. The first is that partial-birth abortion is
legal in this country. A few years ago, during a public debate on abortion that
was then roiling all of Ireland, a Dublin taxi driver told me he didn’t understand
what all the fuss was over. I told him that the recent debate in the United
States had been focused not so much on abortion in general as on certain late-
term procedures.

When I explained what partial-birth abortion was, the cabbie flat-out told
me I was full of it. The more I tried to convince him that the procedure was
actually legal–and, what’s more, actually performed–the more he thought
I was one of those anti-American ideologues who don’t realize what a good
thing they’ve got, and who invent propaganda to make their country sound
like some kind of fascist slaughterhouse. In short, he thought I was lying.

The second instance in which American customs have put me in the position
of Ripley’s Believe It or Not concerns our drinking laws. Last Bastille Day, I
visited friends in a small town in Normandy. After the fireworks, the entire
extended family wandered over to a cafe patio and we all ordered drinks. My
friend Guillaume ordered a panaché for his 11-year-old son. I asked him what a
panaché was, and that launched us on a 10-minute excursion into utter mutual
incomprehension.

"It’s half beer, half lemonade," he explained. "You must have something like
it in the United States."
"No, we prefer to drink just beer."
"I mean for kids."
"Well, kids can’t drink in the United States."
"But, say, when they go out to a bar and their father orders a–"
"Kids don’t go into bars."
"Of course not, but if a boy’s with his father and–"
"It doesn’t matter," I said. "It’s against the law for a father
to order a beer for his kid."

This is where understanding broke down totally. "No, you see, the child
doesn’t order the beer," Guillaume went on, his patience rapidly eroding. "The
father–"
"It doesn’t matter," I repeated.

Guillaume called over his older brother Maurice, who had a reputation as the
town savant, and explained what we’d been talking about. Maurice did an
extraordinary thing: he told me that what I was saying could not possibly be
true, and if I actually went back and checked the relevant U.S. laws, I’d find…

In other words, he went all colonial on me. He treated me as if I were some
savage who misunderstood the hard facts of his own country. It was as if I
were a tribesman from Mbonkoland telling a couple of tourists that his
country’s leading industry is tin mining, which confuses the tourists, who
know the country mines nickel, not tin. The confusion would get resolved
when some "old Mbonkoland hand" explained that, in the Mbonkolese
languages, "tin" is the word used for any metal. But there was no old
American hand around, and no possibility of mutual understanding.

As the meaning of Barbara and Jenna Bush’s alcohol troubles gets masticated
in the press, the key point to bear in mind is the one that most easily gets lost.
It’s that there are no customs on Earth more bizarre than America’s
alcohol laws. When you think of them, think of suttee, foot-binding, and ritual
scarification.

The 19-year-old Bush twins were arrested at an Austin saloon last week for
underage drinking. Naturally, there’s no evidence that either of them has an
unnatural relationship with alcohol–so the state of Texas has taken it upon
itself to provide them with one. Owing partly to a jurisdictional
accident–Barbara Bush attends Yale in semi-civilized Connecticut and Jenna
attends UT in enforcement-mad Texas–Barbara will probably get off with
community service, but Jenna could be in a world of pain. You see, Jenna has
a prior conviction for underage drinking. She was sentenced just three weeks
ago to community service and alcohol education lessons. And it emerged at
the end of last week that Jenna may actually have two prior convictions. There
is a 1997 incident on police databases. Because Jenna
was a juvenile at the time it has not been revealed whether that incident was
an arrest or merely a warning. If Jenna does in fact have a third underage
drinking offense on her record, then under Texas’ ridiculous "three strikes"
law, she could face a jail term of up to six months. The horrid irony here is
that Jenna’s own father not only signed that law but actually agitated for
it.

Almost anyone who thinks for a second about Jenna’s predicament will find
himself pulled in opposite directions. The dual sympathies that result resemble
those of the Monica Lewinsky scandal. At least they resemble mine. On the
one hand, there was simply no way that the American people should have had
their constitutional right to choose their president nullified because moralists
objected to that president’s having had an affair. On the other hand, the
President was in danger of impeachment because he himself had signed a
Violence Against Women Act that was an outrage
to freedom worthy of the Khmer Rouge. And not just signed it–crowed about
it, and belittled those who raised libertarian objections to it. Under the act’s
feminist-dictated terms, any woman suing a man for the nebulous "crime"
of sexual harassment was entitled to demand under oath his entire sexual
curriculum vitae. And that’s just what Paula Jones did.

Back to Jenna. On the one hand, there is no way that George Bush’s daughter
should go to jail for having a drink. (What would make that outcome even
more sickening, should it transpire, is that most of the people passing
judgment on her–from the cops to the prosecutors to the jury to the
judge–will likely have done with impunity exactly what she did.) On the other
hand, if she does enter the prison system–a prison system, by the way, that
Bush did nothing to make less brutal and degrading–it will be as a result of her
own father’s presidential resume-building.

In both Clinton’s case and Bush’s, it was easy to envision two happy
outcomes, one ideal, one passable. Ideal would have been a nationwide
reconsideration, led by the President himself, of the idiotic and illogical laws
that had brought us to this pass, to be followed by concerted effort to
overturn them. Second best would be an exercise of the presidential pardon
authority to ensure that, if the law doesn’t apply to the president or his family,
at least no one else gets held liable under it. Neither happened in Clinton’s
case. Clinton’s strategy was to ignore the people whose lives had been
wrecked by his stupid law, and aim at his accusers an all-out smear campaign.
(It’s true that some of those accusers were ruthless and
unscrupulous–ruthless and unscrupulous enough to use the Violence
Against Women act exactly as President Clinton had intended
his ruthless and unscrupulous allies to use it.)

Bush has not been ruthless like his predecessor, but neither has his
administration exercised much–to use a tough-on-crime shibboleth–"personal
responsibility."

Bush’s spokesman Ari Fleischer even got on his high horse, in an attempt
to bully reporters off the story. "I would urge all of you to very carefully
think through how much you want to pursue this," he lectured the press last
week. "Any reaction of the parents is parental; it is not governmental. It
is family. It’s private and the American people respect that." To which
one can only say: No it isn’t! No they don’t! They may say they
do, but the American people have persisted in electing Draconian enforcers
like George W. Bush. So Fleischer has it exactly backwards. If Jenna Bush
risks getting her young life derailed over nothing, it’s because of her father’s
insistence that the job of teaching kids to drink responsibly be taken out of
parents’ hands, and placed in the hands of government.
Volume 14, Issue 23


--

Best Wishes


Without question, the greatest invention in the history of mankind is
beer.á Oh, I grant you that the wheel was also a fine invention, but the
wheel does not go nearly as well with pizza.
- Dave Barry, "Dave Barry's Bad Habits"

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