February 4, 2002 9:05 a.m.

’m sorry, but I’ve had it with those nude statues in the Great Hall of the Department of Justice. They’ve caused too much mischief for conservative attorneys general. Remember when Ed Meese announced the findings of the Justice Department’s Commission on Pornography? (This was usually called “the Meese Commission,” because the press hated Meese and wanted to link him to something they also hated. Actually, President Reagan mandated the commission, and William French Smith was attorney general during virtually the entirety of its work. Meese came on in time to announce the findings.) Anyway, when Meese made his announcement, it was in front of these statues, which caused great and ignorant yukking among the press: Didn’t those step on your message, Mr. Dumb Puritan? And Meese, of course, was talking about such stuff as the roping of vulnerable runaway boys into pornography. The obfuscation done by the anti-anti-porn people — as though the rape of children for pictures and the display of the Venus de Milo amounted to the same thing — is one of the dirtiest tricks of our time.

And now John Ashcroft has been bitten by The Great Breast — apparently, someone wanted it covered for the AG’s press conferences. And this has given the press an excuse to say that Ashcroft hates dancing and is basically unfit for American life.

Rarely have inanimate objects caused high officials so many problems. If they’re going to call us philistines, yahoos, and boobs anyway — why don’t we just do away with the other kind of boobs in the Great Hall?

You may have noticed that Condi Rice addressed the C-PAC conference, a hotbed of rabid right-wingers (and I say that affectionately). Many Republican officials like to stay away from this event — they don’t want the taint of the RR (Rabid Right). (Ronald Reagan, yes. Rabid Right, no.) Well, Rice didn’t stay away. I have long rooted for this lady to enter the electoral arena, and I hope she does after she finishes the second Bush term as secretary of state. And if she does, an acquaintance with C-PAC won’t hurt.

Many commentators have been ballyhooing the Washington Post’s recent series on the White House directly after 9/11. I read one installment — and it was indeed interesting — and would like to comment on two items.

One paragraph got under my skin deeply:

Bush then called Sharon in an effort to prod the Israeli leader to take steps to try to reduce the violence that threatened to destroy any hopes of peace in the Middle East. Bush believed that Israel ultimately could be one of the principal beneficiaries of a global war on terrorism and wanted Sharon to see that as well. It was not clear that Sharon understood Bush’s message.

Oh, really? Ariel Sharon a little cloudy about a war on terrorism and what it might mean for Israel? Right. Look: Arik Sharon was fighting terrorists — shooting at them and being shot at by them — when the current president was in school. When he was puking his guts out. When he was failing, then succeeding, in business. And when he was thinking about running for governor of the Lone Star State. Sharon has forgotten more about terrorism and the dimensions of fighting it than Bush will ever know. The continual American condescension to Israel on this issue is astounding to me.

But let me put my Bush hat on and issue something positive. The Post article reported that, in the aftermath of the attacks, the president’s team gathered in Dick Cheney’s cabin at Camp David for a meal of . . . buffalo.

I don’t know about you — this isn’t very logical, just a gut feeling — but I feel very good about the fact that the leadership of this nation in war is eating buffalo. It’s a buffalo-eating kind of time, and task.

The Associated Press reports that a judge in Alabama has forbidden a mother to take her two-year-old daughter to live in Israel: The country is too dangerous. That is, indeed, a country under siege — perpetually. And no amount of nicey-nice in the West Bank and Gaza would ease that; indeed, it would intensify aggression, as repeatedly proven.

All right, I now have to address the great Democrat/Democratic debate in America. A reader has written me imploring me to say “Democrat party,” “Democrat policy,” and so on, instead of “Democratic.” I am forced to explain that “Democrat” is the noun, “Democratic” the adjective. “Republican” serves as both noun and adjective — which is why we have the confusion, probably. I once heard a caller to C-SPAN say, indignantly, “Why do I have to say ‘Democratic,’ when we don’t say ‘Republicanic’?”

Of course, Republican pols have long liked to use “Democrat” adjectivally. Bob Dole, during the infamous vice-presidential debate of 1976, talked about “Democrat wars.” George W. Bush says “Democrat” in that same way: “I got many friends in the Democrat party.” Basically, wherever there are goobers or Republican mischief-makers, there will be “Democrat” as an adjective.

The idea is that democratic is a good thing to be, and Democrats shouldn’t apply this term to their awful selves. Well, republican is a good thing to be, too — this nation is a republic — but too few people recognize that these days. We used to speak frequently of “republican virtues” — that’s been somewhat lost.

My fellow right-wingers, if it hurts you to say, or write, “Democratic,” just remember that that’s “Democratic” with a very, very big D — a D right through the ceiling. Because many of the Democrats we encounter are anything but democratic (and some Republicans, it is true, are rather less than strictly republican).

In the previous Impromptus, I wrote something touching about the first Bush, H.W. Or rather, I wrote that I’d been touched by something he said: “I used to be the President, I used to be George Bush. I don’t know who the hell I am anymore.”

I’d like to relate another endearing H.W. moment, this one learned from a well-placed PGA source. It’s the 2000 Presidents Cup (a biennial international golf event). Bush introduces himself to a U.S. player, saying, “Hi, I’m George Bush. I don’t know if you remember me, but we met years ago when you were an amateur.” The player says, “Oh, of course I remember you, Mr. President.” H.W. says, “Well, I wasn’t sure — I was only vice president then.” And Bush appeared to have meant it.

That’s my H.W., another great wartime leader (by the way).

It’s been a tough couple of weeks for two of the greatest cuties of our times: Winona Ryder and Olga Korbut (cutie circa 1972). Winona is battling shoplifting — actually, grand-theft — charges in L.A.; Olga is facing them in the Atlanta area. Is there something about world-historic cuteness and theft? (Back when I was in college, when I said something . . . er, admiring about Winona Ryder, a friend of mine, who also liked her, and claimed to have liked her first, said, “Hey, stop cheating on me with Winona!” He is a very fine wit.)

Speaking of the ’72 Olympics, it’s a toss-up as to who was cuter: Olga Korbut or Cathy Rigby. But in Montreal came Nadia, blowing them all out of the water. (I know this is Winter Olympics season, but I’ll be talking about them soon enough.)

Are you a politician? If so, have you ever been the target of a headline like this? This is from the Feb. 2 New York Times: “Bloomberg Hires 2 Relatives and Jokes About Layoffs.” You don’t have to be a Bill Kristol-level political analyst to know that that’s a bad headline, folks. And the headline-writer must have known it!

The “pro-aborts” are squawking about the Bush administration’s decision to classify unborn children as unborn children for the purpose of prenatal care. The pro-abortion forces are in an impossible position: They have to pretend that what everyone really knows to be true is, in fact, not true — that unborn children are, come to think of it, unborn children. Do useless blobs of protoplasm have need of this kind of care? I almost feel sorry for Kate Michelman.

One of the most interesting people I knew in college is the only person I’ve ever met who acknowledged that abortion was the killing of an unborn child but favored its legalization anyway. I wasn’t quite sure whether to admire him (for his honesty) or deplore him (for his position). I’m still not sure.

And now, Mr. Castro. The kids on “Semester at Sea” had a nice four-hour meeting with him. They cheered him, trembled in awe before him. Their professors swooned. One student asked for a hug — you’ll be relieved to know that Castro agreed. He said, “During these 43 years of revolution, hate was never instilled against the United States. The United States was never blamed for our difficulties . . . Never. That is why I dare say that perhaps no other country treats U.S. citizens with more hospitality than Cuba. We have tried to instill ideas, not fanaticism; wisdom, not hate. We have tried to educate, not incite prejudice or hate — that could only lead to war and tragedy.”

Castro is not only a murderer, a torturer, and an oppressor, he is a fantastic liar. And the kids and their profs, of course, lapped it up.

Then too, the (outgoing) Republican governor of Illinois, George Ryan, went down to Havana for some more dictatorship-love. He certainly didn’t rub shoulders with any democrats, any oppositionists, any regular Cubans. In fact, like most Americans, he stayed at a hotel — the Varadero — that bans Cubans. No Cuban is allowed to stay as a guest there, and no Cuban is allowed on the premises, except for some strictly screened workers. This is the system of apartheid there: The Castro-seekers never have to meet anyone who has anything “dangerous” to say about the regime. Nice going, Gov. You jackass.

An Indian friend of mine remembers the signs that used to appear in colonial India — at country clubs, for example — saying, “No dogs or Indians allowed.” Liberals, quite rightly, hated that. Why don’t they hate it in Cuba? Oh, I know.

Have a nice day, y’all.