February 11, 2004, 9:12 a.m.
Short hair/long hair; thrilling to 9/11; Horatio Alger at the Met — and more

Funny about those photos of Kerry in the Vietnam era. For most of our lives, we've been seeing photos of Kerry the Protester — the guy who threw away his medals (or pretended to); the guy who denounced the war as immoral, unconscionable, etc. Now we're seeing lots of photos of a clean-cut Kerry, proudly serving.

And yet what should be at least as important as his service is what he said about his fellow servicemen. For details, please see Mac Owens's vital piece in the current NR. One day, they're baby-killers; the next day they're eagles.

(I will save a discussion of the Left's shifting views of baby-killing for another time.)

Also: George W. Bush is supposed to be terribly, terribly disadvantaged by the fact that he merely flew jets in the Guard while Kerry was in 'nam itself. I don't recall — maybe you do — that it was terribly, terribly important that Bob Dole had served in war (and been gravely injured) while Bill Clinton had dodged.

That's maybe an old Republican talking point by now — but it still resonates, and the whole thing sticks in one's craw. Or at least mine (speaking, in part, as an old Dole intern).

CNN has now expressed remorse for "overplaying" the infamous Dean Scream. Don't wait up nights for bouts of conscience about how the network has treated conservatives. Or is it right-wing bellyaching to make such a crack?!

Since I'm all Mary Sunshine today, let me relate to you a squib from the Jerusalem Post: "A music video glorifying Osama bin Laden and containing images of the September 11 attacks has become a big hit among Britain's young Muslims . . ." One man said, "It's selling everywhere. Everyone I meet at the mosque is asking for it."

Two, four, six, eight, everyone assimilate. Faster, please (as a great man once said).

Legendary New York liberal Jack Newfield writes a column in the New York Sun, and you may enjoy what he said yesterday about Al Sharpton: "In his mind, Rev. Sharpton is running against Rev. Jackson, not President Bush. He owes Rev. Jackson a concession speech." Wish I had thought of/written that.

Also, "Rev. Sharpton often says he comes out of 'The House of King,' in an effort to identify himself with Martin Luther King and the glory of the civil rights movement. But, more accurately, Rev. Sharpton comes out of the house of Don King, his mentor in hustling grandiosity."

Finally, "Dr. King had God's love for humankind. There is no love in Al Sharpton. Dr. King spoke 'truth to power,' but the truth is not in Rev. Al."

Fine, fine — though harsh — but doesn't "humankind" make you go ugh? There is nothing sex-specific, dear ones, about "mankind." (Or "man"!)

Whatever we may think of Al Sharpton, he has indubitably the loveliest press spokesman in the business, Rachel Noerdlinger. The Reverend's high regard for her almost redeems him.

You may have read that Joseph Volpe has announced his retirement as general manager of the Metropolitan Opera. Volpe is one of the great Horatio Alger stories in contemporary America. Let me explain: He began as a carpenter at the Met (hang on, didn't someone else begin as a carpenter? Never mind) — and he rose to GM. That's not bad, folks.

Irascible, blunt, a bit autocratic, original, he is either loved or loathed. I lean toward the love side. I don't lean: I'm sort of camped out there. Late last year, I interviewed him for a piece that appears in the current New Criterion. (It concerns the future of American musical institutions.) I don't know of a more candid, more engaging, more entertaining interview than Volpe.

And many of those who griped about him while he reigned will miss him — sorely — when he's gone. Such is the human animal, I guess.

Incidentally, The New Criterion has on its site a speech I gave in Steinway Hall (New York) last November. It's on music criticism — what it is to be a critic (or at least my conception of the role). Following this speech, Bill Buckley interviewed me in a one-time-only revival of the Firing Line format. Was kind of a kick. Sorry you missed it! (And a bit of a social write-up is here.)

The New York Post reports that six dog lovers were removed from the jury pool of the Jayson Williams trial. Williams is the basketball player who shoots dogs as well as people. But if dog-loving is a disqualification from serving on that jury — I shudder to think that anyone's left!

You heard the latest from my boy Dennis Kucinich? "My entourage consists of the solitude of my conscience and the sanctity of my integrity. . . . I'm not out to impress anybody."

Oh, but he impresses me, with his extraordinary self-love. He reminds me of an expression I learned from my uncle: He'll die in his own arms.

A Wall Street Journal editorial yesterday carried this arresting headline: "Bush Spanks Fannie" (about the president's approach to "Fannie Mae" and "Freddie Mac"). Naughty, Paul, naughty. But I like it. And very British!

Care for a little language? Well, let's do some anyway. At least once in this column I've mentioned the distinction — or maybe I should say former distinction — between "anxious" and "eager." They're now pretty much taken to be synonymous. But "anxious" used to mean . . . well, full of anxiety. And eager was eager. To be super-strict about it, "I'm anxious to see you" means "I'm nervous about seeing you."

Anyhoo, the Wall Street Journal's wonderful and indispensable Mary O'Grady writes, "Now and then rumors surface that Fidel Castro is not in the best health — that he is even at death's door. Only last month the Miami Herald reported that such a rumor was buzzing through South Florida, 'with anxious callers inundating police departments, media outlets and exile groups.'

"'Anxious' here probably means 'eager.'"

Nice, Mary!

Yesterday at a New York Philharmonic press luncheon, Maestro Lorin Maazel went through the orchestra's 2004-05 schedule. Of a Sibelius symphony (to be led by a guest conductor), he said, "That's a work I would have loved to do" . . . and then, unfortunately, he "corrected" himself, saying, "That's a work I would have loved to have done."

No, no, no! His instinct was absolutely correct! But he let the world's ingrained error upend him. A work I'd love to have done or a work I would have loved to do — either would have been great. But not the dread would have loved to have, which means something else, rarely applying.

In a book review appearing in this week's New Republic, we find, ". . . [McCarthy] catapulted himself onto the national stage in Wheeling, West Virginia charging that the Truman administration . . ." Friends, I'll give up a lot — a lot — before I give up the comma that goes after "West Virginia." "The January 29, 1998, memo," "the Acme, Inc., CEO," etc.

Ah, speaking of Wheeling, West Virginia: I've written before about my love of the W.V. Northern Panhandle, and the Ohio Valley generally, with its distinctive speech.

A reader writes, "Despite our costly educations, my wife and I use 'yunz' [the plural "you": "you ones"] frequently. The word is used so pervasively in this area that the inhabitants are referred to as 'yunzers.' [Who didn't know that, Homer?] Some of our words, however, have not spread outside this region. My brilliant wife (who is also lovely, by the way) insists on saying 'slippy' when describing a slick surface. She is not alone. Many of the Pittsburgh natives in my law-school class spoke of 'slippy-slope' arguments, not 'slippery-slope' ones. I'm sorry that the word hasn't spread. It's so charming, at least when my wife uses it!"

Be cool, yunz.

Oh, one more thing: In a recent column, I said something about Cuba's apartheid — the separatist policies it imposes — and then cracked, "But then, we're not supposed to speak of apartheid, outside the context of South Africa" (or something like that).

And many readers wrote to say, "You forgot Israel" — to which I can only say, "D'oh!"

Later.