Bush Gropes, Planet Cringes
Knead a German chancellor, banter dumbly, reveal global ignorance. It's Dubya abroad!
- By Mark Morford, SF Gate Columnist
Wednesday, July 19, 2006

So now we know.

I mean, we sort of thought we knew, before, what kind of guy George W. Bush is, essentially our very own inept, inarticulate ex-alcoholic ex-frat-guy failed-businessman pseudo-leader who famously appeals to the most God-fearin' and least educated and least attuned among us because he is, well, one of them.

We thought we had him pegged: Just a casual and aw-shucks sort of walkin', talkin', war-happy embarrassment to the country who was rumored to be a Genuinely Nice Guy in person but who, when he traveled abroad, nevertheless caused the entire nation to pre-emptively cringe in preparation for all sorts of imminent humiliations and lots of hilarious-yet-excruciating new material for "The Complete Bushisms."

But every so often we get a glimpse of just a little more. Or, rather, less. Of what lies just beneath that carefully controlled sheen of White House spin, what happens when Dubya is away from his handlers and his prefab scripts. We get a hint of just what fuels that clueless amble, that Chosen One bumble, that graceless and decidedly dorky sort of approach to everything from ordering a Diet Coke to comprehending Middle East chaos.

Witness, won't you, the latest in a huge pile of embarrassing Bush-on-tape moments. (Warning: Not for the faint of intellect.)

Here he is, the leader of the Free World, fresh off being caught on a live microphone at the Group of Eight summit meeting muttering to his favorite poodle Tony Blair, using his bestest Texas-boy shtick, that if them gul-dang Syrians would just tell Hezbollah to knock this s-- off, everything would be dandy ...

Here is the president of the most powerful nation on the planet, fresh from an awkward smackdown by Vladimir Putin on Bush's failed war in Iraq, muttering to Blair and Chinese President Hu Jintao, actually more amazed and confounded by the fact that Jintao's flight home takes about as long as Bush's to Washington ...

(Bush: "You eight hours? Me too. Russia's a big country and you're a big country. Takes him eight hours to fly home ... Russia's big and so is China. Yo Blair, what're you doing? Are you leaving?" Ah, dumb-guy banter. Makes you feel proud all over, no?)

And now, the icing on the giant cake o' domestic torture. Here is Dubya, strolling speedily into a G-8 summit meeting where powerful, intent world leaders are already gathered to discuss, presumably, serious issues of the day, walking straight up to a seated German Chancellor Angela Merkel and giving her a weird, unsolicited shoulder rub from behind, before dashing to his seat. Oh yes he did.

The pictures, the video reveal all. Merkel reacts accordingly, is instantly creeped out, cringes and shrugs Bush away with a look of surprised revulsion.

Dubya is, of course, oblivious. His expression is his classic blank "Who, me?" stare that recalls a child caught eating a live grasshopper. He looks right past Merkel and quickly dashes away as though nothing had happened, as if the powerful German leader didn't just recoil visibly at his very touch.

It all happens in about four seconds. It is merely, on the surface, a minor infraction, a stupid gesture, a "what-the-hell?" moment you want to forget immediately but is unfortunately burned into your retina like a flaming spear of oh-please-God-no. And it speaks volumes.

Let us imagine how it would be if, say, Jacques Chirac walked up behind Condi Rice and gave her a quick little noogie on the head, on camera, before a fancy state dinner. Or maybe if Japanese Prime Minister Koizumi snuck up behind Laura Bush and gave a hearty, unexpected smack on the ass before sitting down for a chat. How charming! Or, you know, not.

Some might argue that Merkel, despite the obvious recoil, actually smiles a little after Bush grabs her (it is a little difficult to tell if it's a wince or an awkward smirk -- either way, she was more than a little shocked).

Some might even suggest that Merkel and Bush have a "special" sort of odd, chummy relationship that allows him to toy with her like a kid sister or a flirty high school buddy, the kind of relationship that Bush likes best of all: devoid of seriousness or deep respect or the crucial exchange of ideas, free of that kind of icky intellectual book-learnin' that just confuses Dubya and makes him all tired and sad. And hey, maybe they're right.

Then again, this was a G-8 summit. Israel and Lebanon are burning. Iraq is in tatters. North Korea is spitting on the world. Global leaders are gathered to discuss the most pressing and violent issues on the planet, many of which the Bush administration had a clammy hand in exacerbating. Might not be the best time for the leader of the free world to give a cheesy frat-guy neck rub to his German gal-pal in front of the world media. You think?

See, now we get it. This is the bottom line, the final truth, George W. Bush in a nutshell. Bush thinks he is That Guy. The one everybody just loves to have around, the one who sincerely thinks his goofy charm is so appealing and so innocuous and so licky-puppy friendly that he can get away with all sorts of casual infractions and weird gestures no one else would care to attempt lest they appear, you know, dorky as a pinwheel hat.

And you know what? Bush really is That Guy. Just not in the way he wants to think.

In other words, he is indeed That Guy, like the best man at the wedding party, the one standing out in the center of the room, casually and cluelessly telling off-color jokes that offend everyone but which he thinks are gul-dang hilarious and, hell, if you're offended then you're just some gul-dang hippie liberal. Haw.

He is That Guy. The one who thinks he is everybody's bestest pal, the guy everyone wants to kick back with and have a few brewskies and chat about baseball and lawn fertilizer and Jesus. After all, isn't that what we all desire of the man who decides some of the most difficult, deadly, complicated issues on the planet? Isn't that slacked, frat-guy goofiness exactly what you want trying to broker peace in the Middle East and understand global warming and stem-cell research? Sure it is.

And when it comes to women (or rather, "wimmin"), well, it's all taken one step further. Or, rather, downward. It's like an awkward scene from "The Office," where Steve Carell's character Michael Scott, the smarmy manager everyone secretly loathes but who himself believes to be the funniest and most likable and naturally gifted guy in the room, walks up to one of his female employees and grabs a mango and cracks a grossly inappropriate joke about vaginas and laughs hard, slaps everyone on the back, and then takes a big, gross bite of the mango. What a kidder!

He does not, of course, realize no one else is laughing.