NYT columnists ponder world affairs — and those red trees in the White House
And if I go on I will wind up once again pointing out that the worst possible approach is the one the president is taking — overturning the existing anti-warming regulations and shrugging his shoulders as if the whole issue was slightly less important than the weekend golfing schedule.
We spend a lot of time jointly beating up on Trump: Is there anything he’s doing that you’d want to praise with a little holiday-season cheer?
Bret: Let me think ...
... thinking
... thinking.
Ah, OK. Well, he didn’t completely wreck free trade this week, though the new NAFTA is worse than the old one and it isn’t clear it can get congressional approval. So I guess I’m mildly cheered that he has almost prevented a disaster he needlessly caused.
What about you? Anything to like?
Gail: Well ... I do appreciate he doesn’t come back to New York for weekends any more. We’ve got enough traffic jams from the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree. Speaking of trees, I have to admit I’ve never been more fascinated with White House holiday decorations than this year. Those blood-red pseudo-firs are truly memorable. And sort of perfect for an administration that so frequently makes the nation go, “Yipes!”
Bret: This is the new third-rail of American politics: Melania. And Melania’s taste. For reasons I don’t quite get, liberals and conservatives seem to have made some kind of tacit pact not to criticize her or her choices as first lady. They weren’t so kind to Hillary Clinton.
But here goes: that was the tackiest White House Christmas display ever. Of all time. It looked to me as if Derek Zoolander had been brought in as style consultant. And that he, in turn, had subcontracted the task to Imelda Marcos. It looked like a staging for an avant-garde version of Federico García Lorca’s “Bodas de Sangre.” It looked — if looks could sing — as if “White Christmas” were being performed by Ozzy Osbourne just as he bit the head off a bat. It looked as if John Bolton had been chosen to perform an exorcism, sadly not on the president.
Otherwise: pure class!
Gail: OK, that is the best interior decorating critique of the year.
On the Trump plus side, the National Football League will be happy to know that, thanks to the president, I have developed a modest affection for professional sports. You have to live in Trumpland all week, but on the weekends you can turn it all off and watch people tossing balls around. You go to a party and rather than depressing everybody with talk of the latest tweets, you can just say “Hey, how about those Giants?” Or Rams or Bears or whatever animal mascot you like.
Bret: Poor Bears. Shoulda beaten the Giants on Sunday.