The Nossiter Net
The net that shall enmesh them all
Edited, Written, and Published by Josh Nossiter
Making Mojo
Monday, May 1st, 2006
The Nossiter Net is cast  to snare some of  the riper rascalities of the day.  Comments?  editor@nossiter.net
On government-approved Fox television on Sunday, new White House Chief of Staff Josh Bolton announced that the White House has to get its “mojo back.”*

Though you won’t find the word ‘mojo’ in the Oxford Universal Dictionary (at least in my prized 1955 edition), we all know what Bolton means.  And no, it’s got nothing to do with West African amulets or magic charms, the definition in the current American Heritage.  Please.  We’ve all seen Austin Powers, and we know mojo.  Though indicating another portion of his anatomy, Bolton’s meaning is as plain as the nose on his face:  The White House pencil has no lead.  The administration cannot be upstanding of its own volition.  The central pillar of government is not firm.  The shaft of governance is bent.

For a man who dated Bo Derek, speaking for an administration bristling with prideful maleness since taking office, this is a very serious condition.  We know there was no such dysfunction in the past.  Who can forget president Bush bellowing through a megaphone atop the smoldering rubble of the World Trade Center, or strutting in form-fitting flight suit across the deck of the U.S.S. Abraham Lincoln, or manfully challenging Iraqi insurgents to “bring it on”?  Whether attacking brush, chainsaw in hand, or powering his mountain bike up steep hills, or showing off his hand-tooled snakeskin cowboy boots, Mr. Bush has always epitomized the surging virility of the wild western male – at least until Brokeback Mountain opened. 

Now that we are far from the sappy springtime of his administration, with Mr. Bush’s own top aide bemoaning a lack of mojo, can it be long before the president himself starts limply talking about malaise?  Providing of course he learns to pronounce the word.  Yes, there are the obvious remedies, available from any pharmacy, and surely known to the administration.  No televised sporting event passes without a barrage of ads for them, and we know Mr. Bush is a big sports fan.  But their efficacy is simply too private for the administration’s purposes.  This is especially true given Attorney General Alberto Gonzales’ hard line on blue movies.

There is only one sure proof of potency at the government level: to fight, and win, a war.  With this truth in mind, leading neo-conservative journals are sounding the clarion call of conflict, whipping themselves into frenzies of martial fervor.  Their goal:  a massive attack on Iran.  Only by piercing the nuclear core of that unruly regime, argue the neocons, can we prove to the world that American manhood is everything it’s cracked up to be.

The neocons have a point, but as this page has argued before, Iran is not the right target (see
A River Runs Through It.)  In that earlier screed, we suggested alternatives, like Grenada, or San Marino.  The former is a proven foe, whom we’ve already bested in battle.  The latter could be obliterated at little cost in treasure or American life.  Neither of those suggestions appealed to the fevered neocon imagination.  Those two countries are rather small, and for a good neo-conservative, size really does matter.

So let’s take on somebody our own size.  A populous, advanced nation, technologically our equal, with its own mighty army, air force, and navy.  An opponent we’ve clashed with before, and who once very rudely conquered Maine and burned down Washington, D.C.  Yes, let’s declare war on what President Bush calls the Great British.  Unlike an attack on Iran, anticipated daily by that government, against the British we retain the element of surprise.  Besides, we’ve already beaten them twice, in 1783 and 1812.  And what with our fumble in Iraq, and where this administration’s fragile mojo is concerned, we just can’t afford to take any chances on another unknown foe.

* http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,193722,00.html.

©Joshua C. Nossiter, 2006
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