Last One, I promise
[I know the State of the Union is important (Bush is on a mini-roll), but here's a last look at the Saga of Cody.]
The case looked grim. It was Tuesday afternoon, and the euphoria of the Iraq elections had not yet worn off (at least not among those who think a democratic Iraq is a good idea). Then the Associated Press, monitoring a Web site where Islamic militants often post, discovered an account of a U.S. soldier kidnapped by militants in Iraq.
There was even a photo of a dark-skinned figure in desert fatigues, seated on the ground, staring stiffly ahead, with a gun pointed at his head and an Islamic banner in the background. AP ran the story. And it ran the picture.
But to some people who saw it, something wasn't right. The man's head looked kind of small, for one. And the gun pointing at him was a U.S. military rifle, not the terrorists' trademark AK-47. And no hand was visible holding it. And the soldier's vest bore no resemblance to anything issued in the U.S. military. The U.S. brass, meanwhile, said it wasn't aware of anybody missing.
Yet for two and a half hours the story sat atop the news budget of the biggest provider of media service in the U.S. Finally, someone stepped forward who could identify the soldier. To be precise, a toy-maker identified it as one of his military action figures, originally produced for sale at U.S. bases in Kuwait. It was a foot-tall G.I. Joe-type doll, a black version of its "Cody" action figure. The desert fatigues, the vest and even the gun in the photo are just like the ones that come in the box with "Cody."
By mid-afternoon, AP had pulled its reporter off the story and slunk away from it. But before the day was done, as Confederate Yankee notes, Americans had won a small but important victory in the long struggle to recover from the psychological devastation of Sept. 11, 2001. For perhaps the first time, we all had a laugh at the terrorists.
It reminds me of the moment in 1968 when a Jewish former U.S. Army corporal who had fought in North Africa in World War II released "The Producers." Mel Brooks' timing was perfect: just far enough removed from the horrors to let out a belly-laugh at them. America in 1968 was a place where many of Europe's victims had fled to start life over. Like the Czech Jewish couple my parents befriended in Las Vegas -- childless because of what had been done to her in the camps -- many of them had neat numbers tattooed in blue-green on their forearms. It seems to me the climax of Brooks' production-within-a-production is in the looks on the faces of the people in the theater audience when they realize they're watching a musical comedy about Hitler.
Mel Brooks, the lowbrow Catskill vaudevillian, coming from the side of history where people have numbers tattooed on their arms, slowly re-sewed the most broken-off bits of the 20th century human experience back into the body of all of us.
***
Meanwhile, thanks to inside sources, "Done With Mirrors" brings you for the first time the gripping, fake-but-accurate outcome of the "Cody" kidnapping.
While thousands of McDonaldland Happymeal prize characters picketed the White House with signs reading "not in our name" and "no plastic for oil," Mr. Potatohead rolled up to the Senate podium and denounced the President for leading the nation into a quagmire.
But even as he spoke, a toy Hess helicopter, piloted by venerable G.I. Joe, hovered over the insurgents' refrigerator-box hideaway in Mosul. A team of sluttily dressed ninja Bratz dolls rappelled into the compound, freed Cody, and spirited him to safety.
However, the next day, a dusty Jar-Jar Binks figurine popped his head up from the bargain bin at Wal-Mart and said, "I question the timing."
The case looked grim. It was Tuesday afternoon, and the euphoria of the Iraq elections had not yet worn off (at least not among those who think a democratic Iraq is a good idea). Then the Associated Press, monitoring a Web site where Islamic militants often post, discovered an account of a U.S. soldier kidnapped by militants in Iraq.
There was even a photo of a dark-skinned figure in desert fatigues, seated on the ground, staring stiffly ahead, with a gun pointed at his head and an Islamic banner in the background. AP ran the story. And it ran the picture.
But to some people who saw it, something wasn't right. The man's head looked kind of small, for one. And the gun pointing at him was a U.S. military rifle, not the terrorists' trademark AK-47. And no hand was visible holding it. And the soldier's vest bore no resemblance to anything issued in the U.S. military. The U.S. brass, meanwhile, said it wasn't aware of anybody missing.
Yet for two and a half hours the story sat atop the news budget of the biggest provider of media service in the U.S. Finally, someone stepped forward who could identify the soldier. To be precise, a toy-maker identified it as one of his military action figures, originally produced for sale at U.S. bases in Kuwait. It was a foot-tall G.I. Joe-type doll, a black version of its "Cody" action figure. The desert fatigues, the vest and even the gun in the photo are just like the ones that come in the box with "Cody."
By mid-afternoon, AP had pulled its reporter off the story and slunk away from it. But before the day was done, as Confederate Yankee notes, Americans had won a small but important victory in the long struggle to recover from the psychological devastation of Sept. 11, 2001. For perhaps the first time, we all had a laugh at the terrorists.
It reminds me of the moment in 1968 when a Jewish former U.S. Army corporal who had fought in North Africa in World War II released "The Producers." Mel Brooks' timing was perfect: just far enough removed from the horrors to let out a belly-laugh at them. America in 1968 was a place where many of Europe's victims had fled to start life over. Like the Czech Jewish couple my parents befriended in Las Vegas -- childless because of what had been done to her in the camps -- many of them had neat numbers tattooed in blue-green on their forearms. It seems to me the climax of Brooks' production-within-a-production is in the looks on the faces of the people in the theater audience when they realize they're watching a musical comedy about Hitler.
Mel Brooks, the lowbrow Catskill vaudevillian, coming from the side of history where people have numbers tattooed on their arms, slowly re-sewed the most broken-off bits of the 20th century human experience back into the body of all of us.
***
Meanwhile, thanks to inside sources, "Done With Mirrors" brings you for the first time the gripping, fake-but-accurate outcome of the "Cody" kidnapping.
While thousands of McDonaldland Happymeal prize characters picketed the White House with signs reading "not in our name" and "no plastic for oil," Mr. Potatohead rolled up to the Senate podium and denounced the President for leading the nation into a quagmire.
But even as he spoke, a toy Hess helicopter, piloted by venerable G.I. Joe, hovered over the insurgents' refrigerator-box hideaway in Mosul. A team of sluttily dressed ninja Bratz dolls rappelled into the compound, freed Cody, and spirited him to safety.
However, the next day, a dusty Jar-Jar Binks figurine popped his head up from the bargain bin at Wal-Mart and said, "I question the timing."
