Here's Slate's latest Bushism of the Day:

I'm honored to shake the hand of a brave Iraqi citizen who had his hand cut off by Saddam Hussein.

Here's the full context — note that Slate persists in refusing to even link to the full statements:

I'm honored to shake the hand of a brave Iraqi citizen who had his hand cut off by Saddam Hussein. I'm with six other Iraqi citizens, as well, who suffered the same fate. They are examples of the brutality of the tyrant.

I am also here with Marvin Zindler, of Houston, Texas. I appreciate Joe Agris, the doctor who helped put these hands on these men; Don North, the documentary producer who made a film of this brutality, which brought the plight of these gentlemen to the attention of Marvin and his foundation. These men had hands restored because of the generosity and love of an American citizen. And I am so proud to welcome them to the Oval Office. . . .

That's right: Bush was holding a ceremony involving several Iraqi men who had their severed hands replaced with high-tech prosthetics. In the course of doing so, he said he was honored to shake hands with one of the men — presumably (I haven't seen the video, but I have no reason to doubt it) while or right after in fact shaking hands with him. Quite possibly the reference to shaking hands was a deliberate way to stress the attempt to make these people as whole as possible. Even if it wasn't deliberate, it was perfectly accurate.

So Bush's statement is an error / humorous gaffe / telling of his supposed inarticulateness because . . .?

UPDATE: A reader writes:

Actually, . . . it was kind of cool. The news clip I saw from the White House showed the president taking hold of the one Iraqi man's new prosthetic hand and shaking it. Not just a statement, then, but a real action with meaning. From what limited contact I have had with folks who either have a prosthetic limb or use a wheelchair, it is the recognition of the aid (as opposed to the studied avoidance of contact or acknowledgement of the aid) that means the most. I suppose it is because the new limb (or other aid) is now as much a part of the person as those limbs they were born with, so other people's acknowledgement that the prosthetic is there, is recognition of the whole person.

FURTHER UPDATE: Thanks to reader Stuart Sechrist, here's a photo of the handshake, on the USA Today site:

In today's Slate:

"I believe that, as quickly as possible, young cows ought to be allowed go across our border." — Ottawa, Nov. 30, 2004

Now this one just puzzles me. Here's the relevant excerpt from the transcript. Bush was apparently responding to a question about the importation of beef from Canada to the U.S. (I can't quote the question, because it isn't included in the transcript, presumably because it's in French):

Look, the prime minister has expressed a great deal of frustration that the issue hadn't been resolved yet. And I can understand his level of frustration. There's a series of regulations that are required by U.S. law, and the latest step has been that the Agriculture Department sent over some proposed regulations to handle this issue to what's called the Office of Management and Budget. It's a part of my office.

I have sent word over that they need to expedite that request as quickly as possible.

I fully understand the cattle business. I understand the pressures placed upon Canadian ranchers. I believe that, as quickly as possible, young cows ought to be allowed to go across our border. I understand the integrated nature of the cattle business, and I hope we can get this issue solved as quickly as possible. . . .

What's "Bushist" about this? Is it that "young cows" sounds odd? Apparently it's a common industry term (see, e.g., "Management of Young Cows for Maximum Reproductive Performance," noted on a USDA site). Is it that it sounds stilted to talk about allowing the cows to go over the border, as if it's the cows' desire? But this is a pretty standard locution — speaking of goods going places, rather than people shipping goods places — and in context I doubt that it sounded at all odd.

Or is it the omission of the "to" before the "go across the border"? The Washington Post transcript quotes Bush as saying "to go across the border," as do the other sources I've checked. [UPDATE: Reader Russell Steinthal points out that Slate has since inserted the "to," though it was omitted when the item originally went up.]

And why does Slate, an online publication that has long tried hard to take advantage of its online format, persist in failing to providing links to sources that it quotes? Wouldn't it be good if readers could see for themselves how the quote looks in context?

[NOTE: I added the "Or is it" paragraph after this post was originally posted.]

I e-mailed Jacob Weisberg to ask what he thought was Bushist about yesterday's Bushism of the Day, and he graciously responded:

The White House transcript didn't have "to." Hard to know what he actually said, but I'll switch to the Post version to make it more readable. In any case, that is not the joke. I define Bushisms as things Bush says that are funny for whatever reason, not merely mistakes.

Hmm -- that's not how I had understood the series. Here's the start of the Introduction from Weisberg's Bushisms book:

The question I am most frequently asked about the Bushisms series is, "Do you really think the President of the United States is dumb?"

The short answer is yes.

The long answer is yes and no.

Dipping into this volume may leave the impression that George W. Bush is a simple dimwit. . . . If you don't care to pursue the matter any further, that view will serve. . . .

In reality, however, there's more to it. The assemblage of a presidential term's worth of malapropisms, solecisms, gaffes, spoonerisms, and truisms -- drawn together here from the best of Bushisms old and new -- tends to imply that Bush's lack of fluency in English is tantamount to an absence of intelligence. But as we all know from experience, the inarticulate can be shrewd, the fluent fatuous. In Bush's case, the symptoms indicate a specific malady -- some kind of language-skill deficit akin to dyslexia -- that does not indicate a lack of mental capacity per se. . . .

But perhaps the Bushisms column has a broader mandate than the Bushisms book, or both are meant to be a mix not just of "malapropisms, solecisms, gaffes, spoonerisms, and truisms" -- which are either mistakes (the first four) or vacuousness, which one might think of as a substantive mistake -- but also just things that are "funny for whatever reason."

Still, isn't this line funny largely because it is taken out of context? Would it really be that funny if read with the surrounding lines, as I quote them above, and understanding that it was a response to a question about beef import policy?

And in any event, might it not be better for the Bushisms column to include links to the transcripts, so that readers can see for themselves what the context might be (especially if they assume that most Bushisms are indeed "malapropisms, solecisms, gaffes, spoonerisms, and truisms" rather than just "funny for whatever reason")?

"I always jest to people, the Oval Office is the kind of place where people stand outside, they're getting ready to come in and tell me what for, and they walk in and get overwhelmed by the atmosphere. And they say 'man, you're looking pretty.'" —Washington, D.C., Nov. 4, 2004"

QUESTION: (OFF-MIKE)

BUSH: Learn and not learn about the Cabinet?

QUESTION: (OFF-MIKE)

BUSH: . . .

This is a job that requires crisp decision-making, and therefore, in order for me to make decisions, I've got to have people who bring, you know, their point of view into the Oval Office and are willing to say it.

I always jest to people: The Oval Office is the kind of place where people stand outside, they're getting ready to come in and tell me what-for, and they walk in and get overwhelmed by the atmosphere and they say, Man, you're looking pretty.

Therefore, you need people to walk in on those days when you're not looking so good and saying, You're not looking so good, Mr. President. . . .

What exactly is there that's remotely mockable about this? I report, you decide.

Incidentally, people occasionally fault my criticisms of the Bushisms. "They're just a joke," they say. Well, they are attempts at humor — but they are attempts at humor that criticizes Bush. (See the Introduction to the Bushisms book, excerpted here.) If you're going to criticize someone, it seems to me that you should do it fairly and aptly. Many of the Bushisms strike me as unfair and inapt, which is why I comment on them.

Finally, someone suggested that this is petty nitpicking on my part, and that I should move on to more important things. I offer a deal: If Slate stops its petty nitpicking of Bush — and nitpicking which strikes me as often incorrect — I'll stop my petty nitpicking of Slate.

Here's today's item:

"We need to apply 21st-century information technology to the health care field. We need to have our medical records put on the I.T."—Collinsville, Ill., Jan. 5, 2005

Here's the link that Slate provides to the President's full speech, so readers can get some context:

Oh, wait, Slate, one of the leading online journals, doesn't actually provide links to the full speech, even when it's on the Web, and even when curious readers might want to know how the quote looks in context. But we at the Conspiracy deliver what Slate doesn't; here's the link.

In any case, what exactly is "Bushistic" about the quote? "I.T." stands for "information technology," in this case presumably computers, networking, and the like — a subset of one definition of "technology," which is "Electronic or digital products and systems considered as a group." I can't say that "We need to have our medical records put on the [information technology]" is the most eloquent phrase in the English language. Maybe it's something of a slip — "put on the technology" is not quite idiomatic, though it's clearly understandable, and probably technically correct given the definition I quoted. And in context, it seems to be an ordinary, if bland, part of an ordinary if bland political speech:

To improve health care in America, we need to expand the use of health savings accounts. (Applause.) It's a product that lets you save tax-free for routine medical care while keeping affordable coverage against major illness. Small businesses must be allowed to join together, to pool risk, so they can buy insurance for their employees at the same discounts that big businesses are able to do. (Applause.)

To address the cost of medical care, we need to apply 21st century information technology to the health care field. We need to have our medical records put on the IT. We need to make sure that we speed up the delivery and arrival of cheaper generic drugs to help control costs. We want to make sure our Medicare system still allows seniors to have choice in the system.

Look, I've got to admit: Some Bushisms (e.g., "misunderestimated") are funny and somewhat unusual malapropisms. But "We need to apply 21st-century information technology to the health care field. We need to have our medical records put on the I.T."? Is that funny? To the extent that it's misspeaking, is it particularly uncommon and noteworthy? (As I've mentioned before, I hate to read transcripts of my own presentations, because they often have grammatical and word choice lapses — and I think that's true for the overwhelming majority of all people, including the educated and intelligent.)

And, to get back on my hobbyhorse, when Slate is trying to make a big deal out of a quote, why not include a link back to the quote so that readers can see it and its context for themselves?

We also provide the links, because Slate — leading online journal that it is — doesn't.

Here's Slate's Bushism of the Day for today:

"I want to appreciate those of you who wear our nation's uniform for your sacrifice."—Jacksonville, Fla., Jan. 14, 2005

I take it the supposed humor comes from the ambiguity of "sacrifice": Bush was obviously expressing his appreciation of soldiers, because of their sacrifice. (A bit clunky — "thank" would have been better — but "appreciate" is hardly risible here.) But it might also sound to some people like he's appreciating their wearing a uniform to their sacrifice, which brings up visions of "sacrifice" in the sense of "human sacrifice" and death. Maybe I'm wrong, but it seems to me like the only quibble that Slate can have with Bush's line, unless they're trying to make something out of the substitution of "I want to appreciate" for "I want to thank."

OK, here's the context:

[W]e've got a lot on the agenda. Obviously, winning the war on terror is still on my mind. And I want to appreciate those of you who wear our nation's uniform for your sacrifice and for joining our great country's cause of freedom. (Applause.)

Even setting aside the applause, does this sentence really look that silly in context? Or silly at all?

If you think it does look silly, then you wouldn't fault Slate for omitting the context. But if I'm right that most people would find the quote to be much more sensible in context than out of context, then is the Slate excerpt really fair? Yes, it's humor, but it's a humorous dig that's meant to make a serious statement. The question is whether it makes the statement fairly or not.

UPDATE: Several people suggested that Slate is trying to make fun of the "I want to appreciate" -- Bush, the theory goes, is saying that he doesn't really appreciate the soldiers, but just wants to appreciate them. That strikes me as a pretty weak quibble. "Want to" is a pretty commonplace empty filler; "I want to thank" equals "I thank," "I want to suggest" equals "I suggest," "I want to say that . . ." equals "I say that . . ." which really equals nothing at all. (Naturally, sometimes "I want to" does mean "I want to"; it's generally clear from context whether or not it does.)

Like empty filler generally, it isn't elegant, but it hardly seems laughable. No-one says "Ha ha ha, he said 'I want to thank,' which means he isn't really thanking, but just wants to do it and for some reason can't." Likewise, I think, for "I want to appreciate" -- a much less common phrase, but clearly an adaptation of the more common "I want to thank."

Slate's Bushism of the Day for today is:

"Listen, the other day I was asked about the National Intelligence Estimate, which is a National Intelligence Estimate." — Washington, D.C., Sep. 23, 2004

Ha ha ha. That President of ours, he's such a doofus. Why would he say "about the National Intelligence Estimate, which is a National Intelligence Estimate"? Hard to believe, but there it is. Or, wait a minute, maybe because it's hard to believe, we should double-check before believing it, no? That is, unless we're so wedded to the "Bush Talks Funny" meme that we've relaxed our normal skepticism and journalistic caution.

Fortunately, reader Jacob Kaufman's skepticism and caution hadn't relaxed, so he found the White House transcript (remember, Slate's Bushism of the Day column never includes pointers to the transcripts). That site happens to have the audio. And the audio, at a little after 30:54, shows that Bush said:

Listen, the other day I was asked about the NIE, which is a National Intelligence Estimate.

Yup, that's right. President Bush used the abbreviation, and then explained what the abbreviation meant. The official transcript erroneously spelled out the abbreviation, though it rendered it in all caps, which — together with the improbability of the President's just saying "the National Intelligence Estimate, which is the National Intelligence Estimate" — might have led a cautious journalist to check into it:

Listen, the other day I was asked about the NATIONAL INTELLIGENCE ESTIMATE, which is a National Intelligence Estimate.

A cautious journalist might also have checked what other sources say. A quick LEXIS search for "Listen, the other day I was asked about the" revealed 10 references, of which 8 contained the term "NIE," and 2 contained "NATIONAL INTELLIGENCE ESTIMATE" (again, in all caps). But apparently the author of the Bushisms column didn't do this check; if he had, then maybe he would have realized that he should try to find the audio, which would have settled the matter.

As I've said before, part of the problem with the Bushisms column is that they often fault the President for things that aren't much worth faulting. But the broader problem is that once a journalist gets into the mindset of "Let me catch Bush misspeaking," it's very easy to start seeing errors where no errors exist. Instead of the normal "Someone says Bush erred, so let's investigate this skeptically" view that journalists should have, the author falls into the habit of assuming that all claimed Bush misstatements are in fact misstatements. And the consequence is screw-ups like this. Shouldn't we expect better from the editor of a leading magazine?

UPDATE: The item is now gone from the Slate table of contents, and its text has been blanked out on the original page; it's to Slate's credit that they so promptly removed the error. I assume Slate will also post another item explicitly acknowledging the error, so that people who read and understandably believed the original item could learn that they'd been misinformed.

It seems to me that this should go both in Slate's Corrections column and as a separate Bushism of the Day item: I take it that many readers who read Bushisms don't regularly look at the Corrections, but will look at the next Bushisms entry. In any event, I take it that Slate will indeed publish an official correction.

To its credit, Slate today published, in its Corrections e-column, the following:

A "Bushism of the Day" item posted on Feb, 10 reported that President Bush said on Sept. 23, 2004, "Listen, the other day I was asked about the National Intelligence Estimate, which is a National Intelligence Estimate." Though this is the version reported in several transcripts, an audiotape of the speech makes clear that Bush's more coherent actual words were, "Listen, the other day I was asked about the NIE, which is a National Intelligence Estimate."

It's to Slate's credit that it promptly published the correction. Yet I wonder: Given the way Slate is organized — and the same goes for some other online journals — wouldn't it be better to post a correction in the same e-column (which is to say under the rubric on the front screen) as the error appeared?

The front screen naturally doesn't indicate exactly what the corrections are. I suspect that many readers don't normally read the Corrections section. So as a result many readers who do habitually read the Bushisms column, and who read yesterday's column, will never learn that what they were told yesterday wasn't actually so.

Am I mistaken? I realize that newspaper tradition is to segregate corrections in a special corrections section. I'm not sure that's right even for print newspapers, but does it really make sense online? Or is it the case that lots of people do read the Corrections section, and that the best way to reach Bushism readers — again, to un-mislead them — is through an entry in Corrections, rather than a new entry in Bushisms?

Slate's Bushism today is:

After all, Europe is America's closest ally.

What's at all funny, odd, or otherwise Bushism-worthy here? There are only two conceivable objections I can imagine here.

1. Bush is talking about "Europe" as an ally instead of particular European countries. Yet Europe, in the sense of the European Union, is indeed an entity of its own. And the European Union is often referred to as Europe.

But of course Bush couldn't have possibly meant Europe in the sense of European Union (or for that matter Europe as a cultural grouping of countries), because . . . . Because why exactly? Because Texans aren't up on modern transnational organizations? Well, let me give you the context, since of course Slate never gives you the context, or even a pointer to the context. (And who can blame it? After all, while Web sites like ours can provide links to the full transcripts, to assure people that the quotes are in context, old-fashioned paper-based media like Slate don't have that luxury. Oh, wait . . . .)

Here's the transcript containing the "Bushism" but also the following sentences:

After all, Europe is America's closest ally. I said yesterday, and I want to say it again: The European project is important to our country. We want it to succeed. And in order for Europe to be a strong, viable partner, Germany must be strong and viable, as well. And in order for us to have good relations with Europe, we must have good relations with Germany. And that is why this trip is an important trip for my country and for me.

And so I want to thank you very much for the chance to be here, a chance to reconfirm the importance of the transatlantic alliance, and a chance to talk about important issues. Gerhard went over the issues; I will go over them briefly, as well. . . .

No Europhile — or for that matter non-Europhile urban articulate sophisticate — could have said it better: Alliance with Europe, the European project, good relations with Europe, transatlantic alliance.

2. The one possible other objection is that our relations with Europe aren't so hot in some respects now. Yet surely saying that Europe is our closest ally is just the time-honored and quite reasonable diplomatic trope of talking about aspirations of friendship as reality. That's only a "Bushism" if "Bushism" means "A statement characterized by excessive diplomacy."

So what's up here? How could the editor of a major publication, a publication that aspires to being seen as witty but thoughtful and credible, mock someone for a perfectly normal statement like this — and mock him with no further explanation and commentary, as if the statement were so obviously silly that no explanation was required?

UPDATE: A reader writes:

Bushism of the Day may be signalling a sea-change in the Left from regarding Bush as stupid stupid stupid to ironic.

Bush's stating that Europe is our closest ally isn't evidence of his inarticulate nature, but perhaps the statement has an ironic value inasmuch as Bush's policies are cause for the recent rift, at least from BOTD's point of view.

Huh -- I hadn't even thought of that, partly because it's so unrelated to what Bushisms have supposedly been about, and what Jacob Weisberg has said they're about, in this Bush-loathing introduction to one of his Bushisms books. So I remain puzzled: What's so "Bushism" about President Bush's clear, grammatically and semantically unobjectionable, and diplomatic statement? Though, hey, if Weisberg wants "Bushism" to come to mean "a clear, grammatically and semantically unbobjectionable, and diplomatic statement," that's fine by me.

Today's Bushism at Slate is:

"The United States and the U.S. stand together in support of the Iraqi people and the new Iraqi government, which will soon come into action." — Brussels, Belgium, Feb. 22, 2005

Except that the transcript (which Slate of course doesn't link to) seems to reveal the broader context to be:

PRESIDENT JUNCKER: Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. . . .

As regards Iraq, we applauded the courage of the Iraqi people and the results of recent Iraqi elections, as far as the out-turn was concerned. We are pursuing our common engagement in Iraq. The United States and the U.S. [sic] stand together in support of the Iraqi people and the new Iraqi government, which will soon come into action. To that end, should the new Iraqi government request it, the United States and European Union are prepared to co-host an international conference to provide a forum to encourage and coordinate international support for Iraq. . . .

I leave this to the President of the U.S.

PRESIDENT BUSH: Mr. Prime Minister, thanks. . . .

Yup, it seems like today's Bushism wasn't said by President Bush, but rather by European Council President Jean-Claude Juncker (who is also the Prime Minister of Luxembourg, hence the honorific that President Bush gave him) — or, I suspect, by the translator. I checked all the transcripts I could find on LEXIS, and none attributed this to Bush; all attributed it to Juncker, except one that attributed to an otherwise unidentified "Scheffer," likely an error.

Am I missing something here? Or is this yet another flub, much like the one on Feb. 10? That one was at least based on an erroneous transcript (though the error could have been caught had someone did a quick search to see what other transcripts said, or listened to the audio file). This one seems to be based on an erroneous reading of the transcript.

Many thanks to two readers, one anonymous and the other Kennan Shelton, who alerted me to this.

UPDATE: Slate has put up a correction at the top of today's Bushism, acknowledging that the statement was made by Juncker. This seemingly happened just a few minutes ago (roughly 3 pm Pacific).

FURTHER UPDATE: Stuart Buck coins the word "Slatenfreude."

YET ANOTHER UPDATE: It turns out that OpinionJournal's Best of the Web had busted Bushisms for exactly the same error a couple of years ago:

[Today's "Bushism of the day"]:

"I would like to express my deep condolences for the loss of the Senate."--Commenting on Sen. Paul Wellstone's death, Crawford, Texas, Oct. 25, 2002

Now, let's go to the transcript, which is of a joint appearance with Bush and China's President Jiang Zemin. It begins with Bush speaking:

Thank you for coming, President Jiang.

PRESIDENT JIANG: Mr. President, ladies and gentlemen. I just learned that one plane crashed. I would like to express my deep condolences for the loss of the Senate. And also I would like to express my condolences to the bereaved family.

Slate's correction is here.

All Related Posts (on one page) | Some Related Posts:

1. Whom Are You Going To Believe -- The Transcript or Your Lying Ears?
2. Bushism of the Day:
3. My Three Suggestions for Improving Slate:...
14. Slatism of the Day.--
15. Today's Bushism:
16. Mysterious Bushism:...
23. Bushism of the Day:
24. Spinsanity criticizes Slate's Bushisms and Kerryisms.
25. Latest Bushism:

I'm very pleased that the Bushisms column has finally started linking to the original source for the alleged Bushism, so that readers can determine for themselves whether the quote is accurate and in context. Still, I can't figure out what the Bushisms author thinks is the problem with today's quote:

"In this job you've got a lot on your plate on a regular basis; you don't have much time to sit around and wander, lonely, in the Oval Office, kind of asking different portraits, 'How do you think my standing will be?'" — Washington, D.C., March 16, 2005

Is the supposed inarticulateness the mild mismatch between "sit around" and "wander," because wandering requires standing, not sitting? I take it that Bush was using "sit around" as partly figurative — when you're asked what you did Sunday, and you say "I sat around the house," your behavior need not have been limited to physical sitting — and partly as one activity in a set of activities: You can spend part of your time sitting around brooding and part wandering lonely, talking to portraits. Is it that he should have said "What do you think my standing will be?" instead of "How?"

Just a bit more context: Bush was asked a question about whether he felt vindicated by recent events; he gave a serious answer, but understandably felt that it would be better if leavened with some impromptu humor. So he told a little off-the-cuff joke, which the audience seemed to like (you can hear laughter, and I doubt that they were laughing at the sit around vs. wander problem on the how vs. what). Articulate, educated, intelligent readers of mine: Are all your extemporaneous jokes marvels of perfect word choice? Friends of Slate writers: Are all their extemporaneous jokes immaculately crafted?

Just what in Bush's quote is deserving of mockery?

UPDATE: Some readers suggested that Bush was actually saying "sit around and wonder" rather than "sit around and wander"; it's possible, but I think he was indeed talking about wandering around the oval office talking to the portraits that are presumably hanging on the wall -- it makes more sense that you'd wander around to talk to them. Other readers suggested that Bush was alluding to Wordsworth's "I wandered lonely as a cloud"; that's also possible. But even if neither theory is correct, my point still stands: There's nothing worth mocking in what Bush was saying.

I'm pleased to mention again that Slate has indeed finally started providing links to original sources — often streaming video and audio, which is especially useful — when it picks on President Bush's alleged Bushisms. That happened, I think, a month or two ago, and it continues to be the case.

But the substance of the Bushisms continues to appear often quibbling and sometimes baffling. Here's today's:

"We expect the states to show us whether or not we're achieving simple objectives — like literacy, literacy in math, the ability to read and write." — on federal education requirements, Washington, D.C., April 28, 2005

What exactly is the problem here? If the joke is that "literacy in math" is wrong, then the error is in the joke, not Bush's statement; "literacy" is defined to include "The condition or quality of being knowledgeable in a particular subject or field." I don't find "literacy in math" to be the most elegant usage, but I don't think it's particularly risible, either. A search for "math literacy" suggests that many others agree. My guess is that the President started saying literacy, then realized he wanted to also mention math, so he used the not uncommon concept of "literacy in math" to make clear that he wasn't just focusing on purely reading-and-writing literacy.

Or maybe the problem is that Bush omitted an "and." Bush's statement can just as plausibly be transcribed (given the timing of the pauses, probably more plausibly transcribed) as:

We expect the states to show us whether or not we're achieving simple objectives, like literacy — literacy in math, the ability to read and write.

Maybe there should have been an "and" between "literacy in math" and "the ability to read and write."

But even perfectly articulate people often speak more choppily than they'd write; and sometimes even in writing, people omit the conjunction in a list for rhetorical effect (though that usually happens in a list of three or more).

And more broadly, very few people can be relied on being constantly elegant, or even constantly grammatically correct, in extended extemporaneous commentary. I like to think that I'm a pretty articulate user of English, but I've shuddered when reading transcripts of what I say. I wager the same is true for many other speakers. What's funny, insightful, or otherwise valuable about picking on Bush for something like this?

UPDATE: A reader suggests: "I suspect that the 'joke' is that Bush listed 3 things: literacy, literacy in math, and literacy, i.e. that he didn't 'realize' that literacy means 'the ability to read and write' and so he listed it twice not realizing that he was, and thus the joke is that he doesn't even know what the word 'literacy' means when calling for others to be taught it." But if that's a joke, that flows from what is likely a mistranscription of Bush's statement. Bush has a short pause before "like literacy," and a long pause after it. The better transcription is thus:

We expect the states to show us whether or not we're achieving simple objectives, like literacy — literacy in math, the ability to read and write.

Even if I'm wrong that this is the better transcription, it's at least as good a transcription. And this transcription suggests that Bush was either saying "literacy" and then listing two aspects of literacy, or (at worst) saying a word, losing his train of thought for a moment, and resuming the statement by repeating the word, something that speakers very often do.

"My thoughts are, we're going to get somebody who knows what they're talking about when it comes to rebuilding cities." -- On how the rebuilding of New Orleans might commence, Biloxi, Miss., Sept. 2, 2005

What's odd, funny, mangled, or at all Bushism-worthy about this quote? Bush was asked how New Orleans should be rebuilt in the long term. That's a difficult and technical question, and one that's not easy to answer right now, especially when one is the President rather than a professional urban planner. So the President gave a perfectly sensible answer, and said that he'll figure out what the experts say. Here's the context (to Slate's credit, they now provide a link to the video, but here I quote the official transcript):

Q Mr. President, I realize the first priority is, obviously, saving lives. But let me ask you about long-term planning in New Orleans. There are some who are starting to say that since we're going to be spending billions in tax dollars to rebuild that great city, that we might want to think about building it in such a way where it's not below sea level again, whether it's somehow moved around or relocated or moved up. What are your thoughts on that?

THE PRESIDENT: My thoughts are, we're going to get somebody who knows what they're talking about when it comes to rebuilding cities. I'm going to delegate. I'm going to call upon the best experts, starting with the people of New Orleans, and get opinions as we work with the local folks. We're going to help people rebuild, Stretch. That's what we're going to do. And we're going to listen to people who know what they're doing. . . .

Why is this worth mockery or condemnation (presumably the main theme of Bushisms, as the column's compiler himself seems to suggest)?

A while back, Slate's Bushism of the Day started providing links so that readers could see the context surround the quote. Unfortunately, they didn't do it with today's item:

"Those who enter the country illegally violate the law." -- Tucson, Ariz., Nov. 28, 2005

I'm pleased, though, to step in and fill the gap:

America has always been a compassionate nation that values the newcomer and takes great pride in our immigrant heritage; yet we're also a nation built on the rule of law, and those who enter the country illegally violate the law. The American people should not have to choose between a welcoming society and a lawful society. We can have both at the same time. And to keep the promise of America, we will enforce the laws of our country.

Does Bush's statement seem quite so silly / funny / whatever in context as it did out of context? Sure, there's a good deal of redundancy here, but such redundancy is often rhetorically valuable. And that sometimes includes stating the obvious, especially when it's an obvious point that one's adversaries often try to deemphasize. Might it have been helpful to provide the quote in context? Or at least to have linked to the context, for the benefit of readers who want to look further?

Slate's editor includes this in his Bushism of the Day column today:

"I'm the decider, and I decide what is best. And what's best is for Don Rumsfeld to remain as the secretary of defense." — Washington, D.C., April 18, 2006

First, I wonder whether a little context — which Slate unfortunately doesn't provide, and doesn't even link to — might be helpful. Here's the broader exchange (April 18, 2006):

QUESTION: Mr. President, you created a practice of not commenting on potential personnel moves, calling it speculation...

BUSH: Of course, I do. You can understand why: because we've got people's reputations at stake.

And on Friday, I stood up and said I don't appreciate the speculation about Don Rumsfeld. He's doing a fine job. I strongly support him.

QUESTION: Well, what do you say to critics who believe that you're ignoring the advice of retired generals, military commanders, who say that there needs to be a change?

BUSH: I say I listen to all voices. But mine's the final decision.

And Don Rumsfeld is doing a fine job. He's not only transforming the military, he's fighting a war on terror — he's helping us fight a war on terror.

I have strong confidence in Don Rumsfeld.

I hear the voices. And I read the front page. And I know the speculation. But I'm the decider and I decide what is best. And what's best is for Don Rumsfeld to remain as the secretary of defense.

The insistence that "I'm the decider" might sound slightly odd out of context. But in context, it's simply a reflection of the question — the questioner is stressing that some retired generals think Rumsfeld should go; so are various other commentators; Bush is stressing that it's not up to the generals or the newspapers to make the decision, but up to him.

But beyond this, what does this have to do with "The president's accidental wit and wisdom," the Bushisms column's subtitle? Am I missing some funny grammatical error? Some other instance of accidental wit? And if the criticism is a substantive criticism of Bush's message, wouldn't that require, well, some actual argument, rather than just a "Here are some silly words that speak for themselves"?

UPDATE: Commenter Confused suggests that the problem might be the use of "decider" instead of "decisionmaker." I hadn't even thought of this, but on reflection I agree that "decider" is considerably more often used to describe a deciding event -- especially a deciding event in sports, according my quick LEXIS search -- rather than a person who decides.

Yet the Oxford English Dictionary lists "One who or that which decides (a controversy, question, etc.)" as one of the definitions (the other indeed being "spec. in Racing. A final race or heat which decides the contest; esp. an extra one run for that purpose, e.g. after a dead heat."); the examples fit the "one who decides a question" definition. And the word "decider" used to mean "one who decides" fits so easily with normal rules of English word formation that it didn't even strike me as odd. (Yes, I know that normal rules of English word formation sometimes produce results that ordinary English speakers would actually never use, but the OED suggests that this isn't one such instance.) So at most, it seems to me, one would say that the usage is mildly unidiomatic, not wrong, silly, or even inadvertently funny.

Here's today's Slate's Bushism of the Day:

"That's George Washington, the first president, of course. The interesting thing about him is that I read three -- three or four books about him last year. Isn't that interesting?" -- Showing German newspaper reporter Kai Diekmann the Oval Office, Washington, D.C., May 5, 2006

Now it strikes me as a little odd that Slate, one of the pioneers of online journalism, doesn't take advantage of one of the great advantages of online journalism over offline journalism -- the ability to link to the original sources (eithers ones that are already online or ones that are put up on the Web by the journal itself), so that readers can see the context for themselves.

Here is the context for that quote:

That's George Washington, the first President, of course. The interesting thing about him is that I read three -- three or four books about him last year. Isn't that interesting? People say, so what? Well, here's the "so what." You never know what your history is going to be like until long after you're gone. If they're still analyzing the presidency of George Washington -- (laughter.) So Presidents shouldn't worry about the history. You just can't. You do what you think is right, and if you're thinking big enough, that history will eventually prove you right or wrong. But you won't know in the short-term.

Without this context, Bush's quote seems mysteriously inarticulate, and understandable only as an unintentional self-parody of his own unintellectualism. Why would he say that it's interesting that he read three or four books about Washington this year? Mystifying.

But the rest of the quote explains the mystery, and makes what strikes me as a pretty sensible (though of course not earthshattering) point. It's true that as a logical matter the interesting point for Bush's argument is that there are three or four such books (presumably recent ones), not that Bush read them. But it's the sort of formally illogical but conveniently descriptive statement that ordinary speakers would, I think, often make, if they wanted to orally make the points that (1) there are (at least) three or four books on a subject, and at the same time that (2) they're interested in the subject enough to have read three or four such books on it.

In any case, analyze this how you will -- but it does seem to me that (A) the full quote seems a lot different from the brief excerpt that Slate provided, and (B) it would be nice if Slate made a habit of providing links so that readers can more easily check such things for themselves.

Today's Bushism of the Day:

"That's called, 'A Charge To Keep,' based upon a religious hymn. The hymn talks about serving God. The president's job is never to promote a religion." -- Showing German newspaper reporter Kai Diekmann the Oval Office, Washington, D.C., May 5, 2006

Here's the full context:

These are all Texas paintings.... [Discussion of Texas paintings, and also of the paintings of Washington and Lincoln, omitted. -EV]

That's called "A Charge to Keep," based upon a religious hymn. The hymn talks about serving God. The President's job is never to promote a religion. The great thing about America--and Germany, for that matter--is that you should be able to worship freely. I like to tell people, you're equally American whether you're a Jew, Muslim, Christian, or atheist--you're equally all Americans--and that if we ever lose that, we begin to look like the Taliban.

I understand, in parts of Europe, some scoff at my faith. It doesn't bother me. But I happen to believe, for me at least, faith is one way to make sure that my values stay intact and that I keep life in proper perspective, which is a very important part, in my judgment, of being a good decisionmaker.

Sounds to me like the President was showing a foreign journalist around the Oval Office. While showing the journalist the paintings and explaining what they meant to him, Bush came to this painting (thanks to BAGnewsNotes for the pointer) and noted that its title was based on a religious hymn that Bush apparently finds inspirational. He then realized that this reference to religion might draw criticism from some (especially by foreigners who aren't fully aware of how American political life works); and he thought it would be good to point out that the President generally ought not promote a religion, but is entitled to be influenced by his religion. It's hard for me to see anything particular inarticulate, unwise, choppy, inexplicable, or even funny about this.

But in any case, doesn't the quote seen in context -- with an explanation for why he was talking about the painting, and with more details of what he was trying to say about religion -- seem different than the quote provided out of context?

I wanted to ask my readers, of all political stripes, for a small favor. Can you please read the following Bushism of the Day (from today's Slate), and ask yourself: "What do I think is funny, ridiculous, inarticulate, telling, or otherwise noteworthy about it? What point do I think the author of the column was trying to make with it?" Please post the answer to one or both of these questions in the comments.

Please don't do research on this, try to find the context of the quote, talk the matter over with others, or read the other comments before posting your own. I'm genuinely trying to find out (albeit through a highly informal and unscientific survey) how people react to this item.

"Finally, the desk, where we'll have our picture taken in front of — is nine other presidents used it. This was given to us by Queen Victoria in the 1870s, I think it was. President Roosevelt put the door in so people would not know he was in a wheelchair. John Kennedy put his head out the door." — Showing German newspaper reporter Kai Diekmann the Oval Office, Washington, D.C., May 5, 2006

Please don't post comments other than the answers to the questions; I'll post more about this item later today, and you'll have plenty of time to discuss the matter further. Right now, I just want to gather people's reactions to the quote. Thanks very much for your help!

UPDATE: Thanks, got a lot of responses, which very helpful; comments on this post are now closed.

Here's today's Bushism of the Day, from Slate:

"Finally, the desk, where we'll have our picture taken in front of — is nine other presidents used it. This was given to us by Queen Victoria in the 1870s, I think it was. President Roosevelt put the door in so people would not know he was in a wheelchair. John Kennedy put his head out the door." — Showing German newspaper reporter Kai Diekmann the Oval Office, Washington, D.C., May 5, 2006

My first reaction when reading it was: Huh? Kennedy putting his head out the door? What is he talking about? I had assumed that this would be the reaction of many other readers, and the response to my post below confirms that it was indeed the reaction of some.

If I'm right, wouldn't it have been just a bit more fair to include a little more context?

Finally, the desk, where we'll have our picture taken in front of — is nine other Presidents used it. This was given to us by Queen Victoria in the 1870s, I think it was. President Roosevelt put the door in so people would not know he was in a wheelchair. John Kennedy put his head out the door.

Q Yes, the very famous picture --

THE PRESIDENT: That's it — the most famous picture. And then Reagan, interestingly enough, put the bottom on there. He was a big guy, he didn't want to bump his knees under the desk.

I'd never heard of the picture, but it turns out that the picture shows John F. Kennedy's son (sometimes known as John-John, but quite properly called John, especially when the context is clear to listeners, which in this case it obviously was) coming out the door in front of the desk. Am I one of the few people who had never heard of the desk? And if I'm not, wouldn't it have been better to explain the matter to readers? Bush rightly guessed that the journalist who was interviewing him would get the reference, and in any case he was right there to clarify if the journalist seemed confused. But it seems to me that the Bushisms author couldn't fairly make such an assumption.

What's more, why exactly was that line included in the quote, if not to make Bush sound absurd — unfairly so, for the reason I just described? Some commenters suggested that the point of the Bushism may relate to Bush's diction: "where we'll have our picture taken in front of" instead of "in front of which we'll have our picture taken" or "where we'll have our picture taken," plus the unnecessary "is" before "nine other presidents used it." These glitches happen routinely in unscripted speech, even in the speech of intelligent and generally articulate people. Read some transcripts some time, and you'll see a lot of it. Carefully listen to yourself or your articulate friends talk, and you'll hear the same.

But in any event, all these glitches are in the first sentence; the other sentences are quite grammatical. (Some commenters claimed otherwise, but I think they're mistaken.) Why are those sentences included? Some commenters objected to the "us" in the "given to us by Queen Victoria" as a supposed "royal we," but I take it that in context "us" simply means "Americans" (as in "the French gave us the Statue of Liberty").

Some other commenters said the sentences are disjointed, but recall that Bush is discussing items in his office. How do you describe an interesting piece of furniture to someone who's looking at it with you? I'll bet you point to one aspect, say a sentence about it, point to another, say another sentence, and so on. The connections between sentences are provided by your gestures and the listener's examination of the piece; you don't need to worry about sounding disjointed. A few people pointed out that the desk was used by more than nine Presidents — one source reports that it has been all since Hayes except Johnson, Nixon, and Ford — but surely that can't be the Bushism author's point. One commenter suggested that "The author's point: Bush is quite willing and able to prattle on about inane details of a desk. Yet, by many accounts, he demonstrates far less willingness and ability to discuss important policy matters." Yet that hardly seems like a fair way to use the quote; Bush is giving a journalist a tour of his office — aren't Presidents allowed to do that, and to talk about the furniture in the process?

In any case, I still can't see any legitimate reason for the third and fourth sentences to be included. If the inclusion is an attempt to make Bush sound like he's saying something absurd, it's unfair, because it would work only because of the audience's own ignorance of the photo to which Bush was referring, and which is noted in the very next sentence from the transcript. And if it's not an attempt to do that, I have no idea why those sentences were quoted.

Finally, let me stress again: Of course the Bushism item is a joke, and jokes shouldn't held to the same standards of logic or fairness as a newspaper article would be. But it's clear that the joke is meant to make a political point — meant to be something of a criticism. Shouldn't such material pass at least some standard of fairness, like for instance that it not be something that looks absurd (at least to some readers) in context but perfectly sensible in context?

On occasion of Slate's 10th anniversary celebrations, its editors very graciously invited several of the magazine's "most persistent critics" to offer their criticisms in Slate's pages. Here are my criticisms, which I hope are constructive.

Here's today's Bushism of the Day, "the president's accidental wit and wisdom," from Slate:

"So we'll bring our ideas, they'll bring theirs, let's clarify the differences, let's don't say bad things about our opponents."

Whoops, sorry, wrong President -- that's actually from President Clinton. The Bushism of the Day today is really this:

"Let's don't just talk about it. Let's actually do it, by passing the legislation."

Rats! Screwed up again -- that's actually from Vice President Gore. Here, and this time I'm serious, is today's actual Bushism of the Day:

"I tell people, let's don't fear the future, let's shape it." -- Omaha, Neb., June 7, 2006

As best I can tell, the only supposed flub -- the only supposed humor -- here is "let's don't." (Without that, the phrase isn't terribly rich in content, but neither are "the only thing we have to fear is fear itself," or a wide range of other perfectly normal exhortations from political leaders.)

Yet it's a flub only in the sense that departure from the standard Northeastern/West Coast elite spoken English is a flub. If you search for "let's don't," you'll find it used routinely in spoken English, chiefly (as best I can tell from my searches) by people from flyover country.

The only usage guide I could find that discusses "let's don't" is "The Columbia Guide to Standard American English", which reports, "There are three negative idioms: Let's not stay, Don't let's stay, and Let's don't stay. [I infer that 'stay' is just an example here, and the idiom equally works with other verbs.] All are Standard, although Let's don't is more typically American than Don't let's, which is more typically British." Sounds right to me.

Here's Yesterday's Bushism at Slate:

"And the question is, are we going to be facile enough to change with—will we be nimble enough; will we be able to deal with the circumstances on the ground? And the answer is, yes, we will."—Washington, D.C., July 25, 2006

To Slate's credit, they point to the video of Bush's comments (referring to the material starting at 17:44). I followed the video and noticed that the transcript was incorrect; here's what I wrote to Slate (apologies for the typo in the parenthetical):

Today's column says, [quote omitted] .... Fortunately, it includes a link to the video.

I followed that link, and it turns out the transcription is mistaken. President Bush says:

"And the question is, are we going to be facile enough to change with the c—will we be nimble enough; will we be able to deal with the circumstances on the ground? And the answer is, yes, we will."—Washington, D.C., July 25, 2006.

I understand that you folks might still want to fault Bush for having cut off the word "conditions" (assuming this wasn't just a technical glitch (note that the audio might have some skips, see 18:10-18:16). But at least the transcript ought to be corrected, I think.

To my surprise, here's the message I got back from Slate:

Geoff (Jacob's Bushism researcher) followed up on this, and here's what he has to say.

Bush makes an audible, vague "c" sound in the video, very briefly. But he often makes a lot of sounds that don't end up in the White House transcript. Plenty of "uhs" and "ums" and sometimes real starts and stops to words or thoughts. And part of what the White House does to indicate that he's changing gear abruptly is they use those em dashes between disjointed points. We print their version faithfully and I think we have to. I'm glad we run video so that people can see how these things are actually delivered.

Bush's comment was widely quoted in the form in which it appeared in the White House release. I don't think Volokh would find it fair if we got into the business of "correcting" the White House transcript in this way.

This struck me as pretty remarkable: The video conclusively proves the transcript to be mistaken; whatever one may say about the "c" (and it seems to me clearly audible enough to be included), the transcript clearly omits the word "the." Yet Slate insists on continuing to cite the transcript, which is what I suspect 95+% of its readers will rely on) even though it's wrong.

I don't see how that could be proper. Even if Slate feels uncomfortable departing from the White House transcript — odd, given that it's quite entitled to transcribe the video itself — surely there'd be nothing wrong with noting that the transcript was mistaken. And it seems to me quite wrong to continue to use a transcript that one now knows to be in error.

Naturally, one could conclude that even the corrected version somehow shows a risible error on President Bush's part (assuming there's no video skip); I've never found such slips in extemporaneous speech to be particularly telling, but others may disagree. Still, I'd think a basic rule of journalism would be: When you give a transcript, give an accurate transcript, and if you learn that it's wrong (by comparing it with an actual live recording), correct it, even if you think that the error in the transcript is immaterial. That apparently is not Slate's view, though.