Gil's Great Goodbye

The Bush Administration warped American life in such profound yet subtle ways that we won't really know what hit us we can look back years from now and wonder, What the hell? Take, as one tiny example, television. There were some shows made unwatchable by their virtuous counter-example: The West Wing. Week after week, we'd tune in to watch the train we'd all missed by a few lousy Florida votes--a smart, articulate, chess-playing(!) president who was familiar with the concepts of strategy, diplomacy, and sophistication. At least you all tuned in, because after a while the contrast between make-believe Martin Sheen and the real-world man in the Oval became too painful for me to take. And then there were shows made unbearable simply by the knowledge that Dick Cheney liked them: 24. How could you enjoy Kiefer Sutherland saving the world when you knew the Dark One took every episode as an endorsement for waterboarding? There were changes in viewing habits that, at first, baffled the commentariat--I worry and scratch my chin as America switches from Tom Brokaw to Jon Stewart--and then, as some unspoken tipping point was reached, became obvious. How could you not get your news from Stewart, seemingly the only man in America left with an honest, not-completely-gutless reaction. Finally, last night's exit by Gil Grissom from CSI. It's no mystery why CSI has crushed all comers in the ratings: Cops and robbers in Vegas, great writing, fab acting, good guys win. And no politics involved. Pure escapism. Until last night, that is. On his way out the door, Gil Grissom (William Peterson) uttered a piece of advice to his successor, played by Samuel L. Jackson. "People lie," he said. "The only thing we can count on is the evidence." As the Bushies leave the building, it's not a bad aphorism to remember them by.