The Iberville Parish-bred campaign strategist for Bill Clinton had all of his outsize, "ragin' Cajun" personality on display for a roomful of suits and dresses at the downtown Hilton hotel by the Mississippi River.
After rambling a bit, he clicked into a story about being pulled over by the highway patrol somewhere in Virginia, supposedly going 85 in a 65 MPH zone. To paraphrase, he told the cop, come on, every redneck in the state drives a black pickup truck, you just pointed the radar gun out there and happened to pull me over.
To complicate things, Carville's wife, Mary Matalin, was mad at him at the time and wasn't in the mood to jump to his defense; instead, she told the officer, oh he worked for Clinton, they lie about everything.
When the cop then told Carville he was going to add a ticket for not wearing a seat belt, Carville complained, oh get out, I took off my seat belt to get my wallet out of my pocket after I stopped. Matalin added, oh no, he never wears a seat belt.
That was the last straw for Carver, who "snapped" and turned to Matalin, saying, "Shut up!" The officer asked her, does he always talk to you like that? And she of course replied, only when he's been drinking.
By the way, although Carville is a Democrat, Matalin is a Republican pundit; perhaps that clarifies things.
Asked during a lunch Q&A session if the couple argue over politics at home, Carville said: "I don't argue with my wife. It's not a winning proposition." Instead, he said his three secrets to a happy marriage are "retreat, capitulation and surrender."
Carville went to Louisiana State University and joked that when he served as a legislative page in the capital city, the worst part of the job was delivering an envelope with four hundred-dollar bills in it because "you never knew if the middle man took out a hundred or six hundred."
At LSU, he said he enjoyed his four years as a sophomore. He swore he eventually graduated with a 4.0 -- his blood alcohol level, that is.
He praised the sophisticated culture of New Orleans, his recently adopted home, with its alluring music, food, architecture, even its unique funerals, saying he has lived all over but was drawn back after 22 years to the people and heritage of the Gulf. Nowhere compares to the fabled jewel that is New Orleans, he said, noting by contrast, "When's the last time someone went to Ohio and listened to organ music?"
Commenting on the bitter divisiveness in right-versus-left politics today, he pointed to a truly non-partisan time in American history: 1862, at the hopeless heart of the Civil War. Since he got involved in elections in 1988, he said, every contest has been a battle for the future of civilization as we stare down the abyss -- and the next one will be even more dire. Back off all the heated rhetoric, he advised, from right-wing attacks on every decision made by Barack Obama, to left-wing promises that if the other guy wins, "I'm going to Canada."
"Well you just go on and freeze," he said.
Asked what he foresees in terms of terrorist threats to come, he speculated that "Islamic fundamentalist" attacks on America will be viewed in a few decades as an unfortunate fad given their dependence on suicide bombers and other self-dooming martyrs.
"At some point, killing yourself is not an attractive way to go through life," he said to a round of applause. "The world changes, and sometimes it changes for the better."
Besides warning that the international bond market threatens to doom the U.S. economy like nothing we've seen yet when treasuries are auctioned off in a few years and "go up a gazillion basis points," his toughest criticism was aimed at Fox News (and to a lesser extent, mirror image MSNBC News).
"I wish I had stock in it," he said of Fox. "It's not news. Opinion is cheap."
Journalism, on the other hand, is expensive, from staffing Afghan or Gulf Coast news bureaus to employing reporters to cover city council meetings across the nation. TV news is veering toward sheer commentary, he said, reinforcing what viewers already think instead of educating them on the subtle mosaic of issues.
He likened Fox News to a drunk leaning on a lamp post, noting that the network uses news "for support, not illumination."
Despite the conservative bent of the room, Carville had the audience in the palm of his hand with his witty standup act and good ol' boy charm. Yet the impolitic way he was introduced was puzzling. Both in publicity for the event and to the man's face, he was feted as someone to listen to "whether you agree with everything or disagree with some things" he says.
Surely a book deal is just the beginning of the Palin marketing
machine. Go on, have a taste. It's surely full of mavericky flavor.
Talk about a back-handed welcome: Here's some liberal loon from way down South, enjoy; we couldn't get Palin.
Speaking of whom, Carville mentioned that Sarah Palin's memoir "Going Rogue" is due out soon, while Joe Biden is still working on his autobiography -- "Going Rogaine."
Carville teaches political science at Tulane University. The lunch was sponsored by the Istrouma Area Council Boy Scouts.
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