Trying to watch next Tuesday's State of the Union: a guide to controlling the gag reflex

George W. Bush presents a challenge I do not associate with any previous President. In droves, American citizens report that they can't stand to watch him on television. In very funny blogs (see Bob Cesca on Huffington Post, e.g.), in comments by friends, I hear this over and over. People just can't stand looking at the guy. Cesca refers to Bush's "pointy face" as a reason his relatives abjure the citizen's responsibility of paying heed to the press conferences and speeches of their Chief Executive. Others refer to his many nervous tics, his averted gaze, his artificial gestures of emphasis, his garbled syntax, his habit of laughing and snickering while talking about matters of macabre horror, like his dumb war in Iraq and his dumber plans for expanding it.

Surely we can rise above such ad hominem cavils and pay attention to the what the President says; he is, after all, the Decider, and what he says used to go. Or, more fun, you can read what I think is the real reason he makes his subjects nauseous when they look at him. I think this may be an original insight, and it is based on superficial research, even, beginning with my transient interest in the notion that Bush's facial characteristics may be indicative of fetal alcohol syndrome. I don't know if there's anything to that. Armchair neurologists have suggested that Bar may have hit the hooch pretty good during her first pregnancy while G.H.W. Bush was off on biz trips, trailing an oil stain behind him. Pure speculation, and the only evidence consists of anecdotal observations of how weird Bush is. Anyway, it's a cruel slur against people who genuinely do suffer from the sad affliction of FAS.

Nevertheless, FAS sufferers often lack a philtrum, "which is the vertical groove in the upper lip, formed where the nasomedial and maxillary processes meet during embryonic development. The philtrum exists to allow a dynamic range of lip motions necessary for human vocal and non-verbal communication". (Wikipedia entry for "philtrum." I told you I had researched this blog piece.) I will say, without boasting, that I have a robust philtrum. I owe this feature, as I owe so much, to my late, beloved mother, who touched nary a drop during my gestation. It is not, of course, in the class of Angelina Jolie or John F. Kennedy, Jr., apotheoses of the well-developed philtrum. But 'tis enough, 'twill serve. Bush, by contrast, seems to lack that vertical groove. It is too much to say that the space above his upper lip is entirely ungrooved, but I think his nasomedial and maxillary processes failed to get it completely together during Bar's Scotch-soaked, Poppy-deprived pregnancy.

Until I undertook the exhaustive research for this piece (the results of which you've already read), I didn't know the philtrum was involved in vocal dynamics, but its near-total absence, in W's case, may explain an anomalous feature of Bush's speaking style. You will notice that the opening and closing of his mouth proceed not in the fluid, flexible style of normal vocalization, but resemble more the movement of a hatch. Imagine Howdy Doody for a moment. Remember? It is as if Bush's entire upper lip is stuck to his front teeth. This effect is accentuated when Bush is scared spitless, as during press conferences where he's confronted with his latest batch of lies, or (significantly) during his annual exercise in mendacity, the State of the Union Address. At such moments, Bush's upper lip probably is stuck to his front teeth, which is why you never see his teeth when he speaks (another reason, also characteristic of FAS, is that they're unusually small).

The Howdy Doody Effect, when coupled with the clumsy phrasing, neologistic solecism, and stupid logic of his actual words, combine, in total effect, to produce someone who simply can't be watched. If we think about it thus, feelings of compassion may arise. We might be able to reclassify Bush as someone philtrum-challenged. He might be eligible, retroactively, to gain admission to some of those schools he got into by dint of his name, this time as a special needs case.

A solution, of course, is at hand. A mustache. It would not need to be a full-on walrus job. Just a vertical bar, about an inch wide, covering the area where the philtrum should be. Combined with one of his trademark gestures, the right arm held high, palm facing the audience, brought down with a thump on the rostrum -- all this might be enough to make us forget our ridicule and bring us back to the fear more appropriate to his reign.