Editor’s Note: What would the sharpest critics of the past make of today’s political theater? To find out, we used artificial intelligence to imagine how historical commentators would review current events. The following is an AI-generated commentary on President Trump’s recent state visit to China, written in the tavern-born wisdom of Mr. Dooley.
“Well, sir,” said Mr. Dooley, wiping down the bar with a rag that had seen better administrations, “I see be th’ papers that th’ Prisidint has been over visitin’ th’ Impror iv Chiny.”
“I thought Chiny had a prisidint too, or a chairman or somethin’,” said Mr. Hennessy, nursing his glass.
“They have whativer ye want to call a man who don’t have to pack his bags whin th’ lease is up,” said Mr. Dooley. “But Impror is what he is, an’ Impror is how he treated our man. They put him up in th’ F’rbidden City, Hinnissy. ‘Tis a grand, sprawling palace they used to keep strictly f’r th’ local boss an’ his wives, but seein’ as how our Prisidint has a well-known weakness f’r gold paint on th’ ceilin’ an’ high walls, they opened th’ big red doors wide. Nothin’ says ‘welcome to th’ workers’ republic’ quite like dinin’ in a room where they used to behead th’ help f’r sneezin’.
“It was a masterclass in dip-lomacy, which is th’ art iv smilin’ at a man while ye step on his shoes. Mr. Xi, th’ head man over there, looks at our Prisidint an’ says, ‘Ye’re a great man, an’ ye’re doin’ a grand job.’ An’ th’ Prisidint looks at Mr. Xi an’ says, ‘Ye’re a great man too, an’ I’m an aven greater man f’r noticin’ it.’ In th’ old days, Hinnissy, they’d shoot off cannons to show respect; now they just shoot off compliments till th’ translation machine gives up th’ ghost and starts smokin’.
“Thin, to show what a tight-knit bunch iv geopolitical strategists th’ family is, out comes th’ magic flat-screen. Th’ Prisidint shows th’ Chinese boss a movin’ picture iv his little granddaughter singin’ a song in their own tongue. Ah, Hinnissy, there’s nawthin’ like a little tyke singin’ a ditty to soften th’ heart iv a man who runs a billion people an’ a million steel mills. ‘Twas a beautiful touch. I’m thinkin’ iv teachin’ me own nephew to sing in Gaelic, just in case th’ brewery rep comes askin’ f’r th’ unpaid bill.
“An’ thin came th’ business, th’ meat iv th’ matter. Two hundherd an’ fifty billion dollars in trade deals, they announced, with all th’ fanfare iv a circus parade passin’ through town. ‘Tis a sum so big ye could almost pay off th’ bar tab iv th’ Eighth Ward. But ’tis mostly on paper, Hinnissy. ‘Memorandums iv undherstandin’,’ they call thim in Washington. Which means, translated from th’ lawyer-talk: ‘I undherstand ye’d like me to buy ye’re airplanes, an’ ye undherstand I might, if I don’t figure out how to build ’em meself first.’
“But th’ best part, th’ part that shows th’ true genius iv th’ man, was whin they stood up at th’ microphones to talk about who’s robbin’ who blind. F’r months on th’ campaign trail, ’twas ‘Chiny is stealin’ our shirts an’ laughin’ at us.’ But standin’ there, lookin’ at th’ roast duck, th’ Prisidint didn’t blame Mr. Xi at all. He says, ‘I don’t blame ye f’r takin’ advantage iv us. If I was you, I’d take our shirts too. I blame th’ fellas who used to live in th’ White House f’r leavin’ th’ closet door open.’
“‘Tis a wonderful thing, Hinnissy, an’ a great innovation in foreign policy. Ye travel halfway across th’ wurruld, eat a man’s food, drink his tea, an’ use th’ occasion to yell at th’ ghost iv th’ fella who had ye’re job befure ye.”
“So, did they solve th’ problems iv th’ wurruld?” asked Mr. Hennessy. “Will th’ factories be comin’ back to Chicago?”
“They will not,” said Mr. Dooley. “Th’ boats will keep sailin’, an’ th’ ledgers will keep bleedin’. But they had a grand dinner, they took some beautiful pictures, an’ nobody dropped th’ fine china. In th’ high-stakes business iv runnin’ th’ globe, Hinnissy, ye count that as a massive triumph, declare a total victory, an’ move on to th’ next banquet.”
Tom & Nancy Cook 
Leave a comment