Cogito Ego Sum

By Tony Kornheiser

Sunday, January 12 1997; Page F01

The Washington Post

I'm all set for the inauguration. I'm hanging out on the Mall at the "American Journey" tent.

According to the Presidential Inaugural Committee, that's where they're gathering the "Great

Thinkers."

It's a whole tent full of Really Smart People, who are going to lecture, and then engage the

public in "Empowerment Dialogues."

Doesn't that make you want to drive a bulldozer through it?

There are to be seven heated tents on the Mall next weekend -- and with any luck there will

be a minus-20 wind chill, with an Alberta Clipper blowing through, and farm animals flying

over the Capitol dome.

Two of the tents are food tents. Two are music tents, where there will be performances of

jazz, country, gospel and folk music -- God forbid they should have some sound you can

actually dance to. One tent is the "Technology Playground," which, unfortunately, is about

computers, not sophisticated sex toys. One tent is for kids. It's being called the "Millennium

Schoolhouse." Real inviting, huh? The Millennium Schoolhouse. It sounds like where Norman

Bates went to school.

And the seventh tent is for the Great Thinkers.

The way I understand it, various Great Thinkers will tell their life stories, then open up the

program to questions from the audience. And if, as I expect, not a single living soul is still in

the tent, the Secret Service assigned to the Great Thinkers will head out on the Mall and start

hauling people in for the Empowerment Dialogues.

"Hey, you, get over here. This is Bill Moyers. He's a Great Thinker. Ask him a question."

"I -- I'm a tourist. I don't know what to ask."

"ASK HIM A QUESTION!"

"Okay, how much will a cab cost to Arlington Cemetery?"

The official list of Great Thinkers hasn't been released, though two of the names that are being

floated are Bill Gates and Oprah Winfrey. I'm sorry, but I'm having trouble imagining the most

disgustingly wealthy geek in the world sitting still while every poor yutz passing by comes over

to ask him if they should upgrade to a 2-gigabyte hard drive. Bill Gates is building a

40,000-square-foot, $40 million house outside Seattle that will make the Taj Mahal look like

a toolshed, and he's going to sit in a mud hut on the Mall all weekend? And Oprah working a

tent? Look, there are only two questions anybody has for Oprah. One, how did you finally

keep all the weight off -- did you just break down and sell your soul to the devil? And two,

how come you don't marry that guy with no last name?

America has no more Great Thinkers, only great egos. What we need is a Self-Important

Tent. It could feature Sharon Stone -- stark-naked on a revolving pedestal -- lecturing on

how unfair it is that no one takes her seriously. "They only focus on my body!" Every month in

Vanity Fair there's another story in which Sharon tells us about her 160 IQ. But men don't

seem to be attracted to her brilliant brain. The injustice! Maybe in her next movie she could

try taking off the top of her head instead of her blouse. Demi Moore and Deepak Chopra can

set up next to Sharon and talk about "reconnecting with God, the herbal way." And Camille

Paglia can rant on incomprehensibly while the entire staff of the New Republic sits wide-eyed

and takes notes.

Don't get me wrong. I'm a guy looking for Empowerment Dialogue. But not necessarily with

Great Thinkers.

I would like to ask Earl Scheib, for example, "Do you prime before you paint?"

I would like to inquire of Dionne Warwick if it's true that in a previous life I was the Archduke

of Maracaibo, because that would explain the odd cravings I get for Venezuelan rum drinks

and the spring in my step every time I hear a marimba.

Who wouldn't want to ask Heidi Fleiss her beeper number?

Who wouldn't want to ask Michael Bolton, "You're kidding, right?"

Who wouldn't want to ask Dolly Parton, "Paper or plastic?" (I bet you thought I was going

somewhere else.)

Who wouldn't want to ask somebody high up in the Clinton administration, "What's the rack

rate for the Lincoln Bedroom? And do you get a discount if you say, `Suharto sent me'?"

(Speaking of which, I love the rumor that Barbra Streisand is bagging the inauguration

because she can't sleep in the Lincoln Bedroom -- apparently it's been booked by 15 guys

from Pakistan who gave President Clinton a million bucks apiece in cash and told him they'd

set him up with a free Slurpee machine. Babs should be on a stool in the Self-Important Tent,

yapping about policy issues while getting a manicure. And right next to her I see Dick Morris,

getting a pedicure. The two of them can dress up like Thomas Jefferson and Eleanor

Roosevelt. That'll be nice, because it gives Hillary someone to talk to.)

I'm sorry. I find this emphasis on education and culture in the inauguration distressing. I'm very

disappointed in Hollywood Harry Thomason, who has apparently become a PBS-Commie.

Where are the rides?

Where are the people dressed up as big furry dogs? How can you have an American

celebration without mascots? What is this, Albania?

Where's the car chase?

Come on, Harry, let's have FUN!

Let's set up a tent on the Mall that has that fat, lying gasbag Newt Gingrich on a chair in a

bathing suit. People can throw softballs at a target, and if they hit it, Newt would get dunked

in a tank of water like a blowfish. Now that's great thinking.

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