Huggies

by digby

Jesus H. Christ. It’s hard to imagine that any news day could be this slow.

The wildfires in Southern California this week have served to remind the world once more about one of the singular and underappreciated skills of George W. Bush: The man is a generous hugger.

There he was, amid the charred remains of some formerly upscale neighborhood, embracing the weary and the dazed victims of the fire. He made a little speech as one of the unfortunate locals was snuggled up to his side, his arm clinching her close. The gesture suggested strength, solidarity, compassion. The resident looked almost reassured.

[…]

Journalistic skepticism compels us to note that presidential hugs usually are photo ops, staged for the cameras and calculated to deliver the prepackaged sentiment, as Bush 41 once put it, “Message: I care.” But the visual evidence also compels us to remark that Bush 43’s hugs are among the least stage-y of his mannerisms. There’s an athletic, energetic, almost muscular quality to them. They seem, in a word, genuine.

This is something that many men — at least many men of Bush’s background and generation — have long found difficult. Hugging, particularly hugging another man, is the kind of casual yet intimate PDA that such men shy from. It’s acceptable with family members, and on formal occasions, like weddings and funerals, or if you’ve just won the Super Bowl. But let’s not push it.

The reason he’s been hugging so many people is because his administration has been one disaster after another.

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