THE SONG IS OVER. The great Tom Lehrer -- author of The Vatican Rag, MLF Lullaby, and Poisoning Pigeons in the Park -- went back to academe a long time ago, but I was still unnerved to hear (via an especially good Altercation this a.m.) that Lehrer is too pissed off to write any of his masterful satirical ditties about our current condition: "'I'm not tempted to write a song about George W.Bush," quoth the master. "I couldn't figure out what sort of song I would write. That's the problem: I don't want to satirise George Bush and his puppeteers, I want to vaporise them."

Lehrer is of course of the old school, with attitudes formed in a time (perhaps really just a brief historical respite) when America didn't start wars, we finished them (and opposed to the current vice-versa), and people were still inclined to laugh bullshit off the national stage.

I wouldn't be surprised to learn that it isn't just anger that prevents Lehrer's Bush song cycle. In the aforementioned interview he has a lot of smack to say about modern comedy ("The people who go to comedy shows are kids that don't know anything, I think, and so you have to make jokes about your girlfriend or your family or that kind of thing -- only make them as vulgar as possible"). Well, yes. There's no point in satirizing something if no one knows what you're talking about, or even, perhaps, what satire is.

I may be mistaken but I detect a bit of sadness in Lehrer's responses. Not maudlin sadness, but the world-weary sort ("I have become, you might call it mature -- I would call it senile -- and I can see both sides..."). This may be the natural state of aged satirists, as the late careers of Twain, Swift, et alia also demonstrate. You watch the Big Show long enough and certain patterns of behavior, mostly brutal and self-defeating, emerge; sooner or later, you get tired of pointing them out to people who came in late. Or decide that it would really be a shame to reveal these plot twists to them, and thus spoil a brash and diverting (if somewhat tawdry) entertainment.

Maybe I'm just projecting here.