Back in the Saddle

FOR A BRIEF WHILE several years ago, it was fashionable to suggest that Russell Baker, the dean of America's political and social satirists, was losing it. With Jimmy Carter in the White House, all humorists found the going tough: it is funny to kick politicians when they're down, but not when they're as prostrate as the man from Plains. Besides, Carter's daily gaffes and painfully obvious foibles cornered the market on presidential humor. There simply weren't many truly funny things columnists could say about Carter that he hadn't already made clear himself.

With the conservative takeover, however, political humor has revived; for all the question marks surrounding President Reagan's record, the man has shown he can take--and deliver--a joke. Baker--whose career as the "Observer" of The New York Times will hit the two-decade mark this year--has seen the opportunities for political satire boom. Just last week, for instance, he "observed" that conservatives are, in fact, more fun-loving guys to party with than self-righteous left-wingers. Another recent Baker series teased--in the gentle but pointed fashion that is his trademark--the Reagan White House for, among other things, its Meese-heavy decision-making style.

If any doubts lingered about Baker's staying power, his newest compendium--Poor Russell's Almanac, his eighth book--should dispel them. A "retooled" and "retrofitted" edition of his 1972 version with the same name, the Almanac is less overtly political than other Baker books such as So This is Depravity. That work, Baker addicts will recall, answered the Big Questions--queries like "Is it true that [former president] Zachary Taylor liked to be spanked by older women?" (no) and "Wasn't George Washington once treated for an Oedipus complex?" (yes, but it was accidental), Instead, the revamped Almanac offers an hysterical social commentary on life in the '70s and '80s. In so doing, Baker proves without a doubt that he is back in the saddle.

The Almanac's satires nail a broad range of fictitious characters that represent much of what is "establishment" in America. Underlying many of the scenarios that Baker concocts is a fundamental cynicism toward the nation's more materialistic values and the routines they create. He observes:

How many years will our educators continue to lecture us on the evils of whipping our children until they bring home high grades? Year after year we listen to these fellows tell us that it is not the grade that counts but the development of the child's personality. After the lecture they go back to all the best schools and reject our children because they have C averages.

And: Usually, terrible things that are done with the excuse that progress requires them are not really progress at all, but just terrible things.

And: The sinister nature of the American soil is apparent in places like Gettysburg, Fertilize it with the blood of heroes, and it brings forth a frozen-custard stand.

And: There are no liberals behind steering wheels.

Baker's anecdotes and almanac-ish tips depict a world less evil than crazy and people afflicted less by self-interest than by tunnel vision. But even his most pointed observations are, at bottom, funny. When he satirizes network news in an anecdote showing how television "covered" the expulsion of Adam and Eve from the Garden Eden, it is with the lightest of touches. Baker's ability to portray the less palatable sides of American life while keeping readers chuckling at his insights has made him America's funniest social critic; it also makes the Almanac splendid reading.

THE ALMANAC'S political commentary, if less omnipresent than his jibes at social behavior, are equally insightful. Baker writes of the Washington rumor mill:

One of the most dangerous areas in the world is the notorious Horse's Mouth. It is an undulating swampy area bounded on the north by the White House and on the south by the Pentagon and is densely infested with people who are certain they know what is going on in El Salvador.

He has also chosen to reprint the guide to political rhetoric that appeared in the first Almanac, and his translations of "that strange tongue, Politigabble," remain as funny as ever. Among Baker's translations:

"My fellow Americans"--Anyone who switches to the channel showing the movie is unpatriotic"

"Let's look at the record"--Let's not.

"Peace with Honor"--"War."

"Let us remember that these wonderful young people are our citizens of tomorrow."--At present, however, they are still punks."

Tying Baker's disparate observations on society and politics together are the Almanac's running volleys on linguistic absurdity, historical parodies, and solutions to "Problems in Etiquette." These permeate the book, with Baker offering us tidbits like:

English is a language in which an army can be "decimated," but not "duomated," "triomated," "quatromated," or oddest of all, "pentamated."

Or: The English language makes it easy to go to places like "pieces" without making a move. Through the miracle of English, a man can "go to pieces," "go to pot," "go to seed," and "go to the dogs" simply by sitting in a deep chair with a bottle.

Poor Russell's Almanac will never achieve the fame of its forebear, Ben Franklin's legendary compendium of minutiae. Indeed, the $12 edition Baker has targeted at holiday shoppers might be worth skipping until the inevitable paperback appears. But read the newest Almanac and cherish Baker's insights. It is a rare man who can so aptly criticize America's foibles and still maintain a sense of humor. Baker does it better than anyone.