A Disturbance in the Force
I went out with my friend Tom S. this Thursday and we downed martinis as fast as the harried bartendress could fling them at us. "Alright, now where were we?," I asked Tom, meaning to pick up from weeks ago when we huddled to chat about the world like sailors trying to navigate through an oncoming typhoon. Tom said, in a very nice way, "I think you're an egotistical ass. The Big Picture is the same whether a Pug or a Dim is in charge. On top of that, the moon is waxing full in two or three days, and you're too optimistic."
Tom S. has me at an advantage because he reads this blog and I can't seem to make him stop. Tom, your point is not just well taken, it's the point. From Teddy Roosevelt on to Preznit, it's been one vast manifest-destinied star-spangled conspiracy to rule the world. (Although Calvin Coolidge clearly wasn't on the same page as everyone else.) These Nike Airs we wear are proof positive of its success.
And there were some very big wheels moving behind the smoke and mirrors these past couple of weeks. Pay no attention to the carney barkers yelling "Get your amazing nude cub scout wrestling inside, folks, step right up !" This is not new. Since about the time the Mayflower disgorged its retching, diseased utopian Jesus freaks, Americans have reacted to sexual scandals like this latest one involving the former US Representative from Palm Beach, Florida, Mark Foley, much like moths react to bright lights. When gay congressional pederasts go around spouting family values while simultaneously trying to get into teenagers' pants, that light is burning mercury-vapor bright. It's "I've watched star ships burning off the shoulder of Orion" bright. I'm not sure how long it'll take to get back to normal (cough) or how many moths will get singed (remember that smell?), but it's going to be awhile.
The Pugs are riled, the flash bulbs are popping and the Dims are looking down on the stinking mess like a Persian cat lounging on a mantle above a nice crackling fire. This is sublimely, truly hilarious. I'm laughing. I'm crying. Our fearless leaders have been dropping napalm and white phosphorus onto families sleeping in their beds half a world away, bombing wedding parties, outsourcing torture while admitting that 80% of the people they hold are innocent, and counterfeiting supertankers full of cash, and they're going down because of...sexual harrassment!? How apropos. At this moment the Pugs are eyeing a 40+-seat loss in the House. Even so, behind the pugbuggery, the noise, and the unwanted images, there were actually far more important things going on.
Exhibit A: James Baker III, Bush family fixer and the man upon whom Harvey Keitel's character "The Wolf" in the movie Pulp Fiction may have been based, went to Tehran. What was he doing there, going on a second honeymoon with his wife? Maybe it was for the great mountain biking to be had in Iran, and not for the wheels within wheels. (Thanks for the Asia Times article on this, Tom.)
Exhibit B: Condi Rice flies to Baghdad and dons a flak vest. Boy, the bit players in this docudrama have given us some great names to chew on. Her plane took some "indirect fire," meaning mortar rounds, going into Baghdad. This forced her to re-schedule her meeting with our Chief Sock Puppet in Iraq, the exotically named Al-Maliki (which sounds like "death quick" in Portugee-Hawaiian), and to miss several of her other meetings, which were actually the important ones. They said the delay was due to a mechanical problem. Yes, and after her near-sacrificial baptism of fire, she is henceforth to be known as Condoleezzzzaaaa!!! Why they couldn't just do a frigging conference call instead, I don't know, since the utterly pathetic futility of whatever objectives they could discuss should be obvious. The issue has been decided already. Iraq must be partitioned. Iraqi Shiites don't have the power to suppress the Sunni insurgency, neither do the "Coalition" Forces which are currently playing Butch and Sundance in the streets of Baghdad, and the Bush Administration lacks the necessary credibility to partition Iraq. The Bush Administration had a single purpose in life: to secure Baghdad's oil for Jesus. Now it's time for the next phase, one which will require the body of a different host. Who will be the Messiah?
Exhibit C: Meet this month's Big Winner. On a couple of progressive blogs which shall remain nameless (except for their links over at the left, of course), I've sent people into a collective funk by using the word "Billary." They made me swear not to say it again in their presence, and I said, "Sure, but you don't have much time before you start hearing it a lot." This is because Hillary is beginning to represent a solution, or at least to proffer a Way Out. For example, she has what it takes to partition Iraq in a way which fully includes Iran. This would involve getting the EU, Russia, China, India, and Iran to sit down to talk about the raging three-headed wildebeest in the room, the US's horrible failure in Iraq. Which is the only way a partition can be successful enough so the West can keep slurping out the region's oil and mollify Turkey and the Saudis, amongst others. But wait, won't that mean Bill Clinton will be back in the Oval Office? Yes, it will, me Hordies. Yes it will. He'll be spanking the nether parts of nubile young interns as they lie across his lap (consensually of course) and rolling joints after midnight with Winona Ryder and Sharon Stone on the south lawn. The wingers in the US, betrayed by their designates and facing the specter of Billary, are about to go absolutely insane. Time to go consult that book about the madness of crowds.
Update: I'm not saying Hillary will win the '08 election. I'm saying the odds of it just increased from near-nil to 30-40%, and the Reich Wing is about to realize the significance of the shift. Once they do, you'll see so-called Christian ethics leap in action. You'll see evangelists speaking in tongues with flaming, rotating seraphim hovering over their heads like holy helicopters. Whereas the elites would be able to do business with Hillary just fine, and will look alot like that Persian cat snoozing by the fireplace.