Saudis Spite The Bush Administration
Meant to mention earlier; the Bush family may once have had a special relationship with the Saudis. If they did, it is over. A significance occurred on Bush's current debouch through the Mid-East, and I'm searching for the right English word to describe the Saudi response to his viagric exhortations to raise oil production; let's see, here...objurgate is too open; fustigate is getting better, but still too blunt; and I'm thinking animadvert is about right. It's a rare word, the verb form of animadversion, that most well-placed censorious or unfavorable comment. It approaches the oblique, aristocratic, Parthian-shottish elegance of their efficient insults.
The Saudi elites are the most polite of men, and they can afford to be. No one dares to mention, much less decry, their polygamy, their servants, nor their slaves except in praise. These men are proud men, they are rich and blood-connected, they run a feudal society; they are princes and know the locations of their thrones. So when the King and his family ministers pointedly and publicly say to their long-accustomed arms and security supplier who has begged twice, "We see no need to raise oil production," it should be noted.
The fact that they invoked rank and privilege on a loyal servant was completely lost on the Western Media. The New York Times byline said, Saudis Rebuff Bush, Politely, on Pumping More Oil. Politely? These people now control Citibank. Politely was running a poacher over the fence undead. Here, they showed Bush the unwashed soles of their feet at the feast, a no-no on par with pooping into someone's indoor potted fern, as I was once tempted to do so in a certain Senator's dining room and refrained out of pity for his intelligent, hip-to-his-tricks wife. She was human, and so kind to extend me his distant hospitality.
George W. Bush opened his trip to the Mid-East in a kneeling homage to the Israeli Knesset; Democrats and the media focused on his anti-appeasement remarks, choosing to flock like geese to Obama's needless defense. Diversion alert: Yo! Am I the only person trapped in these topographies, self-banished from my gods, who realizes what occurred? Teeth should have gnashed, clothing should have rent. George Bush's grandfathers financed the Nazis and armed their glabrous fingers from Brownshirt beginnings right on into the unspelunkable hellholes of WWII, and they got filthy rich.
The trusted executor of the resulting Bush estate, once grandpap died, was the former CEO of Standard Oil who confessed a no-contest-peccavi to the Trading With the Enemies Act in 1942. It was that man, their financial advisor, who had built the cracking station in 1940 at Auschwitz. (You in the Knesset, were some of you not there?? Did your fathers and mothers not have tattoos of blue? Did someone, anywhere, anyone who dwells amongst the drooling gollum-wallahs of our media do any homework, have any memory? No. So here it is proven, and I am so profoundly sorry: the value of history is negative.) I wish I had a river I could skate away on. I wish I had a river so long that I could teach my feet to glide.
The greater substance of what our Fetal Alchohol First Son read in his halting rote was mercifully more general than specific, unconditionally expressing infinite support for Israel against its enemies, now Myrmidon. I could never have enumerated every missile, tank, drone and jet, pick me up with sterile hands. In all probability every one of you, the brave readers who've made it this far, you're not terribly interested in the details, the ins and outs of the troublesome keystones of the Jewish-Arabic curtains and contentions. Or by extension, our jittering American-Muslim affairs.
I'm not neither. To summarize Palestine, the odds are long, the proposed scenarios are all shams, the negotiations are charades as satirical as 'Blazing Saddle' in the original Mel Brookish. (Stage, scene, intro: "If you don't get back right now, I'll kill the nigger! Now sing songs of joy and peace!") Imagine how the Arabs, the Iranians, the Iraqis, the Lebanse, the Pakistanis, the Malaysians and the Detroitians took in the actions, the speaking, and the words of our developmentally disabled envoy. While prostituting his office at the seat of imperial project Judah, it even offended the Israelis.
It didn't end there, and it's not going to. He travels to offend elsewhere. Probably my biggest regret is that I never had a classical education to better deal with the winds whistling down from these intellectual heights. George Bush absorbed more classics while he doodled, stamped his feet and closed his ears at Andover by twelve years old than I've breathed in my whole life. Those classics would've told me to be open, and learn to love what I don't know. The test is now, the test is mine and the sap is rising. And I still don't know why that son of a bitch chose to not stay home.