Friday, December 29, 2006
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
A Tell-Tale Passing
With the sad passing of President Ford, we see yet again another passing of sorts; this one slightly more pathetic than sad: Chimpy trying to “pass” over his own blatant incompetence. But just like Edgar Allan Poe's "The Tell-Tale Heart" demonstrates, that which you suppress does come back to haunt you.
Perhaps I’m experiencing a synchronistic phenomenon here because just yesterday I finally started Frank Rich’s The Greatest Story Ever Sold, and in the first chapter, Rich lays out why Chimpy is no more qualified to do his job than, let’s say, Maggie Spellings is to do hers.
As Rich and others suggest, these past 5 Bush years ought to be dubbed The Age of Passing: Pretending to be the Very Thing You’re Not. You would think by this time that the White House spinzone would realize that we caught them at their game; but it looks like they’ve missed a pass or two in their now obvious attempts to score. Chimpy’s incompetence has grown so incredibly out of control and his defense mechanism of “passing” has become so fucking transparent, he’s beginning to parody himself. Poor Chimpy is just not that conscious, though, to recognize that he’s become a farce.
Just take a look at Chimpy’s highly ironic words about President Ford; they give new meaning to Freudian displacement. He praises Ford for his “integrity;” he mentions Ford’s pivotal role at the time for a nation that needed “healing;” he goes on to comment on how Ford led with “common sense” and “kind instincts;” and he even goes so far as to note how Ford helped the country through a “period of great turmoil and division.” I swear: these are his words, not mine. As I’ve mentioned before in my quest to be 1% more conscious: you can’t make this shit up. But you don’t have to hold a PhD in psychology or linguistics to realize that in this speech (and I’m sure in others) Chimpy is displacing and denying all over the place, attempting to “pass” by his own incompetence in his elegiac remarks on the passing of a former president.
The best part for me was that as I finished reading the speech, my 9 week old began screaming because she was apparently trying to “pass” gas. If only Chimpy would recognize that he’s so full of crap, the world would be a better place.
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Call me annoyed. Several weeks have passed and I still can’t help but marvel at Oedipus Lieberman, whom I’m officially renaming. Hey, renaming is as American as apple pie—Jay Gatz became Jay Gatsby; Marshall Mathers became Eminem; and hell, Hillary can’t decide if she is Hillary Clinton, Hillary Rodham Clinton, or Billary Clinton—a renaming that remains in abeyance.
It’s official: Oedipus Lieberman has morphed into Captain Ahab, another tragically fueled figure. In this unfolding novel of contemporary American foreign policy, Melville’s masterpiece certainly comes to mind because as we grapple with how to “catch” some sort of success in Iraq, the ubiquitous presence in the American psyche, it eludes us just like the whale-the ubiquitous presence in the novel—escapes mad Ahab. And Ahab’s as deranged as they come. So is Lieberman.
While many in our ship of state have fully realized that the leviathan Iraq is Apocalypse Now, not Apocalypse Later, not Apocalypse On Hold because we want to avert a Vietnam redux, Captain Lieberman, in his insatiable megalomania, cannot help himself. He wants more troops. He wants more troops even as Chimpy equivocates. He wants more troops albeit Dodd and others with far more experience in foreign relations and armed services have said we are past the point of no return. He wants more troops even though it’s relatively clear that there is no military solution to the Iraq quagmire.
But like the maimed Ahab who once wrestled with his nemesis and sustained a loss, Captain Lieberman, who survived a primary loss to seek revenge in the general, cannot let go of that which has brought him so much agony: Iraq. And let’s hope that there really doesn’t exist some sort of symbolic parallel here: Ahab couldn’t extricate himself from what tormented him, and thus we leave him dejectedly strapped to the monster that subsequently brings his ship and him down.
Saturday, December 16, 2006
What the hell is going with George H.W. Bush lately? Frankly, I’ve never had a problem with the man. As I’ve indicated many times before, I prefer his breed of martini-lunch, afternoon golf-playing, diplomatically prone Republican decorum to these asshole neocons. And I had jiminy cricket HIGH hopes that he would rescue us from his shithead of a son—chimpy. But the crying this week and the failure of the Iraq Study Group, the front for father Bush--let’s face it--to move chimpy to do something, has me deeply concerned that we are in the midst of the revenge of the siths, or, in our case: revenge of the shits. Daddy Bush’s latest display, in Japan of all places, involves a comment that indicated he would “beat the hell” out of Hillary should she run for the presidency. Now I know Hillary inspires homicidal tendencies, but come on now: have a martini or two. Chimpy must’ve REALLY fucked-up.
Friday, December 15, 2006
HOW ABOUT THIS FAMILY PHOTO? What a lovely group!
Something Wicked This Way Comes: Open, Locks, Whoever Knocks!
The tragic impulse in Macbeth launches into warp speed in ACT III. Duncan is long dead; Malcolm has bolted to England; Donalbain to Ireland. Macbeth realized he had to off Banquo, so he hires three thugs to do the deed. And he places servants—spies—in peoples’ houses. The Lady makes excuses for her man when, at a dinner, the ghost of Banquo looms only to scare the shit out of Macbeth. She wants the on-lookers to think one thing, when, in fact, something else is going on. Hecate, the goddess witch, appears and scolds her hags for their prophecies for Macbeth. Even the supernatural falls victim to the tragic impulse, which thunders vehemently toward more chaos, more corruption, more death, and more evil.
The tragic impulse in the Bush administration has escalated recently. Papa Bush and the paleo-conservative world of Republican diplomacy are symbolically dead. While Papa bolted to Florida to deliver a tribute to the favorite son, Jeb, Chimpy snubbed and smeared the council of elders—the Iraq study group. Scared shitless by the Papa Bush ghost, the W. posse realized they must off Baker III, consigliore extraordinaire, so they dispatched the echo chamber thugs to do the deed. While there has long been spying in Americans’ houses, we just don’t know whose houses and why because the NSA program still remains a “cloak & dagger” topic. The Lady made the lamest excuse of them all, blaming the media for Chimpy’s lower-than-Nixon approval ratings. Sadly, while Senator Johnson had a stroke, the political soothsayers speculated about the balance of power, who will actually run in 2008, and what we will hear in the change of course message Chimpy has postponed yet again to next year. The tragic impulse gains vigorous momentum as more chaos, more corruption—word has it that Abramoff is squealing like a pig in jail, more death, and more evil become abundantly apparent. Seeing George H.W. Bush cry was not only ample evidence enough, but, moreover, a haunting omen that something wicked this way may come, so bolt the locks to whatever knocks.
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
So as NASA reports that a black hole has swallowed a star, the renowned “Iraq Study Group” has released its report today that claims Iraq, once a potential star of the Middle East for its rich oil fields, has turned into a black hole. Is this new information?
Quite frankly, it seems as though the mainstream media, the punditry, and everyTom, Dick, and Nancy—yes, folks, let’s include Nancy because she will be the Speaker of House, has been having the same conversation for months. What do we do with Iraq? We can’t immediately pull out? We can’t stay forever? We don’t want to repeat the mistakes of the past—ah…Vietnam. But we want to secure a better future. After all, Democracy is on the march. It’s like a bad broken record, which just skips, skips and skips. And while the record carelessly skips, the more bodies pile up and up—theirs and ours. Can we move on to a different song?
Meanwhile, Chimpy has hit new lows in his torpor of denial—a black hole that requires a shrink, not an NASA astrophysicist. He and his goons continue to pars, to insist that things aren’t as bad as they seem, and to claim that everyone who questions them, let alone disagrees with them, is partisan. That that asshole Tony Snow went after David Gregory today for “framing” things in a partisan way is the height of hypocrisy…for this week. Who the hell knows what’s on the launch pad for next week? Perhaps the weapons of mass destruction, which are going to be sent to the moon.
What the “Iraq Study Group” has revealed is that there’s no clean exit from Iraq: whether we do it now or later. Freedom isn’t on the march. Civil War and sectarian violence escalate. Our troops are doing their best albeit reports now indicate that they need new supplies. And things simply look like…a black hole.
Back to the record skip: Is this new information? Haven’t we heard this all before? We are in desperate need for a new song, and not the same old tune.
The most resounding line from Sartre’s No Exit is “hell is other people.” The most hellish reality for America’s foreign policy: there’s simply no exit.