Imagine

IMAGINE

Geeze, what’s with all the temper tantrums lately? I mean, I kind of expect it from ol’ Chimpy; his facial expressions as of late look like a lolli-poopy fell out of his diaper or something. But now his entire posse seems to be reverting to their toddler years, holding their breaths, refusing to talk, mimicking—nah, nah, nana nah the free press, turning blue in the face, or kicking and screaming on the floor just to piss everybody off.

Chimpy, whom I’m convinced has yet to advance developmentally beyond a six year old, still believes he’s right and the world’s wrong with respect to his Iraq policy. Just listen to his recent speeches, which amount to a Freudian re-enactment of a child stuck in a negative attention-getting narcissism stage. One would think by now Chimpy would break free from his failed vision, but NO, NO, NO!

Of course bomb, bomb McCainy doesn’t help. He took to the senate floor today to rip apart a New York Times editorial. Man, short of pissing on the paper itself, McCain seemed like he was ready to stick his thumbs in his ears, stick out his tongue, and scream “f*ck you” to anyone who’d listen. Dirty Harry Miers had her temper tantrum in absentia. Taking a cue from her playgroup husband, Chimpy, she refused to testify under subpoena in front of the House Judiciary Committee.

And the White House, as a collective, colicky unit, had its tantrum du jour by trying to block—yeah—the bipartisan Iraq Study Group from meeting to find a solution to this war. Imagine that: imagine a group of bi-partisan adults coming together, examining and debating the war in an attempt to try to find a better way to deal with it AND GET OUR TROOPS OUT. Hey, call me dreamer but I know I’m not the only one.