Screaming overheard from behind a closed door at RNC headquarters: “There's shit everywhere! Dammit! Oh my God! My house is full of shit!
Yes...we have been a bit preoccupied with smells around here in recent days. It really can't be helped—as the olfactory offenses seem to just keep piling up—in alarming amounts for our dear, funkier-than-a-circa-'78-Parliament-concert-in-mid-August-in-a-blanket-walled-freight-elevator “friends” on the right. The last two weeks have been hellish for 'em. And much as I'd like to say we haven't been sitting here grabbing pretty Miss Schadenfreude's hand with every bed-shitting twist and turn, like an over-sugared teen at a horror flick—I just can't.
It has been fun. And actually quite stunning in its over-the-top awfulness.
It started with Karl Rove oozing his way out, like “The Blob” through an air vent. Was the exit via simple gravity...or aided with a little sphincter-push? Methinks it was a bit of both—“Karl-O's” common sense kicking in and hipping him to which way the wind was blowing—namely downwind from the neo-con pig farm, and also that “Star Chamber” GOP hierarchy flexing their muscle to ease “Mr. I-Have-The-Math” on out. Too many investigations. Too many little leaks in the dam.
Then, days later and down river a piece, another dam's cluster of leaks began to gout badly, and before you could turn around, it was “Bye-Bye Berto”, as Bush's devil doll of an AG booked up like a scalded, punk-ass dog.
“Anybody heeeere, seen my old friend Al? Can you tell me where he's go-oooone?”
The leprosy kicks in, and as Eddie Murphy said, “Parts start falling off a man.”
And a party.
Next would come Larry Craig's
potty pity party—that toe-tappin, “catchin' the clappin'”, tile-walled extravaganza that sent the GOP into a tizzy of hypocrisy—actual, publicly-discussed hypocrisy at that. The side effects? Swelling scandal, bleeding fundraising, itchy evangelicals, and terminal integrity leakage. Ewwwww.
And relegating their playing of the “values card” to lonely, midnight games of solitaire.
Virginia's John Warner decides to let that other shoe drop—the mate to the one he dangled off his wrinkled footsie on “Meet The Press” mere days before. And somewhere in Connecticut, Joe Lieberman's bladder spasmed just a little.
Chuck Hagel then looks hard at those gauzy, diaphanous “Unity '08” ideas—and then wakes up, startled in the GOP's flophouse of misery and checks outta the joint. Another Republican Senate seat goes up for grabs. The aforementioned place in Connecticut? It could use a mop now...and perhaps a fresh shpritz of Lysol to cut that...well, that ammonia stink.
Or perhaps a dab of the dazzling, new Eau Fred here n' there to cover things up? Mmmmmm...maybe not—especially after an out-of-the-gate embarassment like this one.
Freshly minted GOP White House hopeful Fred Thompson puzzled Iowans yesterday by insisting an Al Qaeda smoking ban was one reason freedom-loving Iraqis bolted to the U.S. side.
“They said, ‘You gotta quit smoking,’” Thompson explained to a questioner asking about progress in Iraq during a town hall-style meeting. […]
Thompson’s tale of a smokers’ revolt baffled some in the audience of about 150 who came to decide whether the former Tennessee senator is ready for prime time.
“I don’t know what that was about,”said Jim Moran, 72, who had driven from nearby McCook Lake, S.D.
When a 72-year old guy who's pre-disposed to be down with your Paw Rugg mumbling says of your major policy statement, ”I don’t know what that was about”, you have a big, fucking problem.
Then, ol' Bojangles Craig reared his “generous” head yet again, discombobulating his party and its leadership with his schizophrenic strategies in handling his situation. Coming or going? Coming or going? Going? Coming? “Sigh!”
Cap the fortnight off with a Presidential trip “down under”—“where Dubya goes and and P.R. blunders.”
“We're kickin' ass!”
And these classics via Maha:
President Bush’s performance at the APEC summit in Australia was really bad He said OPEC for APEC, confused Australia with Austria, and was clearly disoriented when he tried to get off the stage.
“Mr Prime Minister, thank you for your introduction,” he told Prime Minister John Howard. “Thank you for being such a fine host for the Opec summit .”
As the audience of several hundred people erupted in laughter, Mr Bush corrected himself and joked, ”He invited me to the Opec summit next year.”
Australia has never been a member of the Organisation of the Petroleum Exporting Countries.
Later in his speech, Mr Bush recounted how Mr Howard had gone to visit ”Austrian troops” last year in Iraq. There are, in fact, no Austrian troops there. But Australia has about 1,500 military personnel in and around the country.
Upon finishing his speech, the US president took the wrong way off-stage and, looking perplexed, had to be re-directed by Mr Howard to a centre-stage exit. But not before a veteran White House correspondent seized the opportunity to ask Mr Bush whether there had been any new message in his speech. Apparently misunderstanding the question, he bristled and asked, “Haven't you been listening to my past speeches?” before turning away.
And then today—Sunday, they showed Bush coming home from his whirlwind tour of the Southern Hemisphere. Coming down the steps of AF1 in the pre-dawn gloaming, the doddering fool was taken over by the spirit of Gerald Ford...
...and damn near fell down the jetway's steps. I shit you not.
Disarray. Just delicious, utter disarray from the right.
Six-and-a-half years of basically running the fucking table is what happened. The law of averages has jumped up with a nasty scrotal-bite and won't let go apparently until things go back into balance somewhat. A point we're seemingly nowhere near. There are those who say that Rove's pre-occupation with the Libby case distracted him to the point where he couldn't enforce message discipline and keep the GOP's troops in line.
This is bullshit.
Legal scrutiny of Karl Rove didn't IM pages for Mark Foley, or make David Vitter dress like a cornpone Baby Huey for kinky kicks, and it damn sure didn't put metal taps on Larry Craig's wingtips. These people have always been so. Hypocritical, high-horsed horndogs. The same crew that overextended themselves against Bill Clinton in '98 haven't learned a thing, as they watched the wheel come 'round once again, and got their naughty bits caught in the gears...a-gain.
It heartens me more than a little with the '08's coming up. The idea of wishing Joe Lieberman's influence as an asshole/power broker into the political cornfield puts a damn near rictus grin on my face...and yet...
We have clowns like Joe Biden, who if he was being pistol-whipped silly, and his assailant dropped the gat, would probably bend over, pick the damn thing up, and through a bleeding, broken mouth say “Oopsie!”, and hand the fucker back to him. Have mercy on the plug-headed simp.
When asked by host Tim Russert if he would vote to cut off funding for Iraq if President Bush refuses to accept a withdrawal date, Biden moves directly to the “cutting off funding means you don’t support the troops” mentality pulled straight from the pages of the RNC playbook. Instead of speaking the truth, that it means appropriating funds to begin a safe and smart withdrawal from the country, not abandoning out troops, Biden instead says he won’t vote to cut off funding and chooses to chastise Democrats who support it.
It’s infuriating to say the least to see Biden falling for the White House framing– not one single Democrat in Congress wants to leave our soldiers stranded in the middle of the desert with no food, water, ammo or protection–and cutting off Bush’s funding would not do that–and Senator Biden should know better.
Too many Dems have taken the old saw, “When your enemy is drowning, throw 'em an anvil”, and lazily morphed it into “When your enemy is drowning, stand around on the deck of your boat, watch him drown—and by the way, leave your engine off and drift, drift, drift onto the jagged fucking rocks.”
Enough! Of this ass-wiping of these babies. If they're laying in the gutter, no “Awww...baby faw down and go boom? Wemme help yoooouuu!” Keep on steppin' and kick 'em in the chest as you go by. Let their garbage pile up in front, let their weeds overgrow and their house sink into the muddy ground.
No life preservers. Big, honking, Wile E. Coyote anvils, please.
Just...let them fuck up while trying to save themselves. Because folks...they're doing a spectacular job of that already.
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