Hoo boy. Now and then, when I lose emotional discipline and actually watch Bush, see him sneer and wink and look tough for press-conference cameras; or Cheney lurk like some monstrous slab of sociopathic suet behind Bush's shoulder. Or I stare at Rumsfeld's prissy fits of manically arrogant doubletalk (Is Rumsfeld clinically mad?-- burbling his nonsense on and on and on, waving his arthritic deathgrip hands?). Or I watch Condi stammer and stutter through her lies. Or I actually attend to statements by Dr. Formaldehyde Frist; or observe "genial" mouth-breathing witless Denny Hastert, that lying slanderizing thug --
At these times I fall to apoplectic musing, which I would like to share with you: Namely, besides impeachment and a one-way trip to the Hague, what else could properly express the fitting destiny these despicable soul-bewormed monstrosities deserve? And this is what I've come up with:
A nice, endless stretch of practical nursing in Iraqi hospitals.
I find a fierce comfort in the images: Cheney slumping along with another loaded bloody bedpan... Bush wiping bloody gunk out of some half blasted-away buttock... Rumsfeld trying to fix bandages on what once were limbs...
An endless succession of days and nights mopping and wiping in the bowels of the hell they brought to life with their lies, their arrogance, their stupidity, their perversions of power and greed.
And when I read about the MSNBC reporter who tsk-tsks Nancy Pelosi not to make our Pres's life miserable by doing some actual investigating of all the malfeasances involved in the "War on Terrror"... or I listen to the political newsletter guy on CSpan yesterday chuckling away the political thievery and thuggery of that Uber-power pervert Rosemary's Babyface Herr Rove as "There're always been shenanigans in politics" -- shenanigans! American democracy is being wrenched from its sockets and you say "shenanigans!"-- then I think, Well, here are some future practical nursing aides, to help out. Because, since much of the American press is doing absolute shit, at least let them try to wipe up some of it somewhere.
Somewhere where the rage and howling anguish at what they've made happen and allowed to happen, will darken their days and nights forever.
...Still think 30,000 is the credible number, George?
...How many American soldiers is it, again, bought the big ticket, Wolfie?
I believe I need a drink.
Cheers, to Nov.7.