It couldn't be clearer now that the "fall" of David Petraeus is playing out as farce of the first order. What's less obvious is that Petraeus, America's military golden boy and Caesar of celebrity, was always smoke and mirrors, always the farce, even if the denizens of Washington didn't know it.
The President has been re-elected, the media circus has died down, and Nate Silver is digging up statistics on some new topic - the Petraeus affair, the Fiscal Cliff, the odds of Black Friday being moved to the week after Labor Day, perhaps? Ugh. So what's next for "the Greatest Nation on Earth"?
My fellow French citizens are looking under the sheets of your latest sex scandal thinking that, decidedly, we don't have the same values.
We need more Petraeus scandal. It can't be over yet. It just can't. We've got the fort in the South, MacDill Air Force Base. The two officers, Gens. Petraeus and Allen. The two women, Mmes Broadwell and Kelley.
Look -- having opinions is critical -- no one likes a waffling whinge. Having a POV at least gives you a place to begin a discussion and makes conversation interesting. But again -- how sure are you?
I'm just having a hard time taking Peggy Noonan seriously as someone who can credibly critique the self-promotion culture.
On our 100th show, Arianna and Mary debate the post-election Republican re-set and whether new GOP members should be required to watch not Patton but Lincoln. Then we discuss how Romney's sour gripes exposed himself as Mr. 1 percent + 47 percent which oddly equals exactly his final total of 48 percent.
This development raises an important question: Why would an educational institution want a military commander to lead it?
In my day, I've had crushes on pretty much every guy I looked up to, worked for or whose class I attended -- even the ones who looked like extras fromIronweed. There was no common denominator between them except for the fact that they all ran the show.
The revelations about General Allen, Mrs. Kelley, Eric Cantor and the inevitable disclosures of the enabling of the affair guarantee that this is just the tip of the iceberg for this story and the pain it brings.
Whenever a mess like the General David Petraeus affair blows up, I am asked by friends, acquaintances, students and journalists to handicap the state of play. The challenge is that no matter how hard I try, I'm lucky if I can get across one semi-cogent sound bite or bottom-line conclusion in most exchanges.
Seriously? Both political parties talking preemptive smack barely a week after the election. Partisan politics? Again? So soon? Not even time to catch our breath? For crum's sakes, give it a rest, you guys.
How awful, as we enter the great family fun season of sugar cookies, Charlie Brown and battered, beloved board games, to find ourselves suddenly flashing our hands in front of the kids' tender eyes to block them from the latest in the sordid franchise: Real Housewives of Military Bases.
When the match that lights an affair strikes, it tends to strike at work.
We are intolerant of affairs, we North American Puritans. We are not French. This, despite the fact that, statistically, most of us will find themselves inhabiting at least one corner of a love triangle sometime in our lives.
Much of the reporting on now-former CIA Director David Petraeus has been filled with factual detail. But a piece on the front page of the same day's Boston Globe, modeled another side of journalism -- the ugly practice of protecting anonymous cheap shots.