Sunday, January 28, 2007
Dick!
Delusional is far too mild a word to describe Dick Cheney. Delusional doesn’t begin to capture the profound, transcendental one-flew-over daftness of the man.
Has anyone in the history of the United States ever been so singularly wrong and misguided about such phenomenally important events and continued to insist he’s right in the face of overwhelming evidence to the contrary?
It requires an exquisite kind of lunacy to spend hundreds of billions destroying America’s reputation in the world, exhausting the U.S. military, failing to catch Osama, enhancing Iran’s power in the Middle East and sending American kids to train and arm Iraqi forces so they can work against American interests.
Only someone with an inspired alienation from reality could, under the guise of exorcising the trauma of Vietnam, replicate the trauma of Vietnam.
You must have a real talent for derangement to stay wrong every step of the way, to remain in complete denial about Iraq’s civil war, to have a total misunderstanding of Arab culture, to be completely oblivious to the American mood and to be absolutely blind to how democracy works.
In a democracy, when you run a campaign that panders to homophobia by attacking gay marriage and then your lesbian daughter writes a book about politics and decides to have a baby with her partner, you cannot tell Wolf Blitzer he’s “out of line” when he gingerly raises the hypocrisy of your position.
Has anyone in the history of the United States ever been so singularly wrong and misguided about such phenomenally important events and continued to insist he’s right in the face of overwhelming evidence to the contrary?
It requires an exquisite kind of lunacy to spend hundreds of billions destroying America’s reputation in the world, exhausting the U.S. military, failing to catch Osama, enhancing Iran’s power in the Middle East and sending American kids to train and arm Iraqi forces so they can work against American interests.
Only someone with an inspired alienation from reality could, under the guise of exorcising the trauma of Vietnam, replicate the trauma of Vietnam.
You must have a real talent for derangement to stay wrong every step of the way, to remain in complete denial about Iraq’s civil war, to have a total misunderstanding of Arab culture, to be completely oblivious to the American mood and to be absolutely blind to how democracy works.
In a democracy, when you run a campaign that panders to homophobia by attacking gay marriage and then your lesbian daughter writes a book about politics and decides to have a baby with her partner, you cannot tell Wolf Blitzer he’s “out of line” when he gingerly raises the hypocrisy of your position.
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Friday, January 12, 2007
Some Entirely Realistic Suggestions Following the Failures of the Quixotic "War on Drugs" and "War on Terror."
The War on Meter Maids
The War on Unpaired Socks
The War on Late DVD Rental Fees
The War on Teaspoons Left in the Sink
The War on Declaring Wars on Stateless Individuals and Ideologies Whose Very Nature Precludes There Ever Being an End to Said Conflicts
The War on Breeders
The War on Unpaired Socks
The War on Late DVD Rental Fees
The War on Teaspoons Left in the Sink
The War on Declaring Wars on Stateless Individuals and Ideologies Whose Very Nature Precludes There Ever Being an End to Said Conflicts
The War on Breeders
SITUATIONS IN WHICH I WOULD BE WILLING TO DIE A PREMATURE DEATH.
1.
I am the head of an organized-crime family. Many years ago, I had to order the murder of my best friend for business purposes, and I have been racked with guilt ever since. Unbeknownst to me, he had a son, who spent the next 30 years building a rival family and dreaming of revenge. He invites me to a sit-down, at which he reveals his identity and shoots me in the chest. My guilt now relieved by this poetic justice, I smile and whisper, "I'm glad it was you," as a single tear rolls down his cheek.
2.
I am stricken with an illness that is painless but terminal. I spend the remaining two years of my life imparting my wisdom to an old friend, who then writes a best-selling book about it. Critics agree that the book is much better than Tuesdays With Morrie, with all the poignancy but none of the insufferably schmaltzy prose.
3.
I am an evil villain whose plan for world conquest has been foiled by my longtime arch-nemesis, a handsome and resourceful government agent who is currently chasing me up a steep mountain. When we reach the top, I raise my hands and offer my surrender. As he approaches, I remind him that, in his obsessive quest to stop me, he has caused the deaths of hundreds of innocents. He was willing to do anything and hurt anyone to get what he wanted, I tell him, and, in that way, had he not become the same as me? As if to prove the point, we simultaneously reach for hidden knives and stab each other in the chest. As we both sink to our knees, I can see in his eyes that he appreciates the irony.
4.
The same as above, except I am the government agent. I appreciate the irony.
5.
Brendan Fraser offers to sleep with me, on the admittedly strange condition that he gets to kill me afterward. I immediately accept, and it is totally worth it.
6.
I have been unjustly accused of murder by a corrupt prosecutor. Everyone knows that the trial is rigged and that I am not guilty, but no one speaks up, and I am sentenced to death. At my execution, which for some reason is nationally broadcast, I am asked if I have any last words. With quiet dignity, I give a powerful speech about how the real murderer is Society, for allowing an innocent man to die. I am executed anyway, but everyone agrees that they've learned an important lesson, and my birthday remains a national holiday.
7.
I am a soldier stationed in Iraq, on a special mission to protect the president during one of his surprise visits to Baghdad. As I walk alongside him, I notice an IED a few feet away, and immediately realize it's about to detonate. I hurl my body in front of the president, just in time to absorb the brunt of the explosion. As I lie on the ground, my blood draining out of numerous wounds, the president, with tears in his eyes, asks me if there's anything he can do to repay me for my sacrifice. I softly whisper, "Tell the world what a terrible mistake this war was," and then I die, leaving him with an uncomfortable PR dilemma.
I am the head of an organized-crime family. Many years ago, I had to order the murder of my best friend for business purposes, and I have been racked with guilt ever since. Unbeknownst to me, he had a son, who spent the next 30 years building a rival family and dreaming of revenge. He invites me to a sit-down, at which he reveals his identity and shoots me in the chest. My guilt now relieved by this poetic justice, I smile and whisper, "I'm glad it was you," as a single tear rolls down his cheek.
2.
I am stricken with an illness that is painless but terminal. I spend the remaining two years of my life imparting my wisdom to an old friend, who then writes a best-selling book about it. Critics agree that the book is much better than Tuesdays With Morrie, with all the poignancy but none of the insufferably schmaltzy prose.
3.
I am an evil villain whose plan for world conquest has been foiled by my longtime arch-nemesis, a handsome and resourceful government agent who is currently chasing me up a steep mountain. When we reach the top, I raise my hands and offer my surrender. As he approaches, I remind him that, in his obsessive quest to stop me, he has caused the deaths of hundreds of innocents. He was willing to do anything and hurt anyone to get what he wanted, I tell him, and, in that way, had he not become the same as me? As if to prove the point, we simultaneously reach for hidden knives and stab each other in the chest. As we both sink to our knees, I can see in his eyes that he appreciates the irony.
4.
The same as above, except I am the government agent. I appreciate the irony.
5.
Brendan Fraser offers to sleep with me, on the admittedly strange condition that he gets to kill me afterward. I immediately accept, and it is totally worth it.
6.
I have been unjustly accused of murder by a corrupt prosecutor. Everyone knows that the trial is rigged and that I am not guilty, but no one speaks up, and I am sentenced to death. At my execution, which for some reason is nationally broadcast, I am asked if I have any last words. With quiet dignity, I give a powerful speech about how the real murderer is Society, for allowing an innocent man to die. I am executed anyway, but everyone agrees that they've learned an important lesson, and my birthday remains a national holiday.
7.
I am a soldier stationed in Iraq, on a special mission to protect the president during one of his surprise visits to Baghdad. As I walk alongside him, I notice an IED a few feet away, and immediately realize it's about to detonate. I hurl my body in front of the president, just in time to absorb the brunt of the explosion. As I lie on the ground, my blood draining out of numerous wounds, the president, with tears in his eyes, asks me if there's anything he can do to repay me for my sacrifice. I softly whisper, "Tell the world what a terrible mistake this war was," and then I die, leaving him with an uncomfortable PR dilemma.
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