Host: “Good evening. Our guest tonight is Norb Maybite, who’s heading up a drive to replace Arnold Schwarzenegger’s stadium. Norb, could you fill us in on what’s behind this campaign you’ve launched?”
Guest: “Sure thing, Mel. The situation, in a nutshell, is this. Some folks back in Arnie’s hometown, Graz, Austria, got upset when Arnie pulled the plug on ‘Tookie’ Williams. Over there in Europe, a lot of folks think there’s something wrong with killing people in cold blood, even when it’s state sanctioned.
“So the way it developed, the people in Graz were gonna pull Arnie’s name off the stadium they had named in his honor earlier. That would have been pretty embarrassing for the guv, so he beat ‘em to the punch and demanded they take his name off. But that leaves Arnie without a stadium.”
Host: “Are you saying you think people in Austria are out of touch with California values, Norb?”
Guest: “You bet your life. Over here, it’s just not justice unless there’s a body to show you mean business.”
Host: “What kind of stadium are we talking about, Norb?”
Guest: “Well, the one in Graz was a nice little fifteen-thousand seater. What we’d like to do is get him a stadium on more of an American scale, say an eighty- to a hundred-thousand seater.”
Host: “Are we talking about a new stadium here, Norb, or a used one?”
Guest: “The problem with a new stadium, Mel, is the construction time. We’d like something where we could stage major events within, oh, the next six months. We think we could get a reconditioned stadium with a five-year warranty for less than half the price of a new one. It’d be suitable for religious revivals, right-wing rantfests, things of that nature, and if you rented it out for weddings and other sports events, it would practically pay for itself.”
Host: “I don’t know if you can talk about it at this stage, but do you have any prospects in mind?”
Guest: “It’s no secret, Mel, that we’re in negotiations with the Rose Bowl folks. That’s a nice stadium, got a good tradition we could tap into, a huge upside.”
Host” “That’s pretty exciting stuff. If you can swing the deal, what kinds of changes do you have in mind?”
Guest: “We’d like to get beyond the premise they started with there in Graz. I mean, trying to capitalize on a guy’s fame just because he juiced up some huge biceps? Come on! Whatya have here now is a guy with life and death power over people!”
Host: “If you get the Rose Bowl, you’re not gonna rename it with one of those ridiculous drawn-out names like those dot.com bowls, are you? Something like ‘The Arnold Schwarzenegger Pro-Lethal-Injection Death Bowl’?”
Guest: “No way. Arnie has too much media savvy for anything like that. He knows the public gets turned off by long names.”
Host: “Is there anything to rumors the stadium might be used to stage public executions?”
Guest: “I think it’s premature to speculate on that right now, Mel. But there’s a huge untapped market out there for that kind of event. And if the public pays for ‘em, I say the public has a right to see ‘em.”
Host: “Have you thought about gladiators, lions, martyrs, that kind of thing?”
Guest: “Nothing firm. We’ve kicked it around a bit. As the empire takes shape, it makes a crazy kind of historical sense. But we don’t want to turn this whole thing into some kind of costume drama.”
Host: “What about the political pressures on the governor, Norb?”
Guest: “Oh, there’s no doubt he’s feeling the heat. The whole pro-life wing of the Republican party is gung-ho for the death penalty. People in Graz have to understand the concept of appeasing your base.”
Host: “I’m not sure what you’re saying here, Norb.”
Guest: “I’m saying that to breathe some life into his political career, he had to snuff out ‘Tookie’ Williams. It’s tough, but that’s the price you’ve got to pay in politics.”
Host: “Actually, it looks as if ‘Tookie’ Williams had to pay the price for him.”
Guest: “Whatever.”
Host: “Gosh, it’s been fascinating, but it looks like our time is almost up. I want to wish you good luck on your stadium project. One last question before we go: Can we look forward to more executions?”
Guest: “Hey, is Arnold the Terminator, or ain’t he?”
- Tony Russell, 2006
Thursday, January 12, 2006
Monday, January 09, 2006
“Adding an Auction Chamber”
“Ace, why bother coming to Washington during the Christmas break?” complained Patty. “Nobody’s here. They’ve all gone home for the holidays.”
Patty’s a little slow sometimes, but I try to be patient with her. “Of course,” I said. “That’s the point. Everybody’s gone, so you don’t have all the traffic, all the crowds, the standing in line.”
She gritted her teeth, which ought to be worn down to nubbins by now. “The reason there are no crowds, Ace, is there’s nothing to see. Congress is shut down. The circus has left town.”
She was wrong.
We arrived at the Capitol, and the place was a madhouse. Panel trucks and pickups parked everywhere, workmen scurrying, extension cords tangled and stretching in all directions. I grabbed a guy in coveralls who looked as if he’d been finishing drywall. “Hey, what’s going on?” I inquired.
“Rush construction project,” he grunted. “Gotta get it done before the bigwigs roll back in.”
“What is it?” I asked. “New security measures for the Congress? I know terrorism is their top priority.”
“You’ve got it,” he said. “It’s all about financial security for the members of Congress. They’re terrified an opportunity will pass them by. We’re installing an auction chamber for the House and Senate. It’s gonna be official now: government to the highest bidder.”
“Say,” I said, “Patty here loves auctions. She picked up my vibrating recliner when she was at an auction last October. Got it for twenty-five bucks, and it had to be worth twice that much! Any chance she could sit in and bid on whatever comes up?”
“I doubt it,” he said. “The way I understand it, it’s a closed deal, only open to lobbyists. There’s probably nothing going up for auction she’d want anyway—it’s just the Congress members’ votes and influence.”
“I’ll bet you could still pick up some bargains,” I grumped.
“Sure you can,” he admitted. “These energy conglomerates and pharmaceutical companies generate billions in profits from loopholes and favored treatment they worm out of Congress, and they get those things for a pittance. Corporations have been able to buy a bill for less than they spend in a week on advertising.”
“Why do they need an auction chamber?” I asked. “I thought Congresspeople were making out pretty well with the current system.”
“It’s this Abramoff scandal,” he said. “A lot of them have been embarrassed into giving their payoffs to charity, so they ended up selling their votes for nothing. It’s got them all upset. And then, when the figures started coming out in the papers, some members got really ticked. They’d been pricing their votes as low as five thousand bucks. That’s not even enough to buy a good used car.
“Now they learn there were other members getting $60,000 a pop. Conrad Burns got $150,000 from Abramoff, his associates and tribal clients. When the other members heard how they’d been shortchanged, it just undermined their faith in the whole system.”
“No wonder,” I said. “So putting in an auction chamber is a bid for fairness, so to speak.”
“Sure,” he said. “That way, everybody gets an equal shot at it. It’s one of the reform measures pushed through by the Republican leadership.”
“Will they have the know-how to make it work?” I asked.
“In some ways the process is already pretty much in place,” he said, “but a lot of them have signed up for a quickie course in auctioneering over the break.”
“Won’t all of this drive up the price of government?” worried Patty.
“That’s the whole idea,” said the drywaller.
“Do you think you’ll get finished on time?”
“Looks like it,” he said, “the way everybody’s pitchin’ in. Some of the members and their staff even came back to help.”
“I thought that guy over there looked familiar,” said Patty, pointing.
He glanced to his right. “The guy with the hammer?” he asked. “That’s Tom DeLay. He’s the architect for this project, but he’s always willing to pitch in and bend a few nails.”
© Tony Russell, 2006
Patty’s a little slow sometimes, but I try to be patient with her. “Of course,” I said. “That’s the point. Everybody’s gone, so you don’t have all the traffic, all the crowds, the standing in line.”
She gritted her teeth, which ought to be worn down to nubbins by now. “The reason there are no crowds, Ace, is there’s nothing to see. Congress is shut down. The circus has left town.”
She was wrong.
We arrived at the Capitol, and the place was a madhouse. Panel trucks and pickups parked everywhere, workmen scurrying, extension cords tangled and stretching in all directions. I grabbed a guy in coveralls who looked as if he’d been finishing drywall. “Hey, what’s going on?” I inquired.
“Rush construction project,” he grunted. “Gotta get it done before the bigwigs roll back in.”
“What is it?” I asked. “New security measures for the Congress? I know terrorism is their top priority.”
“You’ve got it,” he said. “It’s all about financial security for the members of Congress. They’re terrified an opportunity will pass them by. We’re installing an auction chamber for the House and Senate. It’s gonna be official now: government to the highest bidder.”
“Say,” I said, “Patty here loves auctions. She picked up my vibrating recliner when she was at an auction last October. Got it for twenty-five bucks, and it had to be worth twice that much! Any chance she could sit in and bid on whatever comes up?”
“I doubt it,” he said. “The way I understand it, it’s a closed deal, only open to lobbyists. There’s probably nothing going up for auction she’d want anyway—it’s just the Congress members’ votes and influence.”
“I’ll bet you could still pick up some bargains,” I grumped.
“Sure you can,” he admitted. “These energy conglomerates and pharmaceutical companies generate billions in profits from loopholes and favored treatment they worm out of Congress, and they get those things for a pittance. Corporations have been able to buy a bill for less than they spend in a week on advertising.”
“Why do they need an auction chamber?” I asked. “I thought Congresspeople were making out pretty well with the current system.”
“It’s this Abramoff scandal,” he said. “A lot of them have been embarrassed into giving their payoffs to charity, so they ended up selling their votes for nothing. It’s got them all upset. And then, when the figures started coming out in the papers, some members got really ticked. They’d been pricing their votes as low as five thousand bucks. That’s not even enough to buy a good used car.
“Now they learn there were other members getting $60,000 a pop. Conrad Burns got $150,000 from Abramoff, his associates and tribal clients. When the other members heard how they’d been shortchanged, it just undermined their faith in the whole system.”
“No wonder,” I said. “So putting in an auction chamber is a bid for fairness, so to speak.”
“Sure,” he said. “That way, everybody gets an equal shot at it. It’s one of the reform measures pushed through by the Republican leadership.”
“Will they have the know-how to make it work?” I asked.
“In some ways the process is already pretty much in place,” he said, “but a lot of them have signed up for a quickie course in auctioneering over the break.”
“Won’t all of this drive up the price of government?” worried Patty.
“That’s the whole idea,” said the drywaller.
“Do you think you’ll get finished on time?”
“Looks like it,” he said, “the way everybody’s pitchin’ in. Some of the members and their staff even came back to help.”
“I thought that guy over there looked familiar,” said Patty, pointing.
He glanced to his right. “The guy with the hammer?” he asked. “That’s Tom DeLay. He’s the architect for this project, but he’s always willing to pitch in and bend a few nails.”
© Tony Russell, 2006
Thursday, January 05, 2006
“One Branch Too Many”
I fear the vermin that shall undermine
Senate and citadel and school and shrine—
The Worm of Greed, the fatted Worm of Ease,
And all the crawling progeny of these—
The vermin that shall honeycomb the towers
And walls of State in unsuspecting hours.
- Edwin Markham, “I Fear for Thee, My Country,” quoted
by Sen. Robert Byrd in Losing America
In a development that came as no surprise to Washington insiders, Congressional leaders announced this morning that they would not be returning to the capital after the holiday recess.
Standing on the White House lawn and flanked by President Bush and Vice President Cheney, House Majority Leader Dennis Hastert said, “It has become obvious over the past few years that three branches of government are at least one too many. The executive branch, led by this President, has proven itself willing and perfectly able to operate without input from the Congress.” His next line drew good-natured laughs from reporters and White House staffers. “You have to know when it’s time to go,” he said. “Personally, I’d rather play a few rubbers of bridge than serve as a rubber stamp.”
Speaking off the record, Rep. Bob Ney (R-Ohio) made the same point, though in blunter terms. “We give the thumbs up to whatever Bush and Rove want anyway, so what’s the point of attending all these committee meetings, hearings, and sessions? I’d rather be watching NASCAR.”
Sen. Jay Rockefeller (D-WV), who earlier had said that he was not qualified to make a technical judgment as to whether disbanding Congress was “the appropriate step to take,” said only that he was concerned whether needy members of Congress would still be able to draw a government check if they were no longer performing any work. He suggested that there might well be a legal distinction between simply not doing anything useful and officially shutting down a branch of government.
Senate leader Bill Frist (R-Tenn), noting that the President has taken upon himself the power to attack other nations at his will; the authority to ignore the Geneva Conventions; the ability to detain citizens without charge or legal representation for as long as he chooses; the right to spy on any American citizen he designates despite specific federal legislation forbidding it, and without seeking permission from the courts; and the power to torture at his discretion despite a Congressional prohibition of such acts, urged the federal judiciary to abolish itself as well.
“When you stop and think about it,” said Frist, “it’s inefficient to have nine Supreme Court justices arguing over issues when the President can handle them alone.” Frist added that “Getting rid of the Court would eliminate many long, frustrating delays. The President really doesn’t need the courts to tell him what’s constitutional. He already decides those matters on his own, or asks his Attorney General to devise justifications for any action he chooses.”
Rep. Tom DeLay (R-TX) called on the judiciary to follow the lead of Congress immediately, saying “We came into office on a platform of reducing the size of government, and eliminating two of its three main branches would be a huge step in fulfilling that pledge.”
Asked if these changes would require amendments to various portions of the Constitution, Sen. Rockefeller said that, although he lacked the training to offer a competent legal opinion on the matter, it was his feeling that the President’s habit of simply ignoring those portions of the Constitution which he finds irksome probably renders the matter moot. “After all,” he said, “the Constitution isn’t self-enforcing. If the President chooses to override provisions of the Constitution, who’s going to make him stop? I can’t find it in my job description.”
The morning’s festivities were capped when the President read a message he described as a “belated Christmas gift”—a blanket pardon to all members of Congress, as well as their current and former staffers, for any and all crimes they might have committed while in office. White House press secretary Scott McClellan later insisted that there was no “quid pro quo” linking the two announcements.
Mr. Bush said he spoke for a grateful nation in thanking members of Congress for their many years in Washington. “You have made your mark,” he declared, “leaving the country dramatically different from the one you inherited when you came into office.”
The celebratory mood of the occasion was marred only briefly when a pale and shaken Sen. Robert Byrd (also D-WV) attempted to grab the microphone, and was removed from the grounds by Secret Service agents. Byrd’s wife and friends are reportedly unable to locate the elderly solon, but rumors have him en route to a vacation of indeterminate length in an undisclosed country of the former eastern bloc—possibly Poland or Rumania.
© Tony Russell, 2006
Senate and citadel and school and shrine—
The Worm of Greed, the fatted Worm of Ease,
And all the crawling progeny of these—
The vermin that shall honeycomb the towers
And walls of State in unsuspecting hours.
- Edwin Markham, “I Fear for Thee, My Country,” quoted
by Sen. Robert Byrd in Losing America
In a development that came as no surprise to Washington insiders, Congressional leaders announced this morning that they would not be returning to the capital after the holiday recess.
Standing on the White House lawn and flanked by President Bush and Vice President Cheney, House Majority Leader Dennis Hastert said, “It has become obvious over the past few years that three branches of government are at least one too many. The executive branch, led by this President, has proven itself willing and perfectly able to operate without input from the Congress.” His next line drew good-natured laughs from reporters and White House staffers. “You have to know when it’s time to go,” he said. “Personally, I’d rather play a few rubbers of bridge than serve as a rubber stamp.”
Speaking off the record, Rep. Bob Ney (R-Ohio) made the same point, though in blunter terms. “We give the thumbs up to whatever Bush and Rove want anyway, so what’s the point of attending all these committee meetings, hearings, and sessions? I’d rather be watching NASCAR.”
Sen. Jay Rockefeller (D-WV), who earlier had said that he was not qualified to make a technical judgment as to whether disbanding Congress was “the appropriate step to take,” said only that he was concerned whether needy members of Congress would still be able to draw a government check if they were no longer performing any work. He suggested that there might well be a legal distinction between simply not doing anything useful and officially shutting down a branch of government.
Senate leader Bill Frist (R-Tenn), noting that the President has taken upon himself the power to attack other nations at his will; the authority to ignore the Geneva Conventions; the ability to detain citizens without charge or legal representation for as long as he chooses; the right to spy on any American citizen he designates despite specific federal legislation forbidding it, and without seeking permission from the courts; and the power to torture at his discretion despite a Congressional prohibition of such acts, urged the federal judiciary to abolish itself as well.
“When you stop and think about it,” said Frist, “it’s inefficient to have nine Supreme Court justices arguing over issues when the President can handle them alone.” Frist added that “Getting rid of the Court would eliminate many long, frustrating delays. The President really doesn’t need the courts to tell him what’s constitutional. He already decides those matters on his own, or asks his Attorney General to devise justifications for any action he chooses.”
Rep. Tom DeLay (R-TX) called on the judiciary to follow the lead of Congress immediately, saying “We came into office on a platform of reducing the size of government, and eliminating two of its three main branches would be a huge step in fulfilling that pledge.”
Asked if these changes would require amendments to various portions of the Constitution, Sen. Rockefeller said that, although he lacked the training to offer a competent legal opinion on the matter, it was his feeling that the President’s habit of simply ignoring those portions of the Constitution which he finds irksome probably renders the matter moot. “After all,” he said, “the Constitution isn’t self-enforcing. If the President chooses to override provisions of the Constitution, who’s going to make him stop? I can’t find it in my job description.”
The morning’s festivities were capped when the President read a message he described as a “belated Christmas gift”—a blanket pardon to all members of Congress, as well as their current and former staffers, for any and all crimes they might have committed while in office. White House press secretary Scott McClellan later insisted that there was no “quid pro quo” linking the two announcements.
Mr. Bush said he spoke for a grateful nation in thanking members of Congress for their many years in Washington. “You have made your mark,” he declared, “leaving the country dramatically different from the one you inherited when you came into office.”
The celebratory mood of the occasion was marred only briefly when a pale and shaken Sen. Robert Byrd (also D-WV) attempted to grab the microphone, and was removed from the grounds by Secret Service agents. Byrd’s wife and friends are reportedly unable to locate the elderly solon, but rumors have him en route to a vacation of indeterminate length in an undisclosed country of the former eastern bloc—possibly Poland or Rumania.
© Tony Russell, 2006
Monday, January 02, 2006
“Any Day with My Grandbaby”
The minister at Rah’s funeral said to look at your life as a book and stop wasting pages complaining, worrying, and gossiping. That’s some deep shit right there.
- Allen Iverson
The streets of downtown Hur were jammed with post-holiday pedestrians. It was that peculiar week after Christmas when shopping slips into reverse gear, and everybody hauls back the presents somebody lugged out the week before. It reminds me of a film running in reverse, watching shoppers leave their cars and carry goods back into the stores, where clerks take money out of their registers and put it back into the customers’ hands, and then other clerks put the merchandise back on shelves.
Most people wore a frown of single-minded fatigue as they queued up at customer service counters, but one face in the store looked out of place. Eileen was wearing a smile so broad it put the sun to shame. Even frazzled people around her looked tinted by its glow.
“What’s got you feeling so fine?” I asked. Eileen and I have been friends for years, close enough that each other’s troubles are as familiar as a home-cooked meal.
“It’s that new grandson, “ she said. “Any day with my grandbaby in it is a beautiful day.”
I hesitated for a minute. Were we talking about the same baby?
“Uh, is this Lisa’s baby we’re talking about?” I asked.
“That’s him,” she said. “Little Emmanuel. He’s just precious.”
Lisa was a lovely girl, talented and bright, but always a bit of a wild child. She drank, got caught up in drugs, left Hur, went to the big city, survived in ways nobody wanted to discuss, slept around, and had hitchhiked home for the holidays.
Eileen pulled out a picture. “Look,” she said. “Isn’t he beautiful?”
He was beautiful. Lots of curly hair, an olive complexion, dark eyes, and the same smile Eileen was wearing. “Did he get that smile from you, or did you get it from him?” I joked.
“Oh, it’s mutual,” she said. “We give it to each other.”
“And his father…?” I said hesitantly.
“Your guess is as good as Lisa’s,” Eileen said. Rock solid.
“Not exactly an immaculate conception,” I ventured.
She shrugged. “You’ve seen plenty of parents and their kids. Different in ways you couldn’t possibly have imagined. It’s all part of the mystery.”
“Lisa is HIV positive,” I said quietly. “What about the baby?”
“We don’t know yet,” she said.
“Are you worried?” Sometimes I seem to specialize in stupid questions. But ‘Stupid questions are the sieve we use to pan for gold,’ according to Patty.
“Ace,” she said, “have you ever been walking along, your head busy with scheming and stewing, and then suddenly looked up at the mountains and vast sky, and thought, ‘What in the world am I doing? How is it even possible to forget this?’”
“All the time,” I admitted. “The last time was about fifteen minutes ago.”
“So should I spend my time with my grandson worrying myself sick, or should I enjoy him every minute I can?” she asked.
“Sometimes it doesn’t feel as if you have a choice. How can you help not worrying or being afraid?”
“I think of each moment as forever,” she said. “This is all there is.”
- Tony Russell, 2006
- Allen Iverson
The streets of downtown Hur were jammed with post-holiday pedestrians. It was that peculiar week after Christmas when shopping slips into reverse gear, and everybody hauls back the presents somebody lugged out the week before. It reminds me of a film running in reverse, watching shoppers leave their cars and carry goods back into the stores, where clerks take money out of their registers and put it back into the customers’ hands, and then other clerks put the merchandise back on shelves.
Most people wore a frown of single-minded fatigue as they queued up at customer service counters, but one face in the store looked out of place. Eileen was wearing a smile so broad it put the sun to shame. Even frazzled people around her looked tinted by its glow.
“What’s got you feeling so fine?” I asked. Eileen and I have been friends for years, close enough that each other’s troubles are as familiar as a home-cooked meal.
“It’s that new grandson, “ she said. “Any day with my grandbaby in it is a beautiful day.”
I hesitated for a minute. Were we talking about the same baby?
“Uh, is this Lisa’s baby we’re talking about?” I asked.
“That’s him,” she said. “Little Emmanuel. He’s just precious.”
Lisa was a lovely girl, talented and bright, but always a bit of a wild child. She drank, got caught up in drugs, left Hur, went to the big city, survived in ways nobody wanted to discuss, slept around, and had hitchhiked home for the holidays.
Eileen pulled out a picture. “Look,” she said. “Isn’t he beautiful?”
He was beautiful. Lots of curly hair, an olive complexion, dark eyes, and the same smile Eileen was wearing. “Did he get that smile from you, or did you get it from him?” I joked.
“Oh, it’s mutual,” she said. “We give it to each other.”
“And his father…?” I said hesitantly.
“Your guess is as good as Lisa’s,” Eileen said. Rock solid.
“Not exactly an immaculate conception,” I ventured.
She shrugged. “You’ve seen plenty of parents and their kids. Different in ways you couldn’t possibly have imagined. It’s all part of the mystery.”
“Lisa is HIV positive,” I said quietly. “What about the baby?”
“We don’t know yet,” she said.
“Are you worried?” Sometimes I seem to specialize in stupid questions. But ‘Stupid questions are the sieve we use to pan for gold,’ according to Patty.
“Ace,” she said, “have you ever been walking along, your head busy with scheming and stewing, and then suddenly looked up at the mountains and vast sky, and thought, ‘What in the world am I doing? How is it even possible to forget this?’”
“All the time,” I admitted. “The last time was about fifteen minutes ago.”
“So should I spend my time with my grandson worrying myself sick, or should I enjoy him every minute I can?” she asked.
“Sometimes it doesn’t feel as if you have a choice. How can you help not worrying or being afraid?”
“I think of each moment as forever,” she said. “This is all there is.”
- Tony Russell, 2006
Thursday, December 22, 2005
“A Hell of an Idea”
The Inferno, December 22 –
It was time for the shift change in the furnace room. “How’d it go?“ asked Modoc, who was just coming on.
“I don’t know,” said Belial, the group leader he was replacing. “Maybe I’m getting too old for this shift. Century after century, the same old shift. Make sure the rotisseries keep turning, baste the clients on the half hour… I’ll be glad when this batch moves on to the waterboard. You won’t hear all that whining about people being thirsty after the first few minutes of being tilted downward, their faces covered with plastic, while heavy streams of water pour into their mouths and noses.”
“Well I’ve got something that will improve your mood,” chortled Modoc. “Did you hear about the Boss’s new gimmick?”
“I got a hot tip,” said Belial. “Isn’t it beautiful? Absolutely fiendish!” The tip of his forked tail quivered like a cat’s when it’s stroked.
“You’ve got to give the Boss credit. He knows a good idea when he comes across one, and he’s not afraid to swipe it,” said Modoc admiringly.
“Hey, I’ve always given the Boss credit for stealing!”
“Sure, sure. No offense meant.”
“Spreading the story we don’t torture in Hell! Isn’t that a hoot?!” Belial gave an evil smile. “How’s he gonna work it?”
“He’s paid some columnists to write the stories and bribed some papers to run them,” said Modoc.
“A page from the Bush administration! All the news that’s fit to plant! What happens then?”
“He says there are plenty of fools out there who’ll read them and figure they’re got a blank check to do anything their shriveled souls desire. Why not launch a war? Or bomb civilians? Or poison the landscape with uranium? Or sell government to the highest bidder? There won’t be hell to pay because we don’t ‘torture’ any more.”
“That’s what I can’t figure out. The Boss always keeps his end of the bargain. But you’d better read the fine print with a microscope before you sign on the dotted line. What’s the catch this time?”
“It’s so simple you’ll wish you’d thought of it. He’s just redefined ‘torture’ in a way that allows us to do almost anything we want.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. What’s his definition of torture?”
“’Interrogation methods severe enough to cause organ failure or death.’”
“The Devil you say! That’s it? Anything else is fair game?”
“Anything!”
“So we can still roast people over fires? And waterboard them? And pull out their fingernails? And pierce their eardrums with needles? And drill holes in their teeth with no anesthetic? And hit them in the mouth with a hammer? And force them to stay in agonizing positions for days on end? And attach electric wires to their nipples and testicles? And wake them every twenty minutes? And piss on their Bibles and Korans? The full works?”
“That’s the beauty of it. Do any of those things cause organ failure or death?—not that death is an issue here. They just hurt like hell.”
“Well, that’s the idea, isn’t it? So we just keep on torturing the same as we always have, but it’s not ‘torture’ anymore because of the definition. That’s a hell of an idea!”
“And since everybody here is already dead…”
“The depth’s the limit! How in Hades did he come up with that definition?”
“You know damned well where he got it! The same place he’s been getting all those other neat ideas: W, Vice, and Rummy. Aren’t they a hell of a team? The President got his own lawyer, Alberto Gonzalez, to sign off on this one.”
“Are you sure this wasn’t the Boss’s idea to begin with?”
“Give these guys some credit, will you. Listen, if we don’t watch it, they’ll have our jobs. They came up with this one all on their own.”
“But he’s planted ideas with them before….”
“Oh sure. The tax breaks for the rich to steal from the poor. The Patriot Act to invade people’s private lives. The campaign of lies to invade Iraq. He’s given them a ton of ideas.”
“How does he do it?”
“Nothing to it. He just whispers in the President’s ear, and the President thinks it’s a message from God!”
© Tony Russell, 2005
It was time for the shift change in the furnace room. “How’d it go?“ asked Modoc, who was just coming on.
“I don’t know,” said Belial, the group leader he was replacing. “Maybe I’m getting too old for this shift. Century after century, the same old shift. Make sure the rotisseries keep turning, baste the clients on the half hour… I’ll be glad when this batch moves on to the waterboard. You won’t hear all that whining about people being thirsty after the first few minutes of being tilted downward, their faces covered with plastic, while heavy streams of water pour into their mouths and noses.”
“Well I’ve got something that will improve your mood,” chortled Modoc. “Did you hear about the Boss’s new gimmick?”
“I got a hot tip,” said Belial. “Isn’t it beautiful? Absolutely fiendish!” The tip of his forked tail quivered like a cat’s when it’s stroked.
“You’ve got to give the Boss credit. He knows a good idea when he comes across one, and he’s not afraid to swipe it,” said Modoc admiringly.
“Hey, I’ve always given the Boss credit for stealing!”
“Sure, sure. No offense meant.”
“Spreading the story we don’t torture in Hell! Isn’t that a hoot?!” Belial gave an evil smile. “How’s he gonna work it?”
“He’s paid some columnists to write the stories and bribed some papers to run them,” said Modoc.
“A page from the Bush administration! All the news that’s fit to plant! What happens then?”
“He says there are plenty of fools out there who’ll read them and figure they’re got a blank check to do anything their shriveled souls desire. Why not launch a war? Or bomb civilians? Or poison the landscape with uranium? Or sell government to the highest bidder? There won’t be hell to pay because we don’t ‘torture’ any more.”
“That’s what I can’t figure out. The Boss always keeps his end of the bargain. But you’d better read the fine print with a microscope before you sign on the dotted line. What’s the catch this time?”
“It’s so simple you’ll wish you’d thought of it. He’s just redefined ‘torture’ in a way that allows us to do almost anything we want.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. What’s his definition of torture?”
“’Interrogation methods severe enough to cause organ failure or death.’”
“The Devil you say! That’s it? Anything else is fair game?”
“Anything!”
“So we can still roast people over fires? And waterboard them? And pull out their fingernails? And pierce their eardrums with needles? And drill holes in their teeth with no anesthetic? And hit them in the mouth with a hammer? And force them to stay in agonizing positions for days on end? And attach electric wires to their nipples and testicles? And wake them every twenty minutes? And piss on their Bibles and Korans? The full works?”
“That’s the beauty of it. Do any of those things cause organ failure or death?—not that death is an issue here. They just hurt like hell.”
“Well, that’s the idea, isn’t it? So we just keep on torturing the same as we always have, but it’s not ‘torture’ anymore because of the definition. That’s a hell of an idea!”
“And since everybody here is already dead…”
“The depth’s the limit! How in Hades did he come up with that definition?”
“You know damned well where he got it! The same place he’s been getting all those other neat ideas: W, Vice, and Rummy. Aren’t they a hell of a team? The President got his own lawyer, Alberto Gonzalez, to sign off on this one.”
“Are you sure this wasn’t the Boss’s idea to begin with?”
“Give these guys some credit, will you. Listen, if we don’t watch it, they’ll have our jobs. They came up with this one all on their own.”
“But he’s planted ideas with them before….”
“Oh sure. The tax breaks for the rich to steal from the poor. The Patriot Act to invade people’s private lives. The campaign of lies to invade Iraq. He’s given them a ton of ideas.”
“How does he do it?”
“Nothing to it. He just whispers in the President’s ear, and the President thinks it’s a message from God!”
© Tony Russell, 2005
Monday, December 19, 2005
“This Pen for Hire”
“It’s OK to satirize the President, as long as you do so with respect.”
- Memo from CBS censors to the Smothers brothers, 1967
Dear President Bush,
We have not yet received payment for the columns you ordered. If you will check the record, my “Spineless Democrats” column ran on July 17 of this year, and on November 14, I published a column attacking Sen. Harry Reid, per your request. In accordance with the terms of our contract, no reference to White House sponsorship was included in the articles. In the event that our original billing was misplaced, a second invoice is attached.
At the time of our original discussion, $1,000 each for the columns seemed reasonable, and in line with my usual fee in these matters. Since then, however, disclosures in the press indicate that I am being compensated for my efforts at well below the going market rate.
Specifically, it has been revealed that my colleague Armstrong Williams, a black conservative, received $240,000 from the U.S. Dept. of Education and the Ketchum public relations firm to advocate for your “No Child Left Behind” (NCLB) program. That is approximately one hundred twenty times what I am slated to receive.
I recognize that although Mr. Williams’s contract required him to write a number of opinion columns supporting NCLB, it also required that he comment favorably on the program on his nationally syndicated television and radio shows (“The Right Side”). He was also expected to interview Education Secretary Rod Paige, and to attempt to persuade other black journalists to interview Secretary Paige and promote your NCLB policy.
So it could be argued that Mr. Williams was paid more because he was being hired for a variety of additional services. However, I had already indicated my willingness to write additional columns, appear on FOX News talk shows, and ask embarrassing questions during interviews with various liberal political figures.
In addition, syndicated columnist Doug Bandow is now alleged to have received substantial payments from Republican fundraiser and lobbyist Jack Abramoff to write somewhere between a dozen and two dozen positive stories about Abramoff's clients, at $2,000 a column. You promised to put me in touch with Mr. Abramoff to see if he had additional clients I could promote, but he was repeatedly “out of the office” or “unavailable to take your call” when I attempted to contact him.
And, as you may recall, conservative columnist Maggie Gallagher got $21,500 from your Department of Health and Human Services (DHHS) to advocate for your ideas on marriage. Ms. Gallagher, after having been condemned for receiving unreported payments from your administration, wrote in a subsequent column that she would have informed readers of the payments if she had just remembered them. I can assure you that I will remember whether or not you pay me $21,500.
Likewise, conservative columnist Mike McManus received $10,000 from DHHS for promoting the same cause in his syndicated column, 'Ethics & Religion,' which appears in fifty newspapers. It is unfortunate for his column that his failure to mention he was being paid to promote the cause was widely seen as an ethical lapse.
As revelations of your administration’s bribery of the press continue to emerge, I have been shocked—just shocked—at how much I have been underpaid. A free press cannot be bought on the cheap.
You seem to have realized this in Iraq, where your military leaders spent $20 million, much of it to bribe journalists and publishers, in a two-month campaign to plant stories favorable to the U.S. in Iraqi media. I must say that, as an American citizen, I resent those funds going to Iraqis, when a host of journalists at home would have been more than happy to generate favorable news for payments on that scale.
In light of your administration’s payments to Mr. Williams, Ms. Gallagher, Mr. McManus, and a bevy of Iraqi journalists, the $2,000 for which I contracted is clearly inadequate compensation, totally inconsistent with the stature and wide readership of my work.
If you have already sent payment, and our correspondence has crossed in the mail, please disregard this letter.
Sincerely,
Tony Russell
P.S. This is your last chance to order columns at the current rate. Starting January 1, the price for a standard promotional column will rise to $2,000. Graphs, charts, photos, and other supplements will cost an additional 10%. We regret this increase, but a price restructuring was necessary to remain competitive in a rapidly changing market.
P.P.S. Remember that Christmas is less than a week away. Order gift columns now for your cabinet secretaries, allies, and campaign contributors. They make the perfect gift!
P.P.P.S. Note my return address. Any correspondence or payments should be sent to my personal post office box rather than care of the Hur Herald, as the owner/publisher/editor is inclined to be old-fashioned in these matters.
- Memo from CBS censors to the Smothers brothers, 1967
Dear President Bush,
We have not yet received payment for the columns you ordered. If you will check the record, my “Spineless Democrats” column ran on July 17 of this year, and on November 14, I published a column attacking Sen. Harry Reid, per your request. In accordance with the terms of our contract, no reference to White House sponsorship was included in the articles. In the event that our original billing was misplaced, a second invoice is attached.
At the time of our original discussion, $1,000 each for the columns seemed reasonable, and in line with my usual fee in these matters. Since then, however, disclosures in the press indicate that I am being compensated for my efforts at well below the going market rate.
Specifically, it has been revealed that my colleague Armstrong Williams, a black conservative, received $240,000 from the U.S. Dept. of Education and the Ketchum public relations firm to advocate for your “No Child Left Behind” (NCLB) program. That is approximately one hundred twenty times what I am slated to receive.
I recognize that although Mr. Williams’s contract required him to write a number of opinion columns supporting NCLB, it also required that he comment favorably on the program on his nationally syndicated television and radio shows (“The Right Side”). He was also expected to interview Education Secretary Rod Paige, and to attempt to persuade other black journalists to interview Secretary Paige and promote your NCLB policy.
So it could be argued that Mr. Williams was paid more because he was being hired for a variety of additional services. However, I had already indicated my willingness to write additional columns, appear on FOX News talk shows, and ask embarrassing questions during interviews with various liberal political figures.
In addition, syndicated columnist Doug Bandow is now alleged to have received substantial payments from Republican fundraiser and lobbyist Jack Abramoff to write somewhere between a dozen and two dozen positive stories about Abramoff's clients, at $2,000 a column. You promised to put me in touch with Mr. Abramoff to see if he had additional clients I could promote, but he was repeatedly “out of the office” or “unavailable to take your call” when I attempted to contact him.
And, as you may recall, conservative columnist Maggie Gallagher got $21,500 from your Department of Health and Human Services (DHHS) to advocate for your ideas on marriage. Ms. Gallagher, after having been condemned for receiving unreported payments from your administration, wrote in a subsequent column that she would have informed readers of the payments if she had just remembered them. I can assure you that I will remember whether or not you pay me $21,500.
Likewise, conservative columnist Mike McManus received $10,000 from DHHS for promoting the same cause in his syndicated column, 'Ethics & Religion,' which appears in fifty newspapers. It is unfortunate for his column that his failure to mention he was being paid to promote the cause was widely seen as an ethical lapse.
As revelations of your administration’s bribery of the press continue to emerge, I have been shocked—just shocked—at how much I have been underpaid. A free press cannot be bought on the cheap.
You seem to have realized this in Iraq, where your military leaders spent $20 million, much of it to bribe journalists and publishers, in a two-month campaign to plant stories favorable to the U.S. in Iraqi media. I must say that, as an American citizen, I resent those funds going to Iraqis, when a host of journalists at home would have been more than happy to generate favorable news for payments on that scale.
In light of your administration’s payments to Mr. Williams, Ms. Gallagher, Mr. McManus, and a bevy of Iraqi journalists, the $2,000 for which I contracted is clearly inadequate compensation, totally inconsistent with the stature and wide readership of my work.
If you have already sent payment, and our correspondence has crossed in the mail, please disregard this letter.
Sincerely,
Tony Russell
P.S. This is your last chance to order columns at the current rate. Starting January 1, the price for a standard promotional column will rise to $2,000. Graphs, charts, photos, and other supplements will cost an additional 10%. We regret this increase, but a price restructuring was necessary to remain competitive in a rapidly changing market.
P.P.S. Remember that Christmas is less than a week away. Order gift columns now for your cabinet secretaries, allies, and campaign contributors. They make the perfect gift!
P.P.P.S. Note my return address. Any correspondence or payments should be sent to my personal post office box rather than care of the Hur Herald, as the owner/publisher/editor is inclined to be old-fashioned in these matters.
Thursday, December 15, 2005
“Gang Co-Founder Executed in Texas”
Note: The following column closely parallels an actual news report on Yahoo! of the execution of Stanley “Tookie” Williams in California, often word for word, sometimes simply with names, ages, and locations changed. The irony the column turns upon, of course, is that Williams, a founding member of the Crips, was executed for four murders he denied having committed, while Mr. Bush, whose responsibility for perhaps 25,000 times as many deaths is based on evidence at least as strong as that used to convict Williams, is a free man admired by millions. “The Vulcans” is the name that Bush's core national security advisors, (Dick Cheney, Donald Rumsfeld, Paul Wolfowitz, Scooter Libby, Condoleeza Rice, and a few others) gave themselves.
Gang Co-Founder Executed in Texas
Huntsville, December 12, 2015 -
George “W” Bush, co-founder of the notorious “Vulcans” gang, whose case stirred a national debate about capital punishment versus the possibility of redemption, was executed Tuesday morning.
Bush, 69, died at 12:35 a.m. Officials at Huntsville State Prison struggled to inject the lethal mixture into his muscular arm, strengthened by years of clearing brush on his Crawford, Texas, ranch. As they probed repeatedly for a vein, Bush looked up irritably, shaking his head at supporters and other witnesses, asking one of the men with a needle "What’s the problem here?"
Bush was condemned for deliberately starting a war by manufacturing and twisting evidence which he knew was false at the time. Bush claimed he was innocent. Witnessess at his trial said he boasted about the war, shouting, "Bring it on!" Bush then smirked and joked for five to six minutes, according to the transcript that the governor referenced in his denial of clemency.
The case became the state's highest-profile execution in decades. Radio talk-show hosts, televangelists, and politicians who had formerly been fierce capital punishment advocates argued that Bush's sentence should be commuted to life in prison because he had made amends by writing children's books about the dangers of torture and war. Bush had spent the past decade writing books to deter young people from following his example and using his "street" credibility to broker peace agreements between warring elements in the United States and abroad.
In the days leading up to the execution, state and federal courts refused to reopen his case. Monday, Gov. Rick Perry, Jr. denied Bush's request for clemency, suggesting that Bush’s supposed change of heart was not genuine because he had not shown any real remorse for the 100,000 or more deaths directly attributable to the gang known as “the Vulcans.”
"Is Bush's redemption complete and sincere, or is it just a hollow promise?" Perry wrote. "Without an apology and atonement for these senseless and brutal killings, there can be no redemption."
About 1,000 death penalty opponents and a few political supporters gathered outside the prison to await the execution. Singer Lee Greenwood, former actor Arnold Schwarzenegger, and the Rev. Jerry Falwell were among the celebrities who protested the execution.
"Tonight is cold-blooded judicial murder, and I think everyone who is here is here to try to recover the morality and soul of this country," said Greenwood, who sang "God Bless the USA" from the back of a pickup truck just outside the gates.
A contingent of 30 people who had walked the approximately 67 miles from Houston held signs calling for an end to "state-sponsored murder." But others, including Darrell Bias, 52, of Willis, Texas, said they wanted to honor the victims.
"If he had admitted his responsibility for lying to start a deadly, evil war, and had shown some remorse for the slaughter of thousands upon thousands of men, women, and children, the governor might have had a reason to spare his life," Bias said.
During Bush's years on death row, a Swiss legislator, college professors, and others nominated him for the Nobel Prizes in peace and literature.
Former Vulcans member Irve Lewis Libby Jr., 65, was among those attending a candlelight vigil outside the prison. He said he would work to spread Bush's anti-war message. "His work isn’t going to stop," said Libby, who said he was known as "Scooter" as a young cabal member. "W's body might be buried, but his spirit is free. I want everyone to know that, his spirit lives."
Bias rejoined, “That’s the problem in a nutshell.”
"I’m not the same man who started the war," Bush said recently during an interview with The Associated Press. "I haven't had a lot of self-knowledge in my life. But in here," he said, pointing to his head, "I know I’m right."
Bush's statements did not sway some relatives of his victims, including Lorena Orwell, whose son Andy was among four soldiers who died when a roadside bomb exploded near their convoy. In the years since his death, she has been one of the outspoken advocates who argued the execution should go forward.
"(Bush) chose to put Andy in harm’s way through three tours of duty in Iraq. Andy didn't do anything to deserve to die. He just joined the Guard to get money for college. He had big plans for his life," she said during a recent interview. "He didn’t die right away. He was covered with horrible burns over 90% of his body, and had massive internal injuries. I believe Bush needs to get the punishment he was given when he was tried and sentenced."
After he was officially pronounced dead, three of his supporters chanted, "The state of Texas just killed an innocent man," and waved small American flags as they walked out of the chamber.
© Tony Russell, 2005
Gang Co-Founder Executed in Texas
Huntsville, December 12, 2015 -
George “W” Bush, co-founder of the notorious “Vulcans” gang, whose case stirred a national debate about capital punishment versus the possibility of redemption, was executed Tuesday morning.
Bush, 69, died at 12:35 a.m. Officials at Huntsville State Prison struggled to inject the lethal mixture into his muscular arm, strengthened by years of clearing brush on his Crawford, Texas, ranch. As they probed repeatedly for a vein, Bush looked up irritably, shaking his head at supporters and other witnesses, asking one of the men with a needle "What’s the problem here?"
Bush was condemned for deliberately starting a war by manufacturing and twisting evidence which he knew was false at the time. Bush claimed he was innocent. Witnessess at his trial said he boasted about the war, shouting, "Bring it on!" Bush then smirked and joked for five to six minutes, according to the transcript that the governor referenced in his denial of clemency.
The case became the state's highest-profile execution in decades. Radio talk-show hosts, televangelists, and politicians who had formerly been fierce capital punishment advocates argued that Bush's sentence should be commuted to life in prison because he had made amends by writing children's books about the dangers of torture and war. Bush had spent the past decade writing books to deter young people from following his example and using his "street" credibility to broker peace agreements between warring elements in the United States and abroad.
In the days leading up to the execution, state and federal courts refused to reopen his case. Monday, Gov. Rick Perry, Jr. denied Bush's request for clemency, suggesting that Bush’s supposed change of heart was not genuine because he had not shown any real remorse for the 100,000 or more deaths directly attributable to the gang known as “the Vulcans.”
"Is Bush's redemption complete and sincere, or is it just a hollow promise?" Perry wrote. "Without an apology and atonement for these senseless and brutal killings, there can be no redemption."
About 1,000 death penalty opponents and a few political supporters gathered outside the prison to await the execution. Singer Lee Greenwood, former actor Arnold Schwarzenegger, and the Rev. Jerry Falwell were among the celebrities who protested the execution.
"Tonight is cold-blooded judicial murder, and I think everyone who is here is here to try to recover the morality and soul of this country," said Greenwood, who sang "God Bless the USA" from the back of a pickup truck just outside the gates.
A contingent of 30 people who had walked the approximately 67 miles from Houston held signs calling for an end to "state-sponsored murder." But others, including Darrell Bias, 52, of Willis, Texas, said they wanted to honor the victims.
"If he had admitted his responsibility for lying to start a deadly, evil war, and had shown some remorse for the slaughter of thousands upon thousands of men, women, and children, the governor might have had a reason to spare his life," Bias said.
During Bush's years on death row, a Swiss legislator, college professors, and others nominated him for the Nobel Prizes in peace and literature.
Former Vulcans member Irve Lewis Libby Jr., 65, was among those attending a candlelight vigil outside the prison. He said he would work to spread Bush's anti-war message. "His work isn’t going to stop," said Libby, who said he was known as "Scooter" as a young cabal member. "W's body might be buried, but his spirit is free. I want everyone to know that, his spirit lives."
Bias rejoined, “That’s the problem in a nutshell.”
"I’m not the same man who started the war," Bush said recently during an interview with The Associated Press. "I haven't had a lot of self-knowledge in my life. But in here," he said, pointing to his head, "I know I’m right."
Bush's statements did not sway some relatives of his victims, including Lorena Orwell, whose son Andy was among four soldiers who died when a roadside bomb exploded near their convoy. In the years since his death, she has been one of the outspoken advocates who argued the execution should go forward.
"(Bush) chose to put Andy in harm’s way through three tours of duty in Iraq. Andy didn't do anything to deserve to die. He just joined the Guard to get money for college. He had big plans for his life," she said during a recent interview. "He didn’t die right away. He was covered with horrible burns over 90% of his body, and had massive internal injuries. I believe Bush needs to get the punishment he was given when he was tried and sentenced."
After he was officially pronounced dead, three of his supporters chanted, "The state of Texas just killed an innocent man," and waved small American flags as they walked out of the chamber.
© Tony Russell, 2005
Monday, December 12, 2005
“Three More Years! Three More Years!”
“…the member of Parliament maintained a confident air of satisfaction,
which was why politicians were assassinated, Blair thought, because
nothing else would faze them.”
- from Martin Cruz Smith’s novel Rose
“Hello, this is Mr. Insider. How may I help you?
“Mr. Insider, a bunch of us here in the office were talking about impeachment, and we’re stumped. You know Washington from the inside out. We’re hoping you can settle an argument for us.”
“I’ll do my best to justify your confidence. What’s your question?”
“Well, actually, it’s not just one question. We’ve got several questions.”
“Okay, let’s just take them one at a time. From the top.”
“That’s easy. The first one that’s on everybody’s mind is ‘What’s keeping George Bush from being impeached?’”
“What do your friends in the office think?”
“They think Republicans will never let it happen as long as they control both houses of Congress.”
[Mr. Insider bursts into a huge belly laugh. Finally, gasping and wheezing from
the effort, he brings it to a stop.] That’s what they think? [Can’t help himself, and breaks into laughter again.] Listen, Republicans are desperate to dump him! They’d throw Bush out in a minute if they could. Every Republican politician in the country is panicked. They’re afraid—with good reason—that voters will blame them for the mess the country is in. They’re all scared spitless that come election day the public will toss them over the side of a bridge like a sack of unwanted kittens weighed down with a stone.”
“So it’s not the Republicans dragging their feet on impeachment?”
“Oh hell no! They’re all for it! It’s the Democrats who want to keep him in office. He’s the best thing they’ve got going for them. There’s a lot of arm-twisting going on in the cloakrooms right now, with Republicans trying to get a few Democrats to sign on for impeachment. But the Democrats won’t budge, and the Republicans don’t want it to look like it’s strictly a partisan affair.”
“Do you think there’s a good case for impeachment?”
[Mr. Insider snorts.] “You must be kidding, right? Clinton was impeached for lying about oral sex. Bush and his cronies lied about a war that’s bloodied the whole Middle East. Our fiscal future is a nightmare. Iraq is draining billions out of our budget faster than waste flushed down a commode. They lied about the cost of a prescription drug benefit. They lied about the cost of their tax breaks. They’re shredding the Constitution, holding people without charge, denying them the right to see a lawyer, kidnapping people from the streets, and torturing suspects all over the globe. If you impeach Clinton and you don’t impeach Bush, it’s like executing a jaywalker and excusing a serial killer.”
“So why hasn’t it happened already? Why do we have to put up with this guy for three more years? Are we just stuck?”
“That’s easy enough. Who fills Bush’s slot if he’s out?”
[A pause. Then a groan.] “Dick Cheney.”
“Exactly. The Torture Master himself. Bush took a page from his father’s book. You know what they used to call Dan Quayle: Bush’s life insurance.”
“But couldn’t you impeach them both at once—some kind of two-for-one special?”
“You haven’t thought this through. Who’s next in line after Cheney?”
“Let’s see… it’s the Speaker of the House, isn’t it?”
“Exactly. Dennis Hastert. Tom DeLay’s man of the House.”
“Suppose you could somehow get past all three?”
“Then you get the President Pro Tempore of the Senate—Bill Frist, currently under investigation for insider trading.”
“That’s it then? We’re stuck with this schmuck? For three more years?”
“Hey, if you don’t think long enough about your vote before you cast it, you’ve got a long time afterwards to regret it.”
© Tony Russell, 2005
which was why politicians were assassinated, Blair thought, because
nothing else would faze them.”
- from Martin Cruz Smith’s novel Rose
“Hello, this is Mr. Insider. How may I help you?
“Mr. Insider, a bunch of us here in the office were talking about impeachment, and we’re stumped. You know Washington from the inside out. We’re hoping you can settle an argument for us.”
“I’ll do my best to justify your confidence. What’s your question?”
“Well, actually, it’s not just one question. We’ve got several questions.”
“Okay, let’s just take them one at a time. From the top.”
“That’s easy. The first one that’s on everybody’s mind is ‘What’s keeping George Bush from being impeached?’”
“What do your friends in the office think?”
“They think Republicans will never let it happen as long as they control both houses of Congress.”
[Mr. Insider bursts into a huge belly laugh. Finally, gasping and wheezing from
the effort, he brings it to a stop.] That’s what they think? [Can’t help himself, and breaks into laughter again.] Listen, Republicans are desperate to dump him! They’d throw Bush out in a minute if they could. Every Republican politician in the country is panicked. They’re afraid—with good reason—that voters will blame them for the mess the country is in. They’re all scared spitless that come election day the public will toss them over the side of a bridge like a sack of unwanted kittens weighed down with a stone.”
“So it’s not the Republicans dragging their feet on impeachment?”
“Oh hell no! They’re all for it! It’s the Democrats who want to keep him in office. He’s the best thing they’ve got going for them. There’s a lot of arm-twisting going on in the cloakrooms right now, with Republicans trying to get a few Democrats to sign on for impeachment. But the Democrats won’t budge, and the Republicans don’t want it to look like it’s strictly a partisan affair.”
“Do you think there’s a good case for impeachment?”
[Mr. Insider snorts.] “You must be kidding, right? Clinton was impeached for lying about oral sex. Bush and his cronies lied about a war that’s bloodied the whole Middle East. Our fiscal future is a nightmare. Iraq is draining billions out of our budget faster than waste flushed down a commode. They lied about the cost of a prescription drug benefit. They lied about the cost of their tax breaks. They’re shredding the Constitution, holding people without charge, denying them the right to see a lawyer, kidnapping people from the streets, and torturing suspects all over the globe. If you impeach Clinton and you don’t impeach Bush, it’s like executing a jaywalker and excusing a serial killer.”
“So why hasn’t it happened already? Why do we have to put up with this guy for three more years? Are we just stuck?”
“That’s easy enough. Who fills Bush’s slot if he’s out?”
[A pause. Then a groan.] “Dick Cheney.”
“Exactly. The Torture Master himself. Bush took a page from his father’s book. You know what they used to call Dan Quayle: Bush’s life insurance.”
“But couldn’t you impeach them both at once—some kind of two-for-one special?”
“You haven’t thought this through. Who’s next in line after Cheney?”
“Let’s see… it’s the Speaker of the House, isn’t it?”
“Exactly. Dennis Hastert. Tom DeLay’s man of the House.”
“Suppose you could somehow get past all three?”
“Then you get the President Pro Tempore of the Senate—Bill Frist, currently under investigation for insider trading.”
“That’s it then? We’re stuck with this schmuck? For three more years?”
“Hey, if you don’t think long enough about your vote before you cast it, you’ve got a long time afterwards to regret it.”
© Tony Russell, 2005
Friday, December 09, 2005
“None So Blind”
“Ed,” I blurted out, “what happened to you?”
He swiveled his head, trying to hone in on my voice. I flinched when I saw his eyes straight on, soft milky tissue where the pupils had been. But his posture was stiffly erect, like a caricature of a soldier on parade.
“Chuck,” he said, “is that you?”
“Yeah, it’s me. But, my God, Ed, what happened to your eyes?”
“I became a patriot!” he announced, voice brimming with pride.
That seemed a non sequitur to me. “A patriot?” I asked, perplexed. “I always thought you were a patriot, Ed.”
He looked frustrated for a minute. “Let me see if I can explain it to you,” he said. “Do you remember when we were part of that home schooling group, and some of the members wanted to make it a Christian home schooling group?”
“Uh huh.”
“And then it turned out that when they said ‘Christian,’ the term didn’t really include the Catholics and Methodists and what-not in the group. It only meant the fundamentalist kind of Christian?”
“Uh huh.”
“Well, it’s the same thing with ‘patriot’ as it was with ‘Christian.’ When we say ‘patriot,’ we don’t mean some wishy-washy relativist who sees good in some other countries and some evil in the United States. For us, the President’s word is an article of faith, and our country is righteous by glory and by God.”
“But you’re blind,” I said, afraid I’d hurt his feelings by stating the obvious.
“That’s just the way it appears to you,” he said. “I’ve replaced my eyesight with a superior kind of vision. The President, the Vice President, Joe Lieberman, Rush Limbaugh, Bill O’Reilly, Sean Hannity, Ann Coulter—they all kept telling me I needed to get this done, and I finally decided to stop putting it off.”
“Don’t your eyes hurt?” I asked, wincing at the very thought of losing my eyes.
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “That’s one of the best things about it. My vision is less painful than it was before. In fact, I don’t feel a thing.”
“But the operation must have hurt like the devil.”
“Nah,” he laughed. “It’s not like they poke a stick in your eyes. It’s all done through the power of suggestion, mass hypnosis, that kind of thing.”
“It just seems so… extreme,” I said hesitantly.
“You sound like some kind of terrorist,” he said, laughing again. “No offense meant, Chuck.”
“And how do you feel about the operation now …?”
“Just great,” he said. “Those people who say ‘My country, right or wrong’ have it all wrong. My country is always right.”
“So the terrible tortures in Abu Ghraib and Guantanamo Bay?”
“Invisible,” he said. “It’s like they never happened.”
“The tens of thousands of slaughtered Iraqis, including women and children? Just innocent civilians, killed by white phosphorus, or cluster bombs, or the massive illegal bombings carried out by the U.S. before the war even began?”
“What are you talking about?” he asked.
“The incredible corruption, the billions stolen in so-called Iraqi reconstruction funds?”
“Out of sight, out of mind,” he said dismissively.
“Prisoners held without charge for years, unable to see a lawyer, let alone family and friends?”
“I’m blind to it. Literally,” he said.
“The unmitigated gall of calling an unprovoked attack on another nation ‘Operation Iraqi Freedom’?”
“I don’t understand those words,” he said.
“The sheer stupidity of imposing a phony democracy at gunpoint?”
“Don’t see it,” he said. “Can’t see it.”
“The buying, bullying, bribing, and browbeating of news media, until they’re gun-shy about anything that doesn’t toe the right-wing line?”
“It’s not there,” he said. “There’s no ‘there’ there.”
“Our own government organizing kidnappings, secretly transporting suspects to other countries, and brutally interrogating them at clandestine detention centers?”
“Why would you even ask a question like that?” he said with a note of concern. “Do you really hate this country that much? Let me tell you, Chuck, you ought to do what I did, and go and have your eyes checked. Before it’s too late, and they can’t do anything to help you.”
© Tony Russell, 2005
He swiveled his head, trying to hone in on my voice. I flinched when I saw his eyes straight on, soft milky tissue where the pupils had been. But his posture was stiffly erect, like a caricature of a soldier on parade.
“Chuck,” he said, “is that you?”
“Yeah, it’s me. But, my God, Ed, what happened to your eyes?”
“I became a patriot!” he announced, voice brimming with pride.
That seemed a non sequitur to me. “A patriot?” I asked, perplexed. “I always thought you were a patriot, Ed.”
He looked frustrated for a minute. “Let me see if I can explain it to you,” he said. “Do you remember when we were part of that home schooling group, and some of the members wanted to make it a Christian home schooling group?”
“Uh huh.”
“And then it turned out that when they said ‘Christian,’ the term didn’t really include the Catholics and Methodists and what-not in the group. It only meant the fundamentalist kind of Christian?”
“Uh huh.”
“Well, it’s the same thing with ‘patriot’ as it was with ‘Christian.’ When we say ‘patriot,’ we don’t mean some wishy-washy relativist who sees good in some other countries and some evil in the United States. For us, the President’s word is an article of faith, and our country is righteous by glory and by God.”
“But you’re blind,” I said, afraid I’d hurt his feelings by stating the obvious.
“That’s just the way it appears to you,” he said. “I’ve replaced my eyesight with a superior kind of vision. The President, the Vice President, Joe Lieberman, Rush Limbaugh, Bill O’Reilly, Sean Hannity, Ann Coulter—they all kept telling me I needed to get this done, and I finally decided to stop putting it off.”
“Don’t your eyes hurt?” I asked, wincing at the very thought of losing my eyes.
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “That’s one of the best things about it. My vision is less painful than it was before. In fact, I don’t feel a thing.”
“But the operation must have hurt like the devil.”
“Nah,” he laughed. “It’s not like they poke a stick in your eyes. It’s all done through the power of suggestion, mass hypnosis, that kind of thing.”
“It just seems so… extreme,” I said hesitantly.
“You sound like some kind of terrorist,” he said, laughing again. “No offense meant, Chuck.”
“And how do you feel about the operation now …?”
“Just great,” he said. “Those people who say ‘My country, right or wrong’ have it all wrong. My country is always right.”
“So the terrible tortures in Abu Ghraib and Guantanamo Bay?”
“Invisible,” he said. “It’s like they never happened.”
“The tens of thousands of slaughtered Iraqis, including women and children? Just innocent civilians, killed by white phosphorus, or cluster bombs, or the massive illegal bombings carried out by the U.S. before the war even began?”
“What are you talking about?” he asked.
“The incredible corruption, the billions stolen in so-called Iraqi reconstruction funds?”
“Out of sight, out of mind,” he said dismissively.
“Prisoners held without charge for years, unable to see a lawyer, let alone family and friends?”
“I’m blind to it. Literally,” he said.
“The unmitigated gall of calling an unprovoked attack on another nation ‘Operation Iraqi Freedom’?”
“I don’t understand those words,” he said.
“The sheer stupidity of imposing a phony democracy at gunpoint?”
“Don’t see it,” he said. “Can’t see it.”
“The buying, bullying, bribing, and browbeating of news media, until they’re gun-shy about anything that doesn’t toe the right-wing line?”
“It’s not there,” he said. “There’s no ‘there’ there.”
“Our own government organizing kidnappings, secretly transporting suspects to other countries, and brutally interrogating them at clandestine detention centers?”
“Why would you even ask a question like that?” he said with a note of concern. “Do you really hate this country that much? Let me tell you, Chuck, you ought to do what I did, and go and have your eyes checked. Before it’s too late, and they can’t do anything to help you.”
© Tony Russell, 2005
Monday, December 05, 2005
“V-I-C-T-O-R-Y!”
Annapolis, Nov. 30. –
“I don’t know, Condi. I’m not sure this is such a good idea.”
“It’s too late to worry about it now, Scott. You know how he is. Once he gets an idea in his head, it’s safe from everything except a nuclear attack.”
“But he looks kind of …funny… up there, with that short skirt, bouncing around in those boots with the tassels on them, shaking those red, white, and blue pompoms.”
“Relax. He was a cheerleader at Yale, remember? He loves this kind of stuff. It’s second nature to him.”
“You’ve got to think, though, a college crowd like this could be a tough audience for him.”
“Nah. You just have to be careful where you take the show. There are at least eight or nine schools in the country he can go to with this routine and not get booed or hooted off the stage.”
“That many?”
“Sure. You’ve got the Naval Academy here, and then West Point, and the Air Force Academy. And don’t forget the Coast Guard Academy. Then there’s Bob Jones University, and Patrick Henry, and—what’s that place of Jerry Falwell’s, Liberty? That’s seven right there.”
“How can he do it? Plaster that smile on his face, swish around in front of all those ‘Plan for Victory’ signs…?”
“The Pep Club put those up on the stage and all the lockers before the rally. Takes you back to your high school days, doesn’t it?”
“It sure does. Wait! I recognize that cheer!”
Victory, victory, is our cry!
V-I-C-T-O-R-Y!
Bush and Cheney is our name!
Oil and money are our game!
Yay!
“That was so cute!”
“But it doesn’t make any sense! How can you have a victory rally when you’re getting the crap kicked out of you, and everybody knows it?”
“Well sure, it’s hard. But does a cheerleader pack in the pompoms just because the team’s down by six touchdowns? They’d jerk the letter off your varsity sweater in a heartbeat. You just smile and keep pleading with the crowd to cheer. Remember? ‘Come on, you guys, let’s hear some spirit.’”
“But think of all those wounded players carried off the field on stretchers. Some of them weren’t moving. I’m kind of anxious about them.”
“These are just college kids, Scott. War, football—they just like the excitement of the game. The band, the uniforms, the roar of the crowd, us against them. Get ‘em jazzed up, and they forget all about torn ACL’s or amputations.”
“Hey, who’s that guy climbing up on the stage with him?”
“Don’t be silly, you know him! That’s Joe Lieberman.”
“Is that Joe? He sure looks different in that cheerleading outfit.”
“Shhhh. Watch, this’ll be good. They’ve been working on this routine all week. [Pause] Well, what did you think of it?”
“That was really something! The way he boosted the President up on his shoulders, and then did the splits! That just defies reality!”
“You think that’s a neat trick, wait until you see the President’s next move. When he talks about ‘fighting for freedom,’ he really means we’ll continue a strategy of torture, death squads, betrayal of women’s rights, massive corruption and profiteering, and heavy bombing of civilians. Talk about doing the splits!”
© Tony Russell, 2005
“I don’t know, Condi. I’m not sure this is such a good idea.”
“It’s too late to worry about it now, Scott. You know how he is. Once he gets an idea in his head, it’s safe from everything except a nuclear attack.”
“But he looks kind of …funny… up there, with that short skirt, bouncing around in those boots with the tassels on them, shaking those red, white, and blue pompoms.”
“Relax. He was a cheerleader at Yale, remember? He loves this kind of stuff. It’s second nature to him.”
“You’ve got to think, though, a college crowd like this could be a tough audience for him.”
“Nah. You just have to be careful where you take the show. There are at least eight or nine schools in the country he can go to with this routine and not get booed or hooted off the stage.”
“That many?”
“Sure. You’ve got the Naval Academy here, and then West Point, and the Air Force Academy. And don’t forget the Coast Guard Academy. Then there’s Bob Jones University, and Patrick Henry, and—what’s that place of Jerry Falwell’s, Liberty? That’s seven right there.”
“How can he do it? Plaster that smile on his face, swish around in front of all those ‘Plan for Victory’ signs…?”
“The Pep Club put those up on the stage and all the lockers before the rally. Takes you back to your high school days, doesn’t it?”
“It sure does. Wait! I recognize that cheer!”
Victory, victory, is our cry!
V-I-C-T-O-R-Y!
Bush and Cheney is our name!
Oil and money are our game!
Yay!
“That was so cute!”
“But it doesn’t make any sense! How can you have a victory rally when you’re getting the crap kicked out of you, and everybody knows it?”
“Well sure, it’s hard. But does a cheerleader pack in the pompoms just because the team’s down by six touchdowns? They’d jerk the letter off your varsity sweater in a heartbeat. You just smile and keep pleading with the crowd to cheer. Remember? ‘Come on, you guys, let’s hear some spirit.’”
“But think of all those wounded players carried off the field on stretchers. Some of them weren’t moving. I’m kind of anxious about them.”
“These are just college kids, Scott. War, football—they just like the excitement of the game. The band, the uniforms, the roar of the crowd, us against them. Get ‘em jazzed up, and they forget all about torn ACL’s or amputations.”
“Hey, who’s that guy climbing up on the stage with him?”
“Don’t be silly, you know him! That’s Joe Lieberman.”
“Is that Joe? He sure looks different in that cheerleading outfit.”
“Shhhh. Watch, this’ll be good. They’ve been working on this routine all week. [Pause] Well, what did you think of it?”
“That was really something! The way he boosted the President up on his shoulders, and then did the splits! That just defies reality!”
“You think that’s a neat trick, wait until you see the President’s next move. When he talks about ‘fighting for freedom,’ he really means we’ll continue a strategy of torture, death squads, betrayal of women’s rights, massive corruption and profiteering, and heavy bombing of civilians. Talk about doing the splits!”
© Tony Russell, 2005
Wednesday, November 30, 2005
“Appreciate One When You See One”
“What’s up, Wendell?” I asked, sliding into the booth. “You look like a cat that just swallowed a two-pound canary.”
He flipped the Hur Herald around and jabbed a finger at the front page. “Take a look at that,” he said gleefully. “Another Republican politician caught with his hand in the till. So many of these guys have been indicted now the court’ll look like Wal-Mart the day after Thanksgiving!”
“And that makes you happy?” I said.
“Damn straight,” he said. “I’ve had it up to here with those hypocrites.” He snorted. “These were the guys who were gonna restore honor and dignity to politics. The family values guys, the guys who prayed every time you put a mike in front of their mouth. They turned evangelical churches into party headquarters. If you listened to them, God punched a straight Republican ticket. And now it turns out they’re no better than a den of thieves.”
I glanced over the story. “Wow,” I said. “Duke Cunningham. Eight-term Congressman from San Diego. Pled guilty to taking $2.4 million dollars in bribes from three defense contractors! He didn’t play around with chicken feed, did he?”
“Look at the perks,” said Wendell. “A mansion, a suburban Washington condominium, a yacht, and a Rolls Royce. The man liked the high life.”
Madge was standing there, waiting to take my order. “I’ll have the health-food special,” I said. “Two over easy, three slices of bacon, a couple of waffles, and a cup of coffee, cream and sugar.”
“You’re feeling good about the wrong thing,” muttered Madge, as she jotted down the order on her pad.
“What’s that?” said Wendell.
“Read the rest of the story,” she said. She pointed with her pencil to the middle of the page. The truth is I broke the law, concealed my conduct, and disgraced my office. I know I will forfeit my reputation, my worldly possessions –and, most importantly, the trust of my friends and family. I can't undo what I have done, but I can atone. I'm almost 65 years old and I enter the twilight of my life. I intend to use the remaining time that God grants me to make amends, and I will.
“It’s just part of the plea agreement,” scoffed Wendell. “He had to show contrition.”
“Oh, for God’s sake. Don’t be such a damned cynic, Wendell,” she snapped. “Yes, the guy betrayed everybody who ever voted for him. And yes, that’s your money and mine he was pissing away. There’s no excuse for that. He deserves his punishment. But he looked at himself, in front of all of us, and said he was ashamed of what he saw. And then he promised to do something about it: ‘I can’t undo what I have done, but I can atone.’”
“So what’s your point?” he asked.
“You’re always griping about Rumsfeld and Cheney and Bush. How they never admit they’ve made a mistake. How everybody acts as if Bush is such a he-man because he never looks back, never admits he was wrong, and never says he’s sorry.”
“Yeah. So?”
“So now you’ve got a guy who was a Navy fighter pilot, had medals saying he was a hero, turned into a crook and a liar—and has finally become a real man. You ought to appreciate one when you see one.”
“Madge,” I said, “could you make that flapjacks instead of waffles? And add some biscuits and gravy on the side?”
© Tony Russell, 2005
He flipped the Hur Herald around and jabbed a finger at the front page. “Take a look at that,” he said gleefully. “Another Republican politician caught with his hand in the till. So many of these guys have been indicted now the court’ll look like Wal-Mart the day after Thanksgiving!”
“And that makes you happy?” I said.
“Damn straight,” he said. “I’ve had it up to here with those hypocrites.” He snorted. “These were the guys who were gonna restore honor and dignity to politics. The family values guys, the guys who prayed every time you put a mike in front of their mouth. They turned evangelical churches into party headquarters. If you listened to them, God punched a straight Republican ticket. And now it turns out they’re no better than a den of thieves.”
I glanced over the story. “Wow,” I said. “Duke Cunningham. Eight-term Congressman from San Diego. Pled guilty to taking $2.4 million dollars in bribes from three defense contractors! He didn’t play around with chicken feed, did he?”
“Look at the perks,” said Wendell. “A mansion, a suburban Washington condominium, a yacht, and a Rolls Royce. The man liked the high life.”
Madge was standing there, waiting to take my order. “I’ll have the health-food special,” I said. “Two over easy, three slices of bacon, a couple of waffles, and a cup of coffee, cream and sugar.”
“You’re feeling good about the wrong thing,” muttered Madge, as she jotted down the order on her pad.
“What’s that?” said Wendell.
“Read the rest of the story,” she said. She pointed with her pencil to the middle of the page. The truth is I broke the law, concealed my conduct, and disgraced my office. I know I will forfeit my reputation, my worldly possessions –and, most importantly, the trust of my friends and family. I can't undo what I have done, but I can atone. I'm almost 65 years old and I enter the twilight of my life. I intend to use the remaining time that God grants me to make amends, and I will.
“It’s just part of the plea agreement,” scoffed Wendell. “He had to show contrition.”
“Oh, for God’s sake. Don’t be such a damned cynic, Wendell,” she snapped. “Yes, the guy betrayed everybody who ever voted for him. And yes, that’s your money and mine he was pissing away. There’s no excuse for that. He deserves his punishment. But he looked at himself, in front of all of us, and said he was ashamed of what he saw. And then he promised to do something about it: ‘I can’t undo what I have done, but I can atone.’”
“So what’s your point?” he asked.
“You’re always griping about Rumsfeld and Cheney and Bush. How they never admit they’ve made a mistake. How everybody acts as if Bush is such a he-man because he never looks back, never admits he was wrong, and never says he’s sorry.”
“Yeah. So?”
“So now you’ve got a guy who was a Navy fighter pilot, had medals saying he was a hero, turned into a crook and a liar—and has finally become a real man. You ought to appreciate one when you see one.”
“Madge,” I said, “could you make that flapjacks instead of waffles? And add some biscuits and gravy on the side?”
© Tony Russell, 2005
Monday, November 28, 2005
“Deserting a Sinking Ship”
Washington, Nov. 28 –
Reports from the Potomac basin today indicate that the Presidential yacht is taking on water at an alarming rate. Despite administration efforts to spin water overboard, the ship is said to be in danger of capsizing and going to the bottom.
The yacht suffered major damage during Hurricane Katrina, although nautical experts say that hairline cracks had already been detected below the ship’s water line. Efforts to repair the craft in the hurricane’s aftermath were hampered by aides’ inability to get the President’s attention for five days while damage worsened. The President was reportedly riding his bicycle at the time.
Stories of the vessel’s grave condition have gained added credibility from accounts of rats racing to leave the craft, squealing and nipping at each other in their frenzied haste to abandon ship. Republican politicians, who were partying on the ship at the time it ran into foul weather, are increasingly alarmed at the vessel’s condition. Old hands Brent Scowcroft and Lawrence Wilkerson, who served aboard when the current captain’s father was at the helm, jumped ship in the past few weeks.
Republican Jerry Kilgore, locked in a neck-and-neck contest with Tim Kaine in the Virginia gubernatorial race, called Mr. Bush in for a last-minute joint appearance in hopes of giving his campaign a boost. He lost by a stunning six percentage points. Commentators are unable to account for the sudden shift in voter sentiment. It is reported, however, that the results sprang another leak in the vessel’s hull.
Subsequently, Senator Rick Santorum, trailing his challenger by sixteen points in recent polls, was unable to rearrange his schedule to appear with Mr. Bush during the President’s recent trip to Pennsylvania.
Eyewitnesses say that ropes mooring the craft are so crowded with panicky rats biting and infighting that the ropes are slick with blood and hazardous to cross. Several rats have been knocked off and apparently drowned; others are expected to fall now that Patrick Fitzgerald has convened a new grand jury.
Unconfirmed reports describe an exodus of huge rats with a purplish hue to their turncoats. These so-called Democ rats took up lodging on the Presidential ship in fair weather, voting for a series of Presidential measures, including tax cuts for the wealthy, the Iraq war, the Patriot Act, and the bankruptcy bill. Almost all are said to have fled the ship now, and are attempting to mingle with their brethren and sisters who had stayed ashore.
© Tony Russell, 2005
Reports from the Potomac basin today indicate that the Presidential yacht is taking on water at an alarming rate. Despite administration efforts to spin water overboard, the ship is said to be in danger of capsizing and going to the bottom.
The yacht suffered major damage during Hurricane Katrina, although nautical experts say that hairline cracks had already been detected below the ship’s water line. Efforts to repair the craft in the hurricane’s aftermath were hampered by aides’ inability to get the President’s attention for five days while damage worsened. The President was reportedly riding his bicycle at the time.
Stories of the vessel’s grave condition have gained added credibility from accounts of rats racing to leave the craft, squealing and nipping at each other in their frenzied haste to abandon ship. Republican politicians, who were partying on the ship at the time it ran into foul weather, are increasingly alarmed at the vessel’s condition. Old hands Brent Scowcroft and Lawrence Wilkerson, who served aboard when the current captain’s father was at the helm, jumped ship in the past few weeks.
Republican Jerry Kilgore, locked in a neck-and-neck contest with Tim Kaine in the Virginia gubernatorial race, called Mr. Bush in for a last-minute joint appearance in hopes of giving his campaign a boost. He lost by a stunning six percentage points. Commentators are unable to account for the sudden shift in voter sentiment. It is reported, however, that the results sprang another leak in the vessel’s hull.
Subsequently, Senator Rick Santorum, trailing his challenger by sixteen points in recent polls, was unable to rearrange his schedule to appear with Mr. Bush during the President’s recent trip to Pennsylvania.
Eyewitnesses say that ropes mooring the craft are so crowded with panicky rats biting and infighting that the ropes are slick with blood and hazardous to cross. Several rats have been knocked off and apparently drowned; others are expected to fall now that Patrick Fitzgerald has convened a new grand jury.
Unconfirmed reports describe an exodus of huge rats with a purplish hue to their turncoats. These so-called Democ rats took up lodging on the Presidential ship in fair weather, voting for a series of Presidential measures, including tax cuts for the wealthy, the Iraq war, the Patriot Act, and the bankruptcy bill. Almost all are said to have fled the ship now, and are attempting to mingle with their brethren and sisters who had stayed ashore.
© Tony Russell, 2005
Monday, November 21, 2005
“Behind Dick Cheney’s Back”
The guy sitting next to me looked up from his newspaper. “Did you see this?” he asked. “Scooter Libby was indicted on five counts of perjury, obstruction of justice, and making false statements.”
“Yeah, I heard about it on the radio before I left work,” I said.
“It’s just hard to believe, isn’t it?” he said, with a note of lingering surprise.
“What do you mean?”
“You know. That the Vice President’s Chief of Staff—the guy who had such a reputation for loyalty and dedication to the Vice President—would do something like this behind Dick Cheney’s back.”
“I’m not sure where you’re going with this,” I said.
“Well, he’s supposed to be doing what the Vice President wants him to, isn’t he? I mean, he’s the Veep’s right-hand man, his go-to guy.”
“Uh huh?”
“But instead, here he is, heading off on his own, just completely out of control. Tying up the office phones calling journalists to talk about Joe Wilson’s wife, using precious work time to try to get revenge on someone who’d attacked the administration’s credibility on that Niger yellowcake thing.”
“He seems to have been pretty busy,” I admitted.
“God, Dick Cheney must feel so betrayed,” he mused. “Counting on Scooter Libby, and Libby pulls a stunt like this.”
“What in the world could have motivated him?” I wondered.
“He must have just lost it,” the guy theorized. “It’s so out of character for him. He worked like a dog for Cheney, always carrying out his instructions with such zeal and thoroughness, maybe he just got carried away. It happens.”
“How do you suppose he kept it a secret from the Vice President?” I wondered.
“That’s really the sad part, isn’t it?” said the guy. “Imagine trying to hide something like that from a boss who trusted you with everything. They were so close that people called Scooter Cheney’s ‘alter ego.’ Cheney has to be devastated, to discover that Libby was doing all those rotten things and keeping him in the dark.”
“You’d think Libby would have ‘fessed up to his boss at some point.”
“You would, but I guess he was just too ashamed.”
“How’s Cheney taking it?” I asked.
“Hard to say. According to the paper, he put out a statement that he had accepted Libby’s resignation ‘with deep regret.’”
“That was generous of him.”
“You know Dick Cheney. He’s not a vindictive man.”
© Tony Russell, 2005
“Yeah, I heard about it on the radio before I left work,” I said.
“It’s just hard to believe, isn’t it?” he said, with a note of lingering surprise.
“What do you mean?”
“You know. That the Vice President’s Chief of Staff—the guy who had such a reputation for loyalty and dedication to the Vice President—would do something like this behind Dick Cheney’s back.”
“I’m not sure where you’re going with this,” I said.
“Well, he’s supposed to be doing what the Vice President wants him to, isn’t he? I mean, he’s the Veep’s right-hand man, his go-to guy.”
“Uh huh?”
“But instead, here he is, heading off on his own, just completely out of control. Tying up the office phones calling journalists to talk about Joe Wilson’s wife, using precious work time to try to get revenge on someone who’d attacked the administration’s credibility on that Niger yellowcake thing.”
“He seems to have been pretty busy,” I admitted.
“God, Dick Cheney must feel so betrayed,” he mused. “Counting on Scooter Libby, and Libby pulls a stunt like this.”
“What in the world could have motivated him?” I wondered.
“He must have just lost it,” the guy theorized. “It’s so out of character for him. He worked like a dog for Cheney, always carrying out his instructions with such zeal and thoroughness, maybe he just got carried away. It happens.”
“How do you suppose he kept it a secret from the Vice President?” I wondered.
“That’s really the sad part, isn’t it?” said the guy. “Imagine trying to hide something like that from a boss who trusted you with everything. They were so close that people called Scooter Cheney’s ‘alter ego.’ Cheney has to be devastated, to discover that Libby was doing all those rotten things and keeping him in the dark.”
“You’d think Libby would have ‘fessed up to his boss at some point.”
“You would, but I guess he was just too ashamed.”
“How’s Cheney taking it?” I asked.
“Hard to say. According to the paper, he put out a statement that he had accepted Libby’s resignation ‘with deep regret.’”
“That was generous of him.”
“You know Dick Cheney. He’s not a vindictive man.”
© Tony Russell, 2005
Monday, November 14, 2005
“Inflammatory Rhetoric of the Most Violent Kind”
Leaders from both political parties have joined together to denounce Sen. Harry Reid’s statement that President Bush and Vice-President Dick Cheney should apologize for the actions of their aides. Both Scooter Libby and Karl Rove have been implicated in efforts to silence opponents of the administration’s covert plan to pull the nation into war in Iraq.
“This is outrageous!” said Rep. Tom DeLay (R-Texas) of Reid’s statement. “It’s inflammatory rhetoric of the most violent kind.”
“Extremist positions of this type are precisely what have cost Democrats any credibility on national security issues,” added Sen. Bill Frist (R-Tenn).
Reid’s bare-knuckled assault on the administration was hastily rejected by leading Democrats as well. Sen. Hillary Clinton (D-NY), frequently mentioned as a potential Democratic presidential nominee in 2008, issued a statement saying, “The administration can be faulted for not sending in enough troops to do the job in invading Iraq, and for not having a plan in place for the resulting occupation, but as Americans, we can all agree that our brave men and women, living and dead, who fought so valiantly against Iraqi forces, living and dead, deserve our full support.”
In a veiled reference to her husband’s tenure in the White House, Sen. Clinton said, “My husband and I still recall the civility and evenhandedness with which the special prosecutor and his staff treated us in our own difficulties. It is unthinkable that we would not extend President Bush and his staff the same courtesy and respect.”
Sen. Reid defended his remarks. “I understand that asking for an apology is really bringing out the big guns, but I believe, given the circumstances, it is not inappropriate. We are a nation of law and reason, and even something as extreme as a call for an apology can be justified in some situations.”
Opponents of the war were heartened by Reid’s stand. “It’s this kind of tough, hard-nosed behavior that has been lacking for so long in Congress,” said a spokesperson for MoveOn.org. “It’s about time somebody called the administration to account. Hopefully, Sen. Reid’s forceful leadership on this issue will inspire other Democrats to take up the fight.”
Republicans, who led impeachment proceedings against Pres. Clinton for having a blowjob in the Oval Office, rejected Reid’s explanation. “Clinton’s behavior struck at the very heart of the Presidency,” said Republican lobbyist Jack Abramoff. “The actions of a few aides, taken in the context of their patriotic fervor to defend our country, pale by comparison.”
Since the Bush administration plunged the nation into war in Iraq, over 2,000 U.S. soldiers have died, with no end in sight. An estimated 42,000 Iraqis have died as well, many of them women and children. Thousands more have been wounded. Many have been tortured. It is now clear that the administration used discredited, unreliable, and even forged evidence to make the case for war. At the same time the President was publicly saying he hadn’t made up his mind whether to go to war, he had already told the Saudi ambassador privately that war was in the works. Plans were coordinated with Britain, the main U.S. partner in the adventure, and the head of Britain’s intelligence reported to the British cabinet that “intelligence was being fixed” around the push for war. Meanwhile, the administration secretly diverted $700,000,000 intended for the war in Afghanistan to preparations for an Iraqi war, concealing the spending from Congress. The U.S. budget is deep in red ink, and programs such as Medicare and Medicaid are being slashed to help cut the deficit.
Republicans have called upon Sen. Reid to apologize for calling for an apology.
© Tony Russell, 2005
“This is outrageous!” said Rep. Tom DeLay (R-Texas) of Reid’s statement. “It’s inflammatory rhetoric of the most violent kind.”
“Extremist positions of this type are precisely what have cost Democrats any credibility on national security issues,” added Sen. Bill Frist (R-Tenn).
Reid’s bare-knuckled assault on the administration was hastily rejected by leading Democrats as well. Sen. Hillary Clinton (D-NY), frequently mentioned as a potential Democratic presidential nominee in 2008, issued a statement saying, “The administration can be faulted for not sending in enough troops to do the job in invading Iraq, and for not having a plan in place for the resulting occupation, but as Americans, we can all agree that our brave men and women, living and dead, who fought so valiantly against Iraqi forces, living and dead, deserve our full support.”
In a veiled reference to her husband’s tenure in the White House, Sen. Clinton said, “My husband and I still recall the civility and evenhandedness with which the special prosecutor and his staff treated us in our own difficulties. It is unthinkable that we would not extend President Bush and his staff the same courtesy and respect.”
Sen. Reid defended his remarks. “I understand that asking for an apology is really bringing out the big guns, but I believe, given the circumstances, it is not inappropriate. We are a nation of law and reason, and even something as extreme as a call for an apology can be justified in some situations.”
Opponents of the war were heartened by Reid’s stand. “It’s this kind of tough, hard-nosed behavior that has been lacking for so long in Congress,” said a spokesperson for MoveOn.org. “It’s about time somebody called the administration to account. Hopefully, Sen. Reid’s forceful leadership on this issue will inspire other Democrats to take up the fight.”
Republicans, who led impeachment proceedings against Pres. Clinton for having a blowjob in the Oval Office, rejected Reid’s explanation. “Clinton’s behavior struck at the very heart of the Presidency,” said Republican lobbyist Jack Abramoff. “The actions of a few aides, taken in the context of their patriotic fervor to defend our country, pale by comparison.”
Since the Bush administration plunged the nation into war in Iraq, over 2,000 U.S. soldiers have died, with no end in sight. An estimated 42,000 Iraqis have died as well, many of them women and children. Thousands more have been wounded. Many have been tortured. It is now clear that the administration used discredited, unreliable, and even forged evidence to make the case for war. At the same time the President was publicly saying he hadn’t made up his mind whether to go to war, he had already told the Saudi ambassador privately that war was in the works. Plans were coordinated with Britain, the main U.S. partner in the adventure, and the head of Britain’s intelligence reported to the British cabinet that “intelligence was being fixed” around the push for war. Meanwhile, the administration secretly diverted $700,000,000 intended for the war in Afghanistan to preparations for an Iraqi war, concealing the spending from Congress. The U.S. budget is deep in red ink, and programs such as Medicare and Medicaid are being slashed to help cut the deficit.
Republicans have called upon Sen. Reid to apologize for calling for an apology.
© Tony Russell, 2005
Monday, November 07, 2005
“Out of Gas”
We were off on the side of the road, hoping somebody with a gas can would stop. “If we had to run out of gas, this is a great place to do it!” I said enthusiastically. “I’ve seen a six-point buck and an eight-point buck already, and we’ve only been here a little over an hour.”
Patty was seething. “Ace, I pointed out four exits back that the gas was low. I reminded you three exits back. I told you two exits back we were almost on empty. Right before the last exit I told you the gas gauge was in the red.”
“Whoa there, Patty,” I said. “Let’s not play the blame game. Who could have known that you can go less than thirty miles when the gauge shows empty? They just don’t make ‘em the way they used to.”
“That’s what you said the last time we ran out of gas,” she complained. “And the time before that. And the time before that.”
“These things happen,” I said. “Nobody could have predicted it.”
“I hope you’re happy that we’re missing my baby sister’s wedding,” she said bitterly.
“Hey,” I joked, “if we miss this one, we’ll just catch Louellen the next time around.”
“She’s only been married twice,” hissed Patty. “At least she’s got sense enough to know when she’s made a mistake. Unlike some people I know.”
“Hey, wait just a minute there,” I said. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Ace,” she said, “you remind me of George Bush.”
“Well, it’s about time you had something nice to say about me,” I said with relief.
“He gets a briefing that al Qaeda has a plot cooking to use domestic airplanes in a terrorist attack, and he decides to stay on vacation and chop some more wood. Then, when they level the World Trade Center, he’s all outraged innocence. Taken completely by surprise.
“He ignores warnings from the State Department and people like Senator Byrd that he needs to have a plan in place for managing Iraq once we’ve conquered it, and then he skips ahead to get a war going in time for the election. When everything turns to chaos—looting, power and water supplies cut off to huge parts of the country, security nonexistent—he acts as if it was inevitable.
“He ignores the almost-unanimous warnings of scientists that our auto emissions and old power plants are major contributors to the greenhouse effect, and fights to let them both keep spewing out pollution. Then when the warm ocean turns mild hurricanes into killers, he claims they’re acts of God.
“He cuts funding to repair levies in New Orleans, lets his developer buddies drain the marshes that acted as natural buffer zones, guts the Federal Emergency Management Agency of its professionals and turns it over to incompetent cronies, ignores warnings of what would happen if a major hurricane should hit, and decides to hang out for another five days of vacation when the city is drowning and people are dying.”
“What are you saying here, Patty?” I asked. “That the guy’s unlucky, or what?”
She cut loose with some language which, frankly, I found shocking. “Patty,” I said, “your mother raised you better than that.”
She glared at me. “’Moron’ is not a four-letter word.”
“Look, Patty,” I said, “cut me some slack. If you’re going to make me out to be George Bush, how about your being a little more like Harriet Miers, and a lot less like Cindy Sheehan?”
“Ace,” she said, “I’d cut my tongue out with a rusty jackknife before I’d tell you you’re the most brilliant man I’ve ever known.”
“Wait a minute,” I protested. “If Harriet Miers can do it, what’s your problem?”
© Tony Russell, 2005
Patty was seething. “Ace, I pointed out four exits back that the gas was low. I reminded you three exits back. I told you two exits back we were almost on empty. Right before the last exit I told you the gas gauge was in the red.”
“Whoa there, Patty,” I said. “Let’s not play the blame game. Who could have known that you can go less than thirty miles when the gauge shows empty? They just don’t make ‘em the way they used to.”
“That’s what you said the last time we ran out of gas,” she complained. “And the time before that. And the time before that.”
“These things happen,” I said. “Nobody could have predicted it.”
“I hope you’re happy that we’re missing my baby sister’s wedding,” she said bitterly.
“Hey,” I joked, “if we miss this one, we’ll just catch Louellen the next time around.”
“She’s only been married twice,” hissed Patty. “At least she’s got sense enough to know when she’s made a mistake. Unlike some people I know.”
“Hey, wait just a minute there,” I said. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Ace,” she said, “you remind me of George Bush.”
“Well, it’s about time you had something nice to say about me,” I said with relief.
“He gets a briefing that al Qaeda has a plot cooking to use domestic airplanes in a terrorist attack, and he decides to stay on vacation and chop some more wood. Then, when they level the World Trade Center, he’s all outraged innocence. Taken completely by surprise.
“He ignores warnings from the State Department and people like Senator Byrd that he needs to have a plan in place for managing Iraq once we’ve conquered it, and then he skips ahead to get a war going in time for the election. When everything turns to chaos—looting, power and water supplies cut off to huge parts of the country, security nonexistent—he acts as if it was inevitable.
“He ignores the almost-unanimous warnings of scientists that our auto emissions and old power plants are major contributors to the greenhouse effect, and fights to let them both keep spewing out pollution. Then when the warm ocean turns mild hurricanes into killers, he claims they’re acts of God.
“He cuts funding to repair levies in New Orleans, lets his developer buddies drain the marshes that acted as natural buffer zones, guts the Federal Emergency Management Agency of its professionals and turns it over to incompetent cronies, ignores warnings of what would happen if a major hurricane should hit, and decides to hang out for another five days of vacation when the city is drowning and people are dying.”
“What are you saying here, Patty?” I asked. “That the guy’s unlucky, or what?”
She cut loose with some language which, frankly, I found shocking. “Patty,” I said, “your mother raised you better than that.”
She glared at me. “’Moron’ is not a four-letter word.”
“Look, Patty,” I said, “cut me some slack. If you’re going to make me out to be George Bush, how about your being a little more like Harriet Miers, and a lot less like Cindy Sheehan?”
“Ace,” she said, “I’d cut my tongue out with a rusty jackknife before I’d tell you you’re the most brilliant man I’ve ever known.”
“Wait a minute,” I protested. “If Harriet Miers can do it, what’s your problem?”
© Tony Russell, 2005
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