Uncivil Discourse

Because civility is overrated.

Tuesday, April 19, 2005

Not Quite A Wet Dream, But Close

I was going to post on that motherfucker of motherfuckers John Bolton, but, well, there's no way I can top Rude Pundit's treatment of this bitch. So just go read that shit.

In international news, well, isn't this just peachy? While our media's doing the ostrich thing (seriously, though, I'd be interested if you can find articles on this...I've searched the usual suspects and come up with jack shit), the Taliban are, slowly but surely, coming back. What was that about finishing a job you started? Good fucking lord, it's one thing after another with these clowns. They're like ferrets when it comes to international policy. Afghanistan...oh, a fucking shiny in Iraq, let's go there (with, of course, not enough troops)! Then all of a sudden, the talk turns to Syria and Iran. If it weren't for the insurgency, who knows where the fuck we'd be now. Maybe halfway to Moscow if it weren't for those nukes still pointed at our overeager asses.

Now, I'm not arguing these guys don't have a clue what they're doing. They fucking know what they're doing. There's a very fucking real attempt to make over the world here. It's a combination of a couple of things, from where I see it. There's the "we can't believe in terrorism without a state sponsor" Cold War, put your fingers over your eyes and shout "lalala I can't hear you" blindfold bullshit that led that deviant fuck Paul "I Don't Do EVERYTHING Because of Israel" Wolfowitz to buy into what might qualify as one of the worst theories ever -- that Saddam was behind the goddamned 1993 World Trade Center bombing, and thus had to be a primary suspect for this latest one. Then there's what the more sophisticated members of this gang of motherfucking neocons had in mind: the horrible, horrible geopolitics of it all. The New Republic, back in the day, quoted one State Department official as saying "If the Gulf produced kumquats, do you really think we'd be there right now?"

I bet his sorry ass was sacked for breaking message once they found out who he was. Oh, they can find out who talks to the press real fucking nicely, at least when it doesn't involve outing a deep cover CIA agent working in weapons of mass destruction for political retribution. Then the possibilities are just ENDLESS.

But there's one other reason we here can see that not so many people are apparently picking up on. You see, one of the overreaching ideological objectives of these wannabe players is to "starve the beast." What does that mean? As one of the more evil of these fuckers, Grover "I Heart McKinley" Norquist put it, they want to "shrink government down to the size where they can drown it in the bathtub." You see, "the beast," and please, stop the snickering, they're not referring to a penis, means "the government." The goal is to drive the government into a massive fucking fiscal crisis, where it will summarily implode and be able to function as, well, a honest to goodness government. But that leaves us as vulnerable during this implosion as Bill O'Reilly to a falafel's wiles, so, well, we need to show we can still kick some brown (or yellow, you know, for those damn Commie Chinese) ass.

No, these cuntfaces know exactly what they're doing. They're just inept at it. And to be honest, I don't know if I prefer that or not. Certainly our soldiers and the Iraqi policement probably don't. They're getting sodomized violently while these wankers, well, wank.

Oh, I'm sorry. These sad, sad men have such a big burden having to carry on this war they provoked. After all, Donald Rumsfeld said back in December, "I am truly saddened by the thought that anyone could have the impression that I or others here are doing anything other than working urgently to see that the lives of the fighting men and women are protected and are cared for in every way humanly possible." Poor Don. The man just needs some love. Maybe he can get it from the maimed veterans at Walter Reed Hospital.

You know what I'd like to see? What sometimes, at my most angry, I fantasize about? Displaying Donald Rumsfeld in public. A Donald Rumsfeld stripped naked. Cold blood dumped on him whenever he starts feeling alive again, the blood of the thousands of civilians dead because of him, and the blood of the soldiers dead because of his absolute certainty that Iraq had those fucking weapons. (Speaking of which, why hasn't Bill O'Reilly been sodomized violently with the physical manifestation of his lack of integrity? What happened to "I won't trust the administration again if we don't find WMDs"? Jackass.)

But oh, if Rumsfeld ever cries out in agony, agony at the blood, agony at the cold, agony at the people lined up to laugh at his wrinkled body and his small, undersized balls, he'll be made to feel pain, but not the pain of organ failure, since that would be torture. And Wolfowitz will be there, with the dogs sicced on him, because sometimes you just need to do that, as Trent Lott, who knows a thing or two about siccing dogs on people, might say. And we'll ask him, "What did you fucking know, and when did you know it?"

And we'll forever wonder, what else didn't we know? What else went on? What else was planned? And we'll forever be fucked, because we have no fucking idea just how deep this madness or this psychosis runs.