Uncivil Discourse

Because civility is overrated.

Thursday, July 07, 2005

Karl Rove In Jail (An Unlikely Fantasy)

As he applied ointment to his sore, semen-encrusted anus, Karl Rove shook his head. He knew trying to get involved with the white supremacists was a bad idea, but what other gang would take his chubby white ass? And now that was a bust. All because he couldn't stop himself from trying to play off the various gang factions against themselves, allowing him to rise to the top, controlling the same sorts of people he had once controlled as George W. Bush's keeper. "Sloppy, Karl, real sloppy," he thought to himself, wincing as he hit a particular sore patch of ass. And the guards, just watching? Didn't they know who the fuck he was? He was Turd Blossom, the closest advisor to the President of these goddamned United States. Some respect he was being shown.

All those years, he had no idea it was really like this, the way prisoners were treated. The stories about rape, beatings: those were just liberals trying to get prisoners to be coddled, as Ann Coulter constantly pointed out. Suddenly, Karl's anger flared back up. Fuck 'em. They were mean to him. He'd just have to make sure he never came back before reletting out his rage at the way he's been abused on the rest of the country, especially on those damned liberals who put him in this mess. Oh, how they would pay. He could just see them now, sniveling at his poor fortune. Because that's what it was, just bad luck. He didn't really do anything wrong. It was that goddamned cunt, Judith Miller. Sure, she had served her purposes well, but he should've known that she was, in the end, a pushover. Without her, they had nothing. Nothing. Oh, how the anger had risen up in him when they took him away in handcuffs, Joseph Wilson grinning wildly all the while. But of course, that motherfucker and his prissy little wife had it coming. How dare they call him on the yellowcake story? Didn't they know their place?

Suddenly, Rove is paralyzed by fear. What if he dies in here? Certainly, that's possible, and the guards wouldn't do anything. Rove shivered. He'd never been in a situation like this. Certainly not at the University of Utah or as president of the College Republicans. Those were fond times, getting his start, kicking around with Lee Atwater. Poor, poor, Lee, so misguided at the end, thinking there was an error to his ways. But now it occurs to Rove that maybe Atwater was right, that maybe Lee is in hell, having certain dirty tricks played on him for eternity by the Devil -- tricks that might involve a pitchfork and certain body parts. Oh, the horror, seeing his face instead of Lee's in a Hellish vision. "Perhaps I was mistaken...perhaps I in fact haven't done anything worth doing with my life."

Just as suddenly as it came on, he snaps out of it. Of course Lee Atwater, that sorry, weak sap, was mistaken. Look at all Karl Rove had accomplished, getting that organ monkey to be elected governor of Texas and President, both twice! How can something so effective be wrong? It just didn't make any sense. Probably a side effect of the disgusting, moldy food they made him eat here. In any case, he had the trump card. If it got too bad, he could always give up Dubya. "Turd Blossom" his ass. Gotta look out for Number One, after all. But of course it wouldn't come to that. He'd be out of here in no time. Fucking savages, all of them. He takes a big shit and goes to sleep, knowing his back will be killing him tomorrow morning, just like it did every morning.

The next day, at shower time, Rove gets a feeling something's wrong. He looks over his shoulder and sees White Supremacist Bill with, oh dear god, an electric blender in his hand, approaching Rove menacingly, penis bared. Karl Rove gulps, truly knowing fear. Suddenly, Rove knows what he needs to do: he needs to get the fuck out of here. Fuck Bush. He'll go as soon as he can to the warden and tell him what the deal is.

And as the blender head penetrates his anus, he screams in agony, screaming about how he'll tell them everything he knows, how he'll give up George W. Bush, if only for the love of god they'd put him in a cushy minimum security prison, and why the hell aren't the guards doing anything?

Note: Sadly, of course, it would never come to this. No, even if Rove were somehow charged and found guilty of something serious, he would be pardoned, just like Bush's pappy pardoned Casper Weinberger and those other Iran-Contra constitution-subverting motherfuckers. As satisfying as this is, we may as well not get worked up, because our hearts will only get broken.

Pity, that. I was just starting to get excited by the thought of Karl Rove being sodomized violently by some very nice, large men.