I figured out what President Bush was talking about as he keeps giving those speeches about his “victory plan” in Iraq.
I know a lot of people have been left scratching their heads (those few brave souls who’ve been watching the Rummy-Cheney-Bush cheerleading war campaign on cable TV) trying to fathom what the plan is. They certainly aren’t giving any hints about it. Well, there’s a reason: the plan hasn’t been concocted yet! This is how I know: the federal government – specifically, the U.S. International Development Agency – put out a call for “grant applicants” (I’m not making this up) to apply for the job of “creating a plan to stabilize 10 cities in Iraq … The number of cities could expand or contract … and implementing said plan in the future.” The grant was posted publicly Nov. 30 (the day BushCo started its “victory” PR campaign) and is open to anyone and pays $1 billion. The big winner will be chosen at the end of January.
This is for real, folks. Bernie Ward has been chatting about this all week on KGO news talk radio. We know they’ve subcontracted torture around the world. Now they’re subcontracting the entire war. Government for Sale!
President Cheney is going around saying, “Critics of the war forget one thing: 9-11.” No, actually, Mr. Cheney, is was you who forgot 9-11. You and your gang got a big fat F (indeed, five F’s) from the 9-11 Commission for doing NOTHING to make this nation safer after the World Trade Center attacks. Did you know that to this very moment, more than four years after the attacks (by Al Queda and Bin Forgotten and Saudi Arabian fanatics, not the Iraqis), police and firemen throughout this country still can’t talk to each other on their radios? Remember how many had to die in New York because of that? I do, Mr. Cheney. Of course, we all suspected it for years, we knew it when Katrina hit the Gulf Coast, that this government, this cabal, has been taxing the bejeezus out of us and doing … what with the money? Paying oodles of subcontractors, private specialists, to torture their perceived enemies and write reams of drippy propaganda dressed as “journalism” in Baghdad.
Our soldiers are dying for a war that should have never happened, against a country that didn’t attack us and doesn’t want our brand of democracy. The Internet reports 2,134 dead as of Wednesday – but the real number, according to the Department of Defense’s own formula, is more like 10,000 Americans dead.
So George “Baby Doc” Bush, Rummy and Cheney are going around to what they think are friendly, military audiences, setting up photo ops and aping pap written for them by Turd Blossom (I’m not calling him that; that’s what George calls Karl Rove and I am not making that up either). Bush is also touting how the economy is flourishing.
Reality check: This nation’s economy has never been worse, it’s an economy solely based on housing at this point and realtors have been warning that the housing market bubble is about to burst sky high, by next year, while the economy tanks into a sink-hole. Bush’s theme song shouldn’t be Hail to the Chief. I’m thinking “Everything’s Coming up Roses and Lollipops” would be more apropos. I can see him skipping through the brush lands of Crawford hand-in-hand with Condi Rice, the two of them crooning that at the top of their lungs.
“Torture? What torture? We don’t do no stinking torture! And it’s none of your business when we do it (thanks for the money)!”
Don’t think I’m any happier with the Democrats. I’ve never seen a more spineless, frightened bunch of wussies in my life. With the exception of Rep. Nancy Pelosi, Rep. Jack Murtha and Vermont Governor Howard Dean, how can these so-called representatives sleep with themselves? They’re as clueless as Baby Doc Bush when it comes to understanding what the American people want.
We want out of Iraq. Murtha has a plan. Why don’t they quit doing photo ops and get behind it?
San Carlos Creek Update: In the toxic hellhole of New Idria, we’ve decided to cover ourselves. My family and I are terrified that someday if there’s another attack on America, Bush might turn around and bomb the wrong nation again. Perhaps this time it will be the tiny orange island state of New Idria instead of Iraq.
We wanted to build a border around our sovereign nation, a barbed wire and broken glass affair to discourage riff-raff from the nation beyond, but it just didn’t seem sufficient.
“How about a sewage moat?” said my sister Mel, the Tambourine Virtuoso. “We could build it around the perimeter of town.”
“And have to watch that dirty orange cat water skiing every day?” quipped my brother Kemp. “No doing.”
Kemp, however, did come up with a terrific solution. He’s created blueprints for a platinum semi-Dyson’s Sphere to cover the defunct mining town. It would be sort of like living under a huge, impenetrable silver dome, like a mercury-addled halibut under a butler’s silver tray cover.
“But where are we going to get the money for such an ambitious public works project?” I inquired.
“If America can chalk up an $8 trillion deficit, why can’t we?” he said.
Why not, indeed. But as Mel and I were digging ditches for the project the other day, I told her not to quit her day job.