Here Iraq, There Iraq, Everywhere Iraq-Raq

It's Wednesday night, so our small town's intrepid war protesters took to the streets by the threes, as they do every week. We haven't seen a turnout this big since our lone Republican showed up with a counter-protest placard that said, "You Should Be Ashamed of Yourselves. Ask Me About Amway!"

Tonight's highlight was a man holding the hand of a large Crawford Cowboy effigy in one hand and a sign that said, "Chimpeach!" in the other. The other two were leaning on their placards, like CalTrans employees on break, discussing the ball scores or something. Still, you've got to give them credit. They did show up, even if it was only for the free lemonade.

Despite the attention being focused on Cindy Sheehan's one-woman crusade to talk to El Dumbya, lots of people are just tired of the whole mess. The polls keep sinking, the sawdust-headed marionettes on the Bush team are still spouting incoherent nonsense, and the country is going to hell in a handbasket. Yet, there isn't much moral indignation.


My theory is that the emperor is distracting us by admitting he has no clothes. Think about it. What a cunningly genius plan! His handlers crank out the hard-hitting stories like the one about the new White House Chef - she's a Latina you know, makes real good Texas Tacos - while he stands up at a series of rallies padded by shills who cheer when he farts and tells them such outlandish swill that even they don't believe it in the depths of their homo-hatin' hearts.

His defense is to put up such a lousy defense of his policies that no one can actually work up a lather to argue anymore. It doesn't matter what happens. The Earth could be threatened by a massive meteor and the story would be the same - "The economy's up. Gotta stay the course. We're fightin' for galactic democracy. Stem cells are bad juju. And, I'm very optimistic. Ole' Turd Blossom will back me up on this one, won't ya Karl Boy?" You could no more argue with that defiant a stance against reality than you could try to argue with a two-toothed meth-head as he holds a conversation with his dead brother Earl.

Some people think Shrub is being particularly mean to Mizz Cindy. The fact is, even if he did have a brain he couldn't talk to her. He has everything to lose and nothing to gain, because there is nothing she can say or that he can do that would fix this unholy mess he's gotten us into. Even he, stupid as he is, isn't stupid enough to do that. And truth be told, neither would a liberal Democrat if caught in the same bind. It defies the laws of political physics.

While I have all the sympathy in the world for Sheehan, I think she could make herself a much more eloquent symbol of this mess if she did a few things differently. Cindy, send away all the interest groups that have glommed onto you, get rid of the porta-potties, fire the "assistants", and yank up the crosses. Get a big old Texas-style American flag that you can see for miles across the Texas scrub, stand in the middle of the field night and day, and embarass that dumbass 10 ways from Sunday. When he returns from "vacation" follow him to Washington and dog every step he makes. When he goes on a foreign trip, quietly stand at the edge of every podium and the door of every rubber-chicken dinner holding your flag and saying absolutely nothing.

By doing these simple things you can reduce your battle to what it ought to be - a battle between a grieving mother and the man who is directly responsible for her son's death - not a meeting of advisors from diametrically opposed special interest groups arguing over each other on Hannity and Combes. It's about you and him and no one else.

Do this and there is no way the Dogs of War can fault you. Do this and the moral clarity of your position will scare the bejezzus out of George, because it will be the first time in his coddled and pampered life that someone held him directly responsible for one of the many God-awful decisions he's made. Transfer your suffering to him. And when you fell better, drop him like a used tissue and return to your life happy to have had your son and knowing that you did the right thing to honor his memory.

Yeah. No moral indignation at all.

Truth Told by Omnipotent Poobah, Wednesday, August 17, 2005

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