Don't Let the Door Hit You in the Ass on the Way OutSince our recent post about generals speaking out on Rummy's gross incompetence, several other generals have joined the group bitch-slap. The generals' say Rummy is arrogant, ignorant of military doctrine and tradition, and apt to decide poorly at critical moments. While the recent comments haven't dwelled much on Rumsfeld's "restructuring" of the military, it's well-known that he gets a bad rap from them on that score as well.
With the number of pissed off generals at six and counting, the Error-in-Chief now feels the need to defend his SecDef. His statement of solidarity with Rummy was the usual corn-fed mix of platitude and humble thanks. Something along the lines of, "He's just what we need at a time like this. He has served his country well and I have complete confidence in his abilities". But. what wasn't said will come from the White House any day now, "Rummy, don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out."
Bush's puppy-like loyalty to his staff is legendary and completely undeserved. He has a history of standing behind cronies long-past the point when a sane person would boot them (Exhibit A: Karl Rove), but his loyalty lasts only as long as he can get away with not doing anything. Case in point, Harriet Miers.
He trotted the poor dumb woman around Congress like a poodle at Westminster, saying she enjoyed his "full support" - right up until his own party was going to stage a revival of Mutiny on the Bounty. Ditto "Heckuva a Job Brownie", who he kept only long enough to perfectly position him as designated fall guy for his and Chertoff's gross incompetence. He even pushed longtime friend and confidant Andy Card off the gangplank when howls for staff change became deafening.
Some people like the Rumster have sat on the bubble for years, but somehow managed to survive longer than a Death Row inmate on appeal. For years, former Interior Secretary Gale Norton went off the ranch like a lost steer before going on to pursue other challenges - Bush-speak for "Women should be seen, but not heard".
Commerce Secretary and Bono-buddy John Snow has dodged the executioner since the day he reported to work - and he's still skating the thin ice amid heckles to fire him in the spirit of change.
Former State Department Wizard Colin Powell was isolated from the inner cabal for most of his term and, not-surprisingly, opted out of the loony bin when the second term came. We're sure Dub was as glad to see him go as he was to leave.
So now, it's Rummy's turn. True, he's been on the ledge before, always saving himself with a linguistically-tortured statement and the visible support of a uniformed toady who probably stood next to him on the podium only at the point of a gun. True, he enjoys the support of the Gun-Nut-in-Chief, but even Cheney's seemingly invincible presence is weaker these days. Hell, even Condi avoids him like a She-Devil scorned by Satan himself.
Rummy has spent his term in a McNamaran isolation bubble, busily undoing the business of the nation's defense. His goal to create a nimble, quickly-deployable army now lost in a miasma of faulty bar-charts, bad PR, and a corporate CEO's penchant to constantly overreach and then blame everyone else when the adventure fails. But, even with a knot head like Bush, a day of reckoning comes for the outstandingly incompetent.
Mark our words. Rummy will decamp for K Street very soon. The talk will be about a humble departure that has nothing to do with all the general-borne falderal. They'll say he's been so spectacularly successful that his work is done and he needs a new challenge. And, they'll even say it with such a straight face you'll almost think they believe it.
Immediately after, Bush will nominate some ex-CEO crony or Assistant Undersecretary to the Secretary in Charge of Military Facial Grooming as Rummy's replacement. He'll tell the poor dupe to keep his mouth shut, don't piss off the generals, and be as invisible as humanly-possible until they can all crawl out of office under the cover of night. The Senate will approve they guy because well, because anyone looks good next to Rummy and the nominee will be so squeaky-clean no one will be able to find any information about him - good, bad, or indifferent. Think of a phantasmagorical John Roberts.
So with his departure eminent, sing along with us as a tribute to Rummy-Dummy:
Happy trails to you,
Un-til we meeet agaaaaain.
Happy trails to you,
Don't dare come back agaaaaain.
Happy trails to you,
You stu-pid frick-in' shit.
Truth Told by Omnipotent Poobah, Friday, April 14, 2006