Mr. Iceberg, Meet Miss TitanicPoor George. Everyone's beating the crap out of him lately. Not that he doesn't deserve it, but you can almost feel his pain. Even when the Crapweasel-in-Chief reaps what he's sown, it's hard to watch. He's being kicked while he's not only down, but damn near unconscious, and wearing a huge "kick me" sign on his back.
Months of plummeting polls, carping from his own party, and blunder after blunder have forced him to do something rarely seen from this administration - take advice.
We're not sure where he got the idea to shake things up. We're pretty sure it didn't come from the sniveling bastards dedicated to keeping his bubble intact. It couldn't have been from the news because he boasts about not reading or watching news (unless it's on Fox). And there's no way it was his own idea. George never had an original thought in his pampered-ass life.
Maybe it was Laura mumbling in her sleep. "George, you're an idiot. Mama told me so. She never did like you. She told me to dump you like a steaming pile of west Texas prairie dog shit. Dammit! You're not taking me down with you. Get your sorry ass in gear and do something...yawn...mammuph."
"George, you're an idiot. Mama told me so. She never did like you. She told me to dump you like a steaming pile of west Texas prairie dog shit."
So George wakes up and does what he does best, cock things up.
He looks over at Andy Card and says, "Andy, I know you've given me everything you have. Your time, your family, your health. But I'm in a pickle and Presidents can't be pickled. You're fired! And none of that sniffling shit either. Makes me nervous. Just to make it square, I'll pay for half the fare to have you shipped back home."
Then, with Laura's entreaties echoing in his freakishly large ears, he reaches real deep for a fresh-face, an agent of change. He picks Josh Bolten - what is it with Bolt(on)es with this guy? Apparently, Bolten having been in the job as long as Card, is just as burned out, and is a fellow sniveling bastard from across the hall doesn't seem to occur to him. Change is change, right?
So he tells old Josh, "You're my new Numero Uno buddy. I'm the Decider. I'm giving you all the power you want. Shake things up like a paint shaker at the Crawford Home Depot. Fire anyone you want. Betray anyone you want - except Dick and Rummy because they've got those compromising pictures of me with a goat - just as long as I can stick to my vacation schedule. Got some brush to cut back in Crawford you know."
So Josh cranks up the political weedwhacker. Chop, chop, chop. Boxes on the White House org chart start moving so fast it's like musical chairs at the Texas State fair. People are being shit-canned and demoted left and right. OMIGOD! Even the main man, Turd Blossom, gets cut down to size.
But Josh, in his inbred wisdom, doesn't see that political shuffleboard isn't going to hack it. Some say switching people like a demonic three-card monte game without making policy change is like shuffling the deck chairs on the Titanic. Of course, that presupposes the Titanic was seaworthy to begin with and we all know how that ended - Mr. Iceberg, meet Miss Titantic.
Judging from all the falderal, it looks like George's bubble has finally calcified into a cast iron shell. Generations of inbred politicians will do that to a bubble.
I'd really like George to succeed, because quite frankly, we can't afford for him to fail. However, I don't think replacing one burned out, cousin-kissing hack with another will result in much except making the iron shell harder.
Clearly, somebody needs to hand him a cutting torch soon or we're all in a world of hurt.
Truth Told by Omnipotent Poobah, Thursday, April 20, 2006