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FDL Late Nite: A Visit to the Hellmouth

So, I snuck in to Karl Rove's closet basement, where I found him conjuring the spirits of Richard Nixon and Lee Atwater from Hell during his time of need: 

Enter Richard Nixon and Lee Atwater in a blinding flash of light.  The stench of sulphur fills the room.

Karl:     WTF, guys?

Nixon:  Lighten up, you fat bastard.

Karl:  Hey, I've been losing weight.

Nixon:  Federal investigations will do that to you.

Atwater:  So why did you call us this time?

Karl:     It's that Foley bitch.  It's fucking exploded.

Atwater:  You knew it was just a matter of time.

Nixon:   Blame the faggots.

Karl:  That's only taking us so far.  There are too many of them on the inside, and that Fordham bastard won't take the fall. Bitchy queens.  Now's he's singing to the feds and the rest of the Gay Men's Chorus on the Hill is flirting with blackmailing us because they don't want to be outed.

Nixon:  Don't you have the goods on them?

Karl:  Of course we do, but it's mutually assured destruction.  They know where the pages are buried, and much more.  I've got Mehlman on top of the RNC, ‘fer chrissakes.

Atwater:  Not exactly the "top" type, eh?

Karl:  You could say that.

Atwater:  So what's your next move?

Karl:  The polls are total shit.  Hastert is toxic.  We can't control the story like we do on Iran and stuff because people pay attention to 16 year olds and their jerkoff IM's.  This is bigger than American Fucking Idol.  I'm trying to change the subject as many ways as I know how, but it's not easy.

Nixon:  Attack the media.  Do what you did with Rather:  raise some shit about the fonts and documents.  Create enough smoke about forgeries and conspiracies and maybe things will settle down.

Karl:  But ABC just gave us a nice hand job on 9-11.

Nixon:  All the more reason to apply the pressure now.  After the heat they took, they'll want to do some token shit to make themselves look a little independent, you know, "Hey, we get it from both sides, we're doing something right."  Fuck ‘em.  Brian Ross needs to eat shit.

Karl:  We're working on it.  We're getting to all the pages, or trying to, and no one really wants to be famous. We took a lot of crap over going after them but it had to be done.

Atwater:  But it won't be enough.  You have to go after the Democrats and their treasonous terrorist loving queers as much as you can.  Remind the fundies who the real degenerates are.  Turnout, turnout, turnout.  Get the coloreds, too, somehow.

Karl:  The race thing is a little tougher this year.  Those bastards on the Internet are pushing back.  They got George Allen on the macaca thing, so the media is a little more wary of the race angle.  Fucking Internet liberals. 

Nixon:  You have to kill that Internet shit. Allen's a good guy, but he's ass-cracker stupid.

Karl:  We're working on it. 

Atwater:  So why don't you just dump Hastert, call for an independent investigation from the feds to delay it, have Gonzales set it up right, and make a big push on Iran right away?  Nothing like some night vision cruise missile shit on CNN to get everybody back in line. 

Nixon:  Henry should be able to help with that. 

Karl:  Oh, believe me, Henry wants to go, it's the Joint Chiefs who are grinding it into procedural dust, and the CIA practically has an office set up in Times Square, and not in a good way.  The fucking leaks are killing us.  I can see we have to dump Denny, but the problem is the transition:  there's no good organization in place to stay disciplined going into the election, and once the center gives way on the Hill, it could be a fucking mess, quotes all over the papers, knives out all over.  I need time to build the fallback, some kind of orderly retreat, use Denny as a shield for now. 

Atwater:  Then all you can do is sow confusion and play for time.  Defend on the Sunday shows but get ready to make a transition as soon as next week.  Get everyone lined up to salute the new chief and go into November unified.  

Nixon:  The coverup is killing you.  You have to fake authenticity and pretend to want to get at the truth.  The whole 9-11 Commission thing, a replay.  Better yet, like the Phase II investigation.  Let's face it:  the House is all but lost unless Emanuel totally fucks up, but hang on to the Senate.  You've got to hold the Senate.  If Lee can't help you go after Ford in Tennessee, no one can.  You've got to play the race thing because Powell's book is coming soon.  Lay down some covering fire.  Keep the base tight with robocalls and fliers off the national radar.

Karl:  Yeah, I know.  Fags, n*****s and Muslims, all the way. Confuse the issues and build an orderly retreat.  If I can save Hastert a little longer, I can maybe do some jujitsu as an October surprise and when we dump him, we can position it as a big reform movement.  Let him absorb all the heat late into the cycle, then dump him and we're born again heroes.  Turn it into a plus but promise everyone they'll be covered by an investigation controlled by Gonzales, so they don't have to worry about a new Congress getting in the way.  How does that sound? 

Nixon:  It could work.  You don't have much else.   Good luck.

Atwater:  Yeah, good luck with that.  Oh, and Karl? 

Karl:  Yeah? 

Atwater:  Don't forget Lieberman.

Karl:  Yeah, he's getting all the talking points.  I hate that little prick, but he's useful for now.  Like toilet paper.

Atwater:  Right. . . and oh, Karl?

Karl:  What?

Atwater:  We're keeping a seat here warm for you. 

Karl:  Yeah, I know.  I know.

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Pachacutec

Pachacutec

Pachacutec did not, as is commonly believed, die in 1471. To escape the tragic sight of his successors screwing up the Inca Empire he’d built, he fled east into the Amazon rain forest, where he began chewing lots of funky roots to get higher than Hunter Thompson ever dared. Oddly, these roots gave him not only a killer buzz, but also prolonged his life beyond what any other mortal has known, excluding Novakula. Whatever his doubts of the utility of living long enough to see old friends pop up in museums as mummies, or witness the bizarrely compelling spectacle of Katherine Harris, he’s learned a thing or two along the way. For one thing, he’s learned the importance of not letting morons run a country, having watched the Inca Empire suffer many civil wars requiring the eventual ruler to gain support from the priests and the national military. He now works during fleeting sober moments to build a vibrant progressive movement sufficiently strong and sustainable to drive a pointed stake through the heart of American “conservatism” forever. He enjoys a gay marriage, classic jazz and roots for the New York Mets.

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