Face the Snark
Oh my, who thought we'd see the day the Bush culture of corruption flies its flaming Zero of hate into the RNC headquarters, Rumsfeld's kung fu can't stop the speeding Baker bus from running him down, Bush snipes at his Resident Genius™ in front of the press, George Allen heaves his last macaca-covered football into the crowd while a black man (GASP!) takes up residence in the governor's mansion in Massachusetts and a woman (SHRIEK!) takes over the House of Representatives? All this in under a week? NOW would you pay $9.95?
On Friday, a reader emailed me to ask what I was going to do with my blog when Bush was finally retired to his rightful position as sideshow freak ("Come see the Monkey Boy wrestle with logic puzzles!"). I hazarded a guess that I'd probably be institutionalized after spending so much time looking at Emperor Bunnypants' simian photos and listening to his butchered prose. Last week, however, I thought I felt a loosening of the straightjacket straps. Or maybe it was a small flicker of hope slowly burning through the ropes of anger and despair that have constricted my chest for the past six years. Either way, even though I refuse to believe that any of this was pre-planned, I'm not entirely free to abandon my, or anyone else's, blogs; after all, we still have the fight to wage against the pundits in their gilded cages who parrot whatever latest talking point best serves the Republican party and then there are the war crimes trials to look forward to…[insert wistful sigh here]. In any case, politicians will continue to be self-serving, myopic politicians, heads will bobble, and snarky vigilance will be required to keep all of their double-speaking asses in check.
Every thing tastes sweeter today. Even the rain seems rainier, as if the sky was weeping with joy and relief. Last night when we finally tumbled to bed at 2 AM the news was good, and when we opened the NY Times and the Daily News this morning the news was even better–how often does that happen?
If there was a clear mandate that comes from last night's midterm elections, it is this: the American people want the Bush presidency destroyed. However it must be done, it has to be done, so that the only legacy left from his squalid six years is bodies stacked like cordwood for the bonfires of uselessness. If you flinch from this sacred duty, if you pretend to bipartisanship and comity, you will have not heeded the message of the citizenry. Destruction first, so that there will be space for construction.
(Be thankful I didn't link to the Rude One's short story about Karl Rove's leather slave, 'kay?)
Agitprop's Blogenfreude neatly wraps up all of the wingnut flip-outs in a tidy package, clammyc at Booman Tribune analyzes the Right's navel-gazing apres its ass-whipping, roy at alicublog dismisses the bigotsphere's whackitudinal blindness to its favorite party's penchant for scandal, and Steve M. at No More Mister Nice Blog . . . well, he just piles on. By the way, the good folks at World O' Crap are seeking nominations for the title of "Ultimate Wingnut." Cast your votes now!
So, Rumsfeld got kicked to the curb. Driftglass, inter alia, notes that once again, Poppy steps in to clean up Junior's mess:
In addition to a platinum-plated name and the speed-dial Sekrit Number of every world leader of the First Water, Poppy bequeathed to Junior two political gifts beyond price: an electoral machine that could get a tube sock full of dog poop and Hanta virus elected President, and a genuinely bad, all-purpose Wondervillain named Saddam Hussein.
Know what you don't know — take Culture of Truth's quick multiple choice test.
And I thought I was the only one who breaks out in hives whenever Candy Crowley crowds the TV screen. It looks like I'm in good company.