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Monday, November 26, 2007
DREGULATOR VOL. VI # 24: ABANDON ALL HOPE, YE WHO ENTER POLITICS
"The darkest places in hell are reserved for those who maintain their neutrality in times of moral crisis."
--Dante Aleghieri
14 months to the expiration date on the most hair-raisingly treasonous abuse of public trust seen in a developed, first-world country since the Third Reich, and now, all of a sudden, everyone's an armchair Keith Olbermann.
All the poisons that lurk in the mud are beginning to hatch out, in the form of more mud from the mouths of lackeys, concubines and other secret-keeping vermin who just can't seem to keep the bad pork down anymore.
It's a rash of Hey-What-Do-You-Know?-I-Just-Found-My-Long-Lost-Whistle-type-Whistleblowers. Or: Now That The Good Ship Lobby-Pop is Sinking, I Am Trumpeting My Innocence and Moral Relevance-type Whistleblowers.
Snitches are revolting enough. A late snitch really deserves a whole new English Basement to be dug out under Hell.
Take, for example, Former White House Press Secretary Scott McClellan, who I once nicknamed "The Mouthpiece of Human Evil" and/or the "The Undertaker of Information" because he took perfectly healthy words and brutally mangled all the truth out of them, in order to deliver his statements freshly lifeless, in a clean white coffin.
McClellan's new book says he was lied to about the outing of CIA operative Valerie Plame, and "unknowingly" lied to the American Public....which is like saying the butcher "unknowingly" plastic-wrapped the meat into Styrofoam shells before realizing it was a dead animal.
I was briefly in the White House Press Corps (or Press Corpse), sitting in front of McClellan during the Valerie Plame Beatdown of '05. It was like eating diabetic Jell-o with a plastic spoon.
A few months later, McClellan and I were on the same plane to DC coming home from Vegas.
He was flying coach, and looked like the better angels of his conscience had been heel-kicking him in the kidneys for weeks. His eyes had the type of round, black bruises around them one gets from prolonged, weeping fits of guilt and self-loathing. His big soft wife was petting him like a sick child. He was trying to read the same terribly abused Tom Clancy novel that it looked like he'd been trying to read for months, and had dropped in the bathtub so many times it had become completely round, like a pom-pom.
My point: He looked exactly like a man that knew he'd done something unforgivable, and that was back in '06.
And then, of course, there's the unthinkable Judith Regan.
(Cue Pink Floyd soundtrack: Ooooh, I need a dirty woman.....)
Ms. Regan recently filed a $100 million lawsuit against HarperCollins, yet another holding in Rupert Murdoch's ubiquitous Vatican of propaganda, ostensibly to flip the script on her dismissal following the O. J. Simpson "If I Did It" fiasco.
Ms. Regan had been Lady Macbeth-ing over at News Corporation for quite some time, and doesn't appreciate how they don't seem to appreciate everything she did for them.
Like, for example, doing her author Bernie Kerik, in a love nest next to Ground Zero while publishing Kerik's draping of the post-9/11 American flag about himself in, "The Lost Son: A Life in Pursuit of Justice."
She apparently learned a thing or three during these bestial fits of passion.
The Regan Woman, as Frank Rich refers to her, "knows a lot about Mr. Kerik, Mr. Giuliani and the Murdoch empire. And she could talk."
She might even be more shrill than usual on the topic Rich identified from the lawsuit as:
"A senior executive in the News Corporation organization told Regan that he believed she had information about Kerik that, if disclosed, would harm Giuliani's presidential campaign. This executive advised Regan to lie to, and to withhold information from, investigators concerning Kerik.'"
Italics mine.
I was on Judith Regan's TV show once. She hadn't actually read my book, so she asked me to comment extensively on the Charles Bukowski quote I used on the first page. She knows how to massage a storyline, alright.
Even the Archbishop of Canterbury dusted off his chausibles and jumped on this late dogpile of condemnation against American Imperial expansion:
"There is something about western modernity which really does eat away at the soul...We have only one global hegemonic power. It is not accumulating territory: it is trying to accumulate influence and control. That's not working."
Hey, thanks for noticing, Padrino.
And finally, in her quest for justice, Heather Mills McCartney is threatening to release videotapes from her couples therapy sessions, begging the question: Paul? You let her tape those? Hope you brought your guitar.
What unthinkable wild card will it take to get Cheney impeached anyway: immigrant ovens?
Amen, Fiends.
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COMMENTS
Here's the DC Career Track in a nutshell: Elected Official: Go directly to K Street after term is up, collect millions of dollars. Political Appointee: Do the bidding of your Dark Lords, resign to spend time with family; write a book you hope washes the blood off of your hands and umm collect millions of dollars.
And what about The Father of All Lies himself, Karl Rove on Charlie Rose peddling his latest cart of dung that Congress pushed Bush into the war in Iraq?
Bush constantly says that History will judge whether he was right or wrong, but INSTANT HISTORICAL REVISION? Bitch, the people who remember how it went down are all still alive. It doesn't work that way.
For what it's worth, Scott McClellan was never very convincing in his job. I got the impression that there were men in another room with a soldering iron and ball peen hammers ready to mutilate his family to the fifth cousin if he deviated from the script. It doesn't mean he isn't a slime ball enabler, but he looked so desperate all the time. I'll bet he had botox done on his forehead and underarms to keep the flopsweat at bay.
Tony Snow was just plain smarmy and evil and I got an odd satisfaction knowing that he was a Russian Nesting Doll of corruption. While he was gnawing away at the truth, something was gnawing away at him from the inside. Did he think he looked noble and brave wasting away at the podium?
Now we have a Press Secretary who fits the Administration she serves. Dana Perino is smug, argumentative and nasty. I expect her to end every answer with "and your little dog. too!"
Her book will be a sight to behold.
Posted by: steven at November 29, 2007 9:57 AM
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