Friday, July 22, 2005

Tell me something good

It's a little bit funny, this feeling inside. On the one hand, this completely bullshit quasi-oppressive regime we've been living under since 2000 is, let's face it, a fucking drag...on the other hand...it kind of feels, doesn't it? Like the worm is about to turn?

Rove's and Libby's inability to keep their stories straight is going to nail them to the wall faster than if they were a piece of pop art on Trading Spaces with five minutes to go until the reveal. I mean, seriously...for a group of guys whose uncanny ability to stay "on message" is nothing short of insect-like hive-mindedness they seem to have fallen apart faster than Stooly McPigeon under the hot lights at the station. "Uh...he told me her name first. Or...no, wait, I told him her name only AFTER I had read it in the papers...er...9/11! Fighting the terrorists there so we don't have to fight them here! Freedom is on the march!"

So that Midas touch Rove seemed to have had turns out to be the opposite, in that everything that has touched him is going to turn to shit. And once all the dots are connected, all the spinning in the world isn't going to save them.

In my dreamworld, we would mash together CourtTV with Scarborough Country and the O'Reilly Factor for the trial of the entire Bush cabinet, along with Rush, O'Reilly, and Hannity just for contributing to the war effort and causing so many deaths. I mean, rather than them interrupting my shows for a stupid ass press conference saying the SAME SHIT OVER AGAIN or telling me that Michael Jackson didn't blow that boy, I'd be mising Fear Factor for something even better...Bush shitting his pants in fear of being a big biker's butt boy. Sitting in an off-the-rack suit in the middle of the courtroom claiming still to be President of the United States. Shots of him in his tighty whities walking around his cell.

Now THAT, Alanis, would be irony.

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