Tuesday, September 11, 2007

Chickenhawks,"Full o' Bluster," Trump Chickenshits

So is that all there is?

Can it be that the "Petreaus Report"and sidekick, the "Crocker Con Job," has come+gone?

Nice (Rovian) touch at the outset when the "Greatest Deliberative Body in the Whole Wide World" couldn't muster a working microphone, then came the Fireworks; buckle up, lock+load this is it.

The Mighty Boreal Wind of Autumn (Keewatin) will sweep away the miasmal smog of mendacity attendent on everything Bushy.

The "Greatest Nation in all of History, chosen, BYGOD" to lead us all , will rise up to "Preserve, Protect+Defend" its Constitution.

"Against any Peril, without or within", "Land of the Free, Home of the Handgun," evidently, not so much.

Earnest Dems whining over minutia are constantly, cunningly countered by Patriotic Pubics defending Old Gory and each and every one making Jubilation T. Cornpone speachifin' 'til boggled the mind.

You can invoice all you want but it's hard to bill a fluster.

When, at four score+, Sen. Warner manages the only question of any gravitas, we can only watch in shock+awe.

As to the elegant logic displayed by the rest, not since the height of the Richard Simmons crusades have so many undistributed middles been it one place, at one time.

Post hoc cruising thru the Progblogs in search of balls will avail you naught but whinging on cringing?

Now the Malls are open Sundays and like, all that protest+ marching stuff is so sixties and besides its NFL/Jasus Day.

Right on Babies, and Pat Tillman? Like we've been there, done that, like its so yesterday and anyways he read some Chomsky. (QED)

Oh, there's still blather aplenty from chickenshits about chickenhawks and wannabe swinging dicks, supphose, subpoenas, suck on this or that, maybe your thumbs.

The only surge that's working is CYA, at un-precedented levels, making Nixon look, not just great, but Glorious.

There is no Honour or Victory to be salvaged out of this morass.

Here, let's consider the efficacy of those damned Dems abandonning "Quagmire" as a useful metaphore with which to beguile a populace, 30% of whom opine that the U.S.A and their German pals saved the World from the Godless Russians.

Tell 'em its a "Morass," how hard can it be to weld that, oddly lubricious, but maleable multi-purpose word onto the Gory Odious Pubics, the hoi polloi will get the drift.

Its high time we recalled how Jacob Too Too (and his coalition) vanquished the dreaded "Hooded Fang."

Speaking of swinging dicks, some redemption would flow from selectively straining some Pennsylvainia Ave. lamp-posts, soon.

But Yankees, as brave as Roumanians? As if.

Of course, none of this matters a tinker's damn.

Ecologically, our ends are in plain sight and Arbusto's legacy is the theft of a crucial eight years when we might have done other things.

Sic transit hominum, T.S.E.

Coming soon:
The serge morphs to gaberdine then seersucker then wall to wall Persian carpet bombing, forcing the Iranian/Russian/Chinese alliance to bitch slap U.S neocons back into the stalls.

Caution: War will give you gas, maybe.

Buenas noches, mi amigos, vaya con Gaia and goodnight to the Jims, Lovelock+Hansen, and Mrs Calabash wherever you are.