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Danny |
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I
know, I know. It’s been
weeks since we last spoke. I’ve
been wandering around on a tropical isle trying to clear my head of all
the politics and war, death and destruction, and the screaming wackos
who make a living shouting each other down on TV.
This kind of thing usually works to recharge the batteries- -80
degree temperatures, balmy breezes, miles of pristine beach and the
feeling that the whole world could end and word wouldn’t really reach
you until some yellowed newspaper many days old might wash ashore with a
few survivors- -real ones not the TV game show ones.
Except now they have it no matter where you go- -cable TV.
So you can stumble in all suntan oil and beach sand, do the quick
time zone math to see how far you really are from Washington, and tune
in the daily follies just as if you were home.
Is there no escaping?? I
tried not to watch. I tried
to stay in the rain forest or on the beach far from it all. Beautiful birds. Beautiful
flowers. The mellowing
white noise of waves constantly tickling the shore. But I failed. I
peeked. Dick Clarke, Condi
Rice, Fallujah, Basra, Libyan Turkey Farms.
It’s so unreal when you can step back out through sliding patio
doors to a paradise where all of this is a dream.
Okay, a nightmare. Just
as I was leaving the mainland of America for Southern Pacific shores,
Richard Clarke’s book was being released.
My first thoughts were like everyone else’s: American
Bandstand. Who better
to tell the story than Dick Clarke?
This might be interesting! Of
course, I was wrong, as I heard this
Dick Clarke speak about his career in government.
At
first I thought like many others that this was simply a disgruntled
bureaucrat passed over for promotion one more time and spilling the
beans with a chip on his shoulder.
But the more I listened, the more it became clear that this was a
John Dean or a David Stockman telling how it
really was behind closed doors.
And it was scarily inept. The
day Condi Rice was asked for the name of the August 6, 2001 Presidential
Daily Briefing paper (the PDB), I was reminded of Dana Carvey from years
ago on Saturday Night Live as “The Church Lady” asking “Could it
be…(long pause)… SATAN??” Condi rolled her eyes, thought long and hard, and looked to
the ceiling of the 9/11 Commission hearing room as if straining to
remember. She then said
something to the effect “I think it was called ‘Bin Laden To Attack
America Shortly, Maybe Within A Month Or So, In A Manner That Will Be So
Awesome That We Will Not Be Able To Comprehend It Even As It Is
Happening’ although I’m not sure of the correct wording.”
And she recalled this as if it had been no big deal, as if the
PDB had revealed “Chocolate Ice Cream Top Flavor With Kids”. I
tried to avoid thinking about this by returning to the beach.
But shortly thereafter it was announced that the President would
address the nation on “Prime Time” TV (although for me it was noon).
He called it a “press conference”, which meant he would take
a few queries from select White House Embeds, but only after giving a
twenty minute political speech about how well things had been going in
Iraq. “I
am here tonight to announce that my War of Reelection is going
incredibly well. We have
made progress. We have
begun to instill democracy in Iraq.
The Iraqi people love us. Just
look at Fallujah and Basra. They
can’t get enough of us. They
bring our troops candy and flowers.
We will soon open a Six
Flags Over Baghdad amusement park complete with water slide.
It will feature such attractions as “Pin The Tail On The
Shiite’s Donkey” and a roller coaster just like the one at the Six
Flags in California called “The Revolution”, except here, it may
actually spark a revolution”. And
then the guy from TIME magazine asks about who we are handing
“power” over to on June 30th, and Bushie goes into his
best ever Jackie Gleason: “Humminah, humminah, humminah, humminah…ah…you
wait and find out. You’ll
know when we do.” Great
camera shots at this point of The Vulcans sitting off to the side,
especially that fat piggy-wig Karl Rove, who we hear has trouble with
masturbation. Or was it
that he’s just a jerk-off? I’ll
have to check. Members of
the Cabinet and staff fidgeting in their seats: Hear No Evil, See No
Evil, and Just Plain Evil. The
closer it gets to real campaign season, the more stuff like this is
going to be noticed by the populace at large, which right now doesn’t
care a whit. In order to
throw some mud at John Kerry in an attempt to deflect people’s
attention, the Bush Political Machine has claimed that all of Kerry’s
War Medals are not 100% authentic, that perhaps he wasn’t wounded bad
enough to deserve three Purple
Hearts. This takes a lot of
gall coming from a group of cheaters who never served and now are
running a war that may ruin the country irreparably.
Oh,
it’s so good to be back…back to paying attention every day once
again…pondering the big picture. And wondering, while returning a rental car at
the Honolulu Airport, where, like any airport, gas prices are
notoriously high: Why does gas cost more in L A on any random street
corner than at the airport in Honolulu? Just
curious.
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