(I’m writing this bit after having finished the rest of the post. This is a little warning before you continue reading. What started as a bit of sarcastic fun about a news item quickly blossomed into my venting over the weeks activities in Washington – and things beyond. I actually get something out of these moments of unedited stream-of-consciousness externalization, but I’m not sure any of my small band of readers do. Hence, be warned! This is one of those posts, and I had no idea how depressed I was when I started writing this thing.)
It turns out that our shadow overlord, His Serene Darkness Dick Cheney has a heart. At least that is the cover story for his surgery. The official story is that he had to have the batteries in his pacemaker replaced.
My guess is that either the cloned body that was created for him by Kang and Kodos has started to deteriorate and had to be replaced or that it was time for him to complete his centennial sacrifice of one thousand babies to Nyarlathotep so he can maintain his immortality and his membership in the Illuminati.
Just as seriously though, last weekend Dubya had to cede power to Darth Cheney for the period of his two-hour rectal probe. Now under the OLD Constitution, the VP didn’t have to do that if he was going into surgery. However, today we live under the Bush Constitution – the one where he, his advisers, and the spin master he chose as Attorney General (I never would have believed I could miss john Ashcroft) are all above the law and the VP is also a power unto himself. Do you suppose Cheney had to cede his authority as Chancellor of the Undisclosed Fourth Branch of Government during his unholy rites, er, I mean “surgery”? If so, who do you suppose took over for him? I’m sure it wasn’t Nancy Pelosi…
It would be easier for all of us if Bush and Gonzalez would go ahead and release the text of the new Constitution instead of just letting us know what it is bit-by-bit. I guess we don’t need to know the details, and they are probably covered by executive privilege in any case.
Here comes a rant – hold on!
I am so fucking tired of that whole gang of mealy-mouthed, smiley, logic-chopping, back-stabbing, spin-doctoring traitors that I could simply weep. I’d jump on board the “let’s impeach Bush” bandwagon if I thought anybody in Congress had any nerve at all, but it is clear they do not. George Bush could order the Secret Service to arrest every one of his political opponents and so long as he claimed they were linked to the Big Islamic Bogeyman the only response would be some complaints (and applause from Fox News.)
I am confident, however.
I’m confident in the ability of the Democratic Party to so rip itself apart in the fight over Clinton vs. Obama that they will hand the election to the Republicans.
I’m confident that whoever the Republicans put into the White House will curse Bush publicly while continuing to extend the powers of the executive as much as possible.
I’m confident that the future in Washington is going to include a legislative branch that has forgotten how to do anything but posture when not rubber-stamping and a judiciary that is so opposed to “activism” that it might as well be an arm of the executive.
I’m confident that Americans will complain and will disapprove in opinion polls, but as long as they can convince themselves that one day they’ll win the lottery they are going to just tune out the problems and tune in to the next season of American Idol.
I’m confident that those who do care are going to be so consumed in regarding the mote in their neighbor’s eye that they will regardest not the beam in their own.
And every minute, one more kid decides it is too hard to care, so she stops; one more person stops thinking; one more kid gets killed in a pointless war; one more family slips out of the middle class; one more American shoots another American and no one takes the guns away; and one more person is made to feel worthless by a culture that values nothing except wealth.
Meanwhile, the ice caps are melting, and we are having rock concerts.
To quote lyrics – as best I can remember – from an R.E.M. song (“Ignoreland”):
I know that this is vitriol
No solutions, spleen-venting
But I feel better, having screamed
Please forgive me… or… never mind.