Pause for a moment of jubilation.
First of all, a quick welcome to my new tumor/vestigial head icon, which ought to tip people off about what they're about to read. =)
So, I don't know how many of you have been following Turdgate (as the Rude Pundit has so aptly dubbed it), also known as the Scandalous Case of Karl Rove's Treasonous Leak, but I've been following it for quite some time, even though for a long time there's been nothing but a lot of lefty blog posts saying, "hello, by the way, who the hell outed Valerie Plame as CIA??? did we forget about this???"
(I shall preface with a non sequitur, that is, does anyone else think that John Kerry (or hell Ralph Nader or HELL hell Ross fuckin' "Demented Troll" Perot!) could have won the presidential race in a landslide simply by saying over and over, "Dudes, are you *seriously* thinking of voting for a man who calls his best friend and colleague 'TURD BLOSSOM'? I mean SERIOUSLY?")
Well, with all what's come out about how Karl Rove leaked classified information to reporters in order to get back at a political rival who dared to disagree with the Preznit, and lied-but-didn't-lie-if-you-could-please-define-the-word-"is"-for-me-sir about it, and how the Preznit got all puffed up a couple of years ago about how he was gonna get medieval on someone's ass as soon as he found out who the leak in his administration was and now he's all, well, I had my fingers crossed behind my back and the mainstream media who suddenly grew a cunt this past week was all, nuh-uh, no crosses count, stupidhead! and meanwhile Scottie McClellan is squirming like a crack-addled hooker taking it up the ass from the entire press corp while sounding more rote and mechanical in his lyrical variations on "no comment" than Katie Holmes' empty-eyed recitations of "How do I love thee, Tom, let Scientology count the ways" and in the Senate all the Republicans are scrambling to flee from Rove's side like he just dropped his leprous cock on the floor, well, with all that...this has been a GREAT week!
I do so love to watch the arrogant, power-mad, bigoted, and just plain evil go down in flames.
Now, I am so greatly enjoying this spectacle, that it almost makes me want to go do the Naked Happy Dance out in the street. I considered it-- although, as we all know, the Naked Happy Dance is specially reserved for the day that the Preznit is discovered boning Condi doggy-style on the Great Seal in the Oval Office, while wearing nothing but a tricorn hat and a cravat and braying, "Who's your Founding Father, bitch?" as he slaps her ass with the Constitution (the fake one they let him draw on in crayon when Dick and Karl take him to big people meetings, when he gets bored with "My Pet Goat" and the "Axis of Evil" Legos set and starts to fuss).
Incidentally I rather wish I had the skill to animate a graphic of the Naked Happy Dance, which is rather fun and amusing even performed fully clothed and tends to crack Random up at least. It shares some artistic hallmarks and inspiration with the Alias Theme Song Dance, although there is a crucial stylistic difference in that the Alias dance owes something to the Sprockets and the Naked Happy Dance draws more on the classical traditions of "Wildcats". And if that reference doesn't date me, then nobody will. ;-)
Oh, and speaking of Alias, here's a great little shout-out to fans from the Rude Pundit post linked above:
The Alias Addendum:
Some on the right are now claiming that Wilson's wife, Valerie Plame, was not an undercover agent nor an "operative," as Bob Novak first called her. That she was a desk jockey analyst. Although can one not be a desk jockey who needs to keep cover because of all the secrets that she knows? Isn't that the idea of a cover identity?
For Alias fans, the ABC show about CIA agents doing all kinds of cool shit against villains and each other, one need only think of wee little Marshall Flinkman, the tech nerd, who rarely ever leaves the office, but is as deeply undercover as any of the agents in the field. Would you want Marshall to be outed? Would you want Marshall to be open to intimidation, violence, or bribes?
Ouch! Talk about your blatant emotional appeal! For all I can say is noooooooo! Not Marshall! No one must hurt Marshall, weird brilliant silly annoying-but-adorable and sweet as pie puppy Marshall! It must not be done!
...where was I? Oh, yes.
The fact of the matter is that Karl Rove is a vindictive, scheming, soulless, power-hungry, shameless bastard of the first order. He's responsible for so much of the ugly political climate we live in today, and he thinks he is above the law and that he can ruin any old damn life he pleases just to score some cheap political payback. He's a first-rate slimeball, and now WE KNOW HE FUCKED UP BIG TIME. Oh yeah, homie thought he could out-playa Satan himself, and the Fresh Prince of Darkness is comin' to make ol' Karl his gimp. Ohhh, sweet sweet justice! Uncover your proud tits, honey, and show us the full measure of your power and divinely poetic irony!
Now, I *would* want the trial over and done with quickly, so we could lock the greasy fuck up as quick as possible before he wriggles worm-like from the grasp of justice, but dragging it out means that we get to see just what a lovely shade of cracklin' golden his skin goes as he gets turned on the spit. Plus, we might get the chance to take some more of his partners in filth down with him-- and dare I dream? Dare I hope for the holy grail of -gates, wherein it is revealed that the Preznit knew all about this leak long ago, and covered it up--? You know, I love the sound of the word "impeachment". It sounds so sexy...calls to mind ripe fuzzy juicy KARMA.
Oh, I know, I know, I'm living in a fool's paradise. In reality the whole administration could be using a supply of dead child hookers from Thailand as bongs and they'd get away with it. Most likely there'll be pardons, or maybe just an honors ceremony for the "hero"? There'll be no repercussions, the chimps in the White House will screech in victory and keep throwing poo at us, and we'll keep inching closer to throwing faggots on the fire and teaching schoolchildren that it's a scientific fact that when you touch yourself Jesus kills a fetus.
But please, for today, let me dream. Let me bask in the glory, and enjoy my Cartman moment, as I whisper tenderly, "Please, Karl, please, let me lick your tears. Oh, how very sweet they taste, those tears you shed. How I love your tears!" Give me one moment in time, when I'm racing with destiny. Then, in that one moment of time, I will feel-- I will feel-- eternity.
(For your reading enjoyment, The Girl Gets Away speculates on possible heroic motives for Karl, and Norbizness gives us a glimpse of what Scott McClellan REALLY wanted to say in that press room.)
So, I don't know how many of you have been following Turdgate (as the Rude Pundit has so aptly dubbed it), also known as the Scandalous Case of Karl Rove's Treasonous Leak, but I've been following it for quite some time, even though for a long time there's been nothing but a lot of lefty blog posts saying, "hello, by the way, who the hell outed Valerie Plame as CIA??? did we forget about this???"
(I shall preface with a non sequitur, that is, does anyone else think that John Kerry (or hell Ralph Nader or HELL hell Ross fuckin' "Demented Troll" Perot!) could have won the presidential race in a landslide simply by saying over and over, "Dudes, are you *seriously* thinking of voting for a man who calls his best friend and colleague 'TURD BLOSSOM'? I mean SERIOUSLY?")
Well, with all what's come out about how Karl Rove leaked classified information to reporters in order to get back at a political rival who dared to disagree with the Preznit, and lied-but-didn't-lie-if-you-could-please-define-the-word-"is"-for-me-sir about it, and how the Preznit got all puffed up a couple of years ago about how he was gonna get medieval on someone's ass as soon as he found out who the leak in his administration was and now he's all, well, I had my fingers crossed behind my back and the mainstream media who suddenly grew a cunt this past week was all, nuh-uh, no crosses count, stupidhead! and meanwhile Scottie McClellan is squirming like a crack-addled hooker taking it up the ass from the entire press corp while sounding more rote and mechanical in his lyrical variations on "no comment" than Katie Holmes' empty-eyed recitations of "How do I love thee, Tom, let Scientology count the ways" and in the Senate all the Republicans are scrambling to flee from Rove's side like he just dropped his leprous cock on the floor, well, with all that...this has been a GREAT week!
I do so love to watch the arrogant, power-mad, bigoted, and just plain evil go down in flames.
Now, I am so greatly enjoying this spectacle, that it almost makes me want to go do the Naked Happy Dance out in the street. I considered it-- although, as we all know, the Naked Happy Dance is specially reserved for the day that the Preznit is discovered boning Condi doggy-style on the Great Seal in the Oval Office, while wearing nothing but a tricorn hat and a cravat and braying, "Who's your Founding Father, bitch?" as he slaps her ass with the Constitution (the fake one they let him draw on in crayon when Dick and Karl take him to big people meetings, when he gets bored with "My Pet Goat" and the "Axis of Evil" Legos set and starts to fuss).
Incidentally I rather wish I had the skill to animate a graphic of the Naked Happy Dance, which is rather fun and amusing even performed fully clothed and tends to crack Random up at least. It shares some artistic hallmarks and inspiration with the Alias Theme Song Dance, although there is a crucial stylistic difference in that the Alias dance owes something to the Sprockets and the Naked Happy Dance draws more on the classical traditions of "Wildcats". And if that reference doesn't date me, then nobody will. ;-)
Oh, and speaking of Alias, here's a great little shout-out to fans from the Rude Pundit post linked above:
The Alias Addendum:
Some on the right are now claiming that Wilson's wife, Valerie Plame, was not an undercover agent nor an "operative," as Bob Novak first called her. That she was a desk jockey analyst. Although can one not be a desk jockey who needs to keep cover because of all the secrets that she knows? Isn't that the idea of a cover identity?
For Alias fans, the ABC show about CIA agents doing all kinds of cool shit against villains and each other, one need only think of wee little Marshall Flinkman, the tech nerd, who rarely ever leaves the office, but is as deeply undercover as any of the agents in the field. Would you want Marshall to be outed? Would you want Marshall to be open to intimidation, violence, or bribes?
Ouch! Talk about your blatant emotional appeal! For all I can say is noooooooo! Not Marshall! No one must hurt Marshall, weird brilliant silly annoying-but-adorable and sweet as pie puppy Marshall! It must not be done!
...where was I? Oh, yes.
The fact of the matter is that Karl Rove is a vindictive, scheming, soulless, power-hungry, shameless bastard of the first order. He's responsible for so much of the ugly political climate we live in today, and he thinks he is above the law and that he can ruin any old damn life he pleases just to score some cheap political payback. He's a first-rate slimeball, and now WE KNOW HE FUCKED UP BIG TIME. Oh yeah, homie thought he could out-playa Satan himself, and the Fresh Prince of Darkness is comin' to make ol' Karl his gimp. Ohhh, sweet sweet justice! Uncover your proud tits, honey, and show us the full measure of your power and divinely poetic irony!
Now, I *would* want the trial over and done with quickly, so we could lock the greasy fuck up as quick as possible before he wriggles worm-like from the grasp of justice, but dragging it out means that we get to see just what a lovely shade of cracklin' golden his skin goes as he gets turned on the spit. Plus, we might get the chance to take some more of his partners in filth down with him-- and dare I dream? Dare I hope for the holy grail of -gates, wherein it is revealed that the Preznit knew all about this leak long ago, and covered it up--? You know, I love the sound of the word "impeachment". It sounds so sexy...calls to mind ripe fuzzy juicy KARMA.
Oh, I know, I know, I'm living in a fool's paradise. In reality the whole administration could be using a supply of dead child hookers from Thailand as bongs and they'd get away with it. Most likely there'll be pardons, or maybe just an honors ceremony for the "hero"? There'll be no repercussions, the chimps in the White House will screech in victory and keep throwing poo at us, and we'll keep inching closer to throwing faggots on the fire and teaching schoolchildren that it's a scientific fact that when you touch yourself Jesus kills a fetus.
But please, for today, let me dream. Let me bask in the glory, and enjoy my Cartman moment, as I whisper tenderly, "Please, Karl, please, let me lick your tears. Oh, how very sweet they taste, those tears you shed. How I love your tears!" Give me one moment in time, when I'm racing with destiny. Then, in that one moment of time, I will feel-- I will feel-- eternity.
(For your reading enjoyment, The Girl Gets Away speculates on possible heroic motives for Karl, and Norbizness gives us a glimpse of what Scott McClellan REALLY wanted to say in that press room.)