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Bushes, Shrubs, and Other Dangerous Tinder So, . . . . I'm freshly
arrived at work the other evening with a nice, positive, philosophical
and industrious attitude about being there. For me, achieving this sort
of mindset is no small feat and it requires a good deal of mental effort
and forced self-discipline. Naturally, I was feeling just a little bit
proud of myself for getting there. Then I spied the disturbing image of
a pointing and waving Shrub emanating from the boobtube over the bar.
Poof!
Positive attitude instantly out the window! I'm out of earshot,
but I can see two or three patrons on the edge of their barstools in the
largely empty lounge, paying rapt attention to Shrub's silently moving
lips. With a dreadful foreboding, I'm anxiously drawn closer to the TV
screen and the cocksure, posturing marionette-in-chief, lecturing the
cameras with his by now too familiar and particularly annoying,
trade-mark brand of supremely vacuous insouciance. With the haunting spectre
of Shrub's detestable father, His Majesty George I, lurking horribly
amidst old memories I prefer not to recall, I reluctantly listen to
Shrub's increasingly monotonous and tiresome inflammatory accusations
and martial exhortations. Though entirely substantially unchanged since
his artificial installation, Shrub's raving rhetoric now exhibits an
alarmingly more strident tone than previously––if that's
possible. I am partially relieved not to hear those
despicable words which Bush the Elder so sanctimoniously intoned over
the small screen, one cold dark night some twelve years ago: "Cruise
missiles are now in the air on their way to Though painful to
recollect, I will never forget the psyche searing image of that venal
charlatan gleefully announcing to the world his unfolding plan of death
and destruction already underway. It was a watershed for me, of sorts,
disturbing to the extreme. Though by then I was fully aware of the
fraudulent and mendacious nature of our government, and governments
in general, I had not yet truly perceived, deep down to the core of
my soul, the enormous totality of political man's utter baseness towards
his fellow man (something
I came to understand much later). I remember my utter
disbelief and abhorrence when Bush I's sternly condescending televised
image metamorphosized before my very eyes into a horribly chilling and
real personification of old Satan himself. Shifty malevolent eyes
and thin, cruel lips heralded with obvious satisfaction the inexorably
irreversible and grim course of war he now pursued in the name of all
Americans––never mind the consent of the governed. I
honestly perceived a pair of nascent horn nubs sprouting from his
unattractively pasty forehead, and bright crimson blood literally
dripping from his wickedly depraved lips (No, I was not
tripping, though this did easily eclipse any bum trips I
might have ever experienced). I say I was partially
relieved to hear Shrub uttering no actual war announcement because I'm
confident (and afraid) that this risible puppet and his sponsors fully
intend to have their military adventure, be it tomorrow, next week, or a
month from now. Don't any of these idiots read history books? Alas,
peaceniks and dissidents, batten down the hatches, brothers. The die is
already cast. For what it's worth,
then, here is my simplified analysis: It's strictly business.
Despite the continuing financial reassurances incessantly broadcast by
smug MSNBCFOXCNN . . . XYZ.com mouthpieces (O.K., O.K., I'll admit
I'm in love with the exquisite and mesmerizing Maria Bartiromo), the
economy of the And why not? The nearly
total debasement of the once sound, world wide monetary standard, the
dollar, is no longer even a fact that officials bother to dismiss.
Recent public statements by Treasury officials to the effect that, "we
will print as many dollars as the situation requires" belie any
sort of honorable or good-will intention by entrusted government
functionaries to preserve whatever little remaining sanctity our
national currency may possess. The Euro is, at least, partially
tied to the price of man's historically preferred wealth storing
commodity, gold. Currently, the dollar is backed by "the good faith
and credit of the The current "Shock
and Awe" battle strategy (this ain't nothing new, brother)
in place for the traditionally volatile Sad, yes, but I think
that is how it will play out. Even more tragic, I
believe, will be the environmental costs, and the inevitable righteous
Islamic retaliation. The holocaust of the world's most horribly
widespread and gargantuan blazing oil fires, and the unforgettable
Manhattan morning cataclysm (not to even mention the ascendancy of
Billy Jeff Clinton), are the indelible gifts of Bush I's crowning
imperial adventures. The consequences of Shrub's new terror war could
conceivably be far more serious. And the worst part is,
this awful shit will probably hit the fan, . . . no matter who
wins the war. Say a prayer with me now. "God Help us!" Lowell Potter is a past-his-prime curmudgeon, supporting his good life of arts and leisure by honest, private sector toil, a patriotic American who no longer consents to a criminal government. |