7th June 22:37
Watching BushCo Crumble (history numbers master women liberal)
Watching BushCo Crumble
Ratings slipping, economy tanking, lies
spiraling, credibility shot. Try not to cheer
By Mark Morford, SF Gate Columnist
Friday, July 25, 2003
This is what happens when it's all a house
This is what happens when you build your
entire presidency on an intricate network
of aww-shucks glibness and bad hair and
cronyism and corporate fellatio and
warmongering and sham enemies and
economy-gutting policies and endless
blank-eyed smirks that tell the world,
every single day, whelp, sure 'nuff, the
U.S. is full of it.
Shrub's ratings have dropped below 50
percent for the first (and probably not the
last) time since they surged hugely right
after 9/11 and he was hoisted in front of a
wary America and puffed out his chest and
pretended like he could find Afghanistan on
a map and promised he would bomb every damn
country on the planet that didn't have a
McDonald's or an Exxon or a secret U.S.
Shrub's numbers are down. The nation is
catching on. The armor of money and power
is cracking. The smirk is waning. ****'s
defibrillator is running on fumes.
And Karl Rove, Shrub's master strategist,
is scrambling, rushing down hallways,
sweating hard, mapping out lib-killer
tactics and frantically redirecting blame
(CIA! FBI! The NSA!) as nine Demo
candidates have a field day knocking all of
Shrub's shortcomings out of the ideological
Maybe it's the regular slew of lies. You
know the ones: "proof" of uranium
purchases, "proof" of Iraqi nuke
facilities, "proof" of WMDs, poison gas,
plus two quick and "painless" wars, a
robust economy, women's rights, *** rights,
America proud and strong and respected the
world over, a nice shiny oil-****ing SUV
for every flag-waving misguided Fox
News-drugged American. Ha.
Funny how the BS can wear you down. Funny
how it can make you feel like someone's
been piling huge rocks on our collective
chest for the past three years and stomping
on them with ugly polished right-wing
loafers until we can hardly breathe.
And all you have to do is ask any
schoolteacher or grandparent or health-care
worker or conscious sensual attuned soulful
organism anywhere, and the answer is
unavoidable: The nation is gasping for air.
Cities are desperate, basic services are
being slashed, schools are broke, the
environment's molested, the GOP has
promised a ridiculous array of cuts and
dedicated billions they can't possibly
deliver in light of inane tax cuts and the
biggest deficit in U.S. history. Hey, how's
your portfolio doing?
Maybe the slip, the change in national
timbre, is due to all the recently
uncovered and aforementioned misfirings of
the GOP machine, that frighteningly rich
and seemingly omnipotent team of
multibillionaire CEO Bushites who bought
the presidency in the first place and who
have steered the conservative agenda so
brilliantly, so ruthlessly to this point.
Until recently, they've managed to stay
viciously on message, trashed every liberal
cause, demonized every social program,
overhyped every fear, desiccated the poor
and the elderly and ***s and women and
called it all Christian largesse,
compassionate conservatism, which of course
we all now know means, whoops sorry about
all the unemployment and the ****d
environment and the dead Iraqi children.
Or maybe it's all those U.S. soldiers, more
dying every single day, outright brutal
guerrilla warfare with no end in sight,
tens of thousands of American soldiers
stuck in miserable and war-torn Iraq for
years to come, proving that BushCo's policy
of perpetual unilateral war in the name of
a sovereignty we no longer have is just
plain dangerous, if not downright immoral.
Iran? North Korea? Liberia? Saudi Arabia?
Wanna make your own list?
Maybe it's that feeling that we've reached
saturation, that the nation can't really
absorb any more misinformation and
misdirection and snide switcheroos, Osama
to Saddam, nukes to uranium, WMD to WMD
intent, serious threat to "liberation,"
brutish recession to "temporary downturn."
Maybe we've just had enough. Enough of the
macho all-American gun-totin' faux-cowboy
ethos that says, if we just beat [insert
nation/minority/progressive viewpoint here]
up enough, they'll get the message and get
in line and start complying with U.S.
demands and we can expand our empire and
crush all comers and their wimpy
It is not yet time for delicious plates of
schadenfreude. It is not yet time to relish
Junior's slide into abject failure and
scathing ratings and one-term histrionics
-- you know, just like those suffered by
his dear old dad. We are still too fragile,
the feelings too raw, the wounds too recent
from the current administration's mugging
of the country.
But we are healing fast. We are coming back
to life. We are opening our blackened eyes,
realizing we have been massively and
systematically and enthusiastically and
intentionally duped by some very rich, very
impotent white males three years running
and it's damn near time for a domestic
regime change and let's just float a
Dean/Kerry (Kerry/Dean?) presidential
ticket out there to the cosmic Void, see
how it plays, shall we?
Because after all, that whimpering house of
cards, it can't survive much longer.