DIGGING DEEPER , By Ivan G. Goldman
Secret White House functionaries slipped mysterious but potent Mickeys into the bloodstreams of journalists at Prince George’s press conference this morning.
The substance, whose precise chemical construction remains a mystery, rendered them incapable of asking questions beyond the first level of Hindu consciousness. Snails could have achieved equivalent success. Consequently, the Blunderer-in-Chief was once again allowed to ramble on about “victory” in Iraq and even his imaginary crusade for green energy. It's not terribly uplifting when the President of your country parades his psychoses around like this, but it's downright depressing when journalists on site either pretend they're listening to someone with all his marbles or are too dumb to know the difference.
There was not one question about the billions of dollars in contracts awarded to pals of him and Shotgun Cheney for Iraq buildings, dams, bridges, energy systems, and programs that don’t exist. The money, of course, does exist. It’s in the hands of the contractors, all of it borrowed by the government and to be paid off over time by future generations.
As the Bush-O-Ramus babbled simplicities about how yes, Iraq’s tougher than he anticipated, but “we” will achieve success in assisting Iraqis to build a flourishing democracy, he was never asked about the fact that the most powerful segment within this government coalition our troops are dying to defend is controlled by Mullah Muqtada al-Sadr, whose 60,000 militiamen have been ambushing our troops for nearly four years. Among those they’ve killed was Cindy Sheehan’s son Casey.
At some point, uable to bear more of this, I switched off NPR and listened to Puccini. Man, did that feel better! But I did read the news accounts, and it turns out I didn't miss a thing except actually hearing The Decider's uniquely mangled pronunciations. The phony bastard’s Justice Department as he spoke was fighting in court to avoid enforcing any provisions against global warming because, according to these lawyers we’re paying over at Justice, the EPA doesn’t have the power to force industry to do such things. Also precisely at that moment the Bush regime was listening in our phone calls, monitoring our emails, and torturing suspects who aren’t allowed to see attorneys or file writs of habeas corpus. From whence it finds these powers no one seems to know, but evidently it would be impolite and impolitic to ask the tyrannical goofus at the top.
The "questioners" this morning – people supposed to be looking out for the interests of the citizens -- were probably slipped the Mickeys sometime after they placed their shoes, cell phones, keys, and minds on the conveyer belt.
The current issue of Columbia Journalism Review is a brilliantly assembled oral history of the Iraq war in the words of journalists over there. These people, many of whom came very close to death in pursuit of their mission, explained the disconnect between what we're told by the government and what they were seeing. But they never explained the disconnect between what they saw and what many of them reported. Somehow the administration found the key to regulating their behavior. Slipping them a Mickey is as good an explanation as any.
The substance, whose precise chemical construction remains a mystery, rendered them incapable of asking questions beyond the first level of Hindu consciousness. Snails could have achieved equivalent success. Consequently, the Blunderer-in-Chief was once again allowed to ramble on about “victory” in Iraq and even his imaginary crusade for green energy. It's not terribly uplifting when the President of your country parades his psychoses around like this, but it's downright depressing when journalists on site either pretend they're listening to someone with all his marbles or are too dumb to know the difference.
There was not one question about the billions of dollars in contracts awarded to pals of him and Shotgun Cheney for Iraq buildings, dams, bridges, energy systems, and programs that don’t exist. The money, of course, does exist. It’s in the hands of the contractors, all of it borrowed by the government and to be paid off over time by future generations.
As the Bush-O-Ramus babbled simplicities about how yes, Iraq’s tougher than he anticipated, but “we” will achieve success in assisting Iraqis to build a flourishing democracy, he was never asked about the fact that the most powerful segment within this government coalition our troops are dying to defend is controlled by Mullah Muqtada al-Sadr, whose 60,000 militiamen have been ambushing our troops for nearly four years. Among those they’ve killed was Cindy Sheehan’s son Casey.
At some point, uable to bear more of this, I switched off NPR and listened to Puccini. Man, did that feel better! But I did read the news accounts, and it turns out I didn't miss a thing except actually hearing The Decider's uniquely mangled pronunciations. The phony bastard’s Justice Department as he spoke was fighting in court to avoid enforcing any provisions against global warming because, according to these lawyers we’re paying over at Justice, the EPA doesn’t have the power to force industry to do such things. Also precisely at that moment the Bush regime was listening in our phone calls, monitoring our emails, and torturing suspects who aren’t allowed to see attorneys or file writs of habeas corpus. From whence it finds these powers no one seems to know, but evidently it would be impolite and impolitic to ask the tyrannical goofus at the top.
The "questioners" this morning – people supposed to be looking out for the interests of the citizens -- were probably slipped the Mickeys sometime after they placed their shoes, cell phones, keys, and minds on the conveyer belt.
The current issue of Columbia Journalism Review is a brilliantly assembled oral history of the Iraq war in the words of journalists over there. These people, many of whom came very close to death in pursuit of their mission, explained the disconnect between what we're told by the government and what they were seeing. But they never explained the disconnect between what they saw and what many of them reported. Somehow the administration found the key to regulating their behavior. Slipping them a Mickey is as good an explanation as any.
