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Cheap talk -- King Crimson
Jeffrey Goldberg has the low-down on the delusional ramblings which continue to emanate -- almost as if for show -- from the Grand Vizier's musty little office halfway up Bush's cloaca. Most interesting is his "if your aunt had balls she'd be your uncle" perspective on the most recent electoral math.
So what? The gap was even smaller in Virginia, where Jim Webb squeaked past Felix Macacawitz, Jr. only in the final hours of the count, and only by some 2,500 votes. Hell, if a couple hundred old farts in Palm Beach had paid attention to those tricksy butterfly ballots, we'd have seen the last of these scumbags back in 2000. If, if, if. If my cock was only a foot longer, I'd have made a fortune in porn.
Rove's selective ratiocinations can't obscure the fact that Jim Webb and Jon Tester, no matter how close the margins, came in and beat two incumbent senators -- one with enough of a conservatard pedigree to have been frequently touted as potential POTUS bait. That's a pretty tall smackdown, and he knows it.
More whistling past the graveyard. The timing of the disclosure of the Foley scandal was certainly propitious, but it barely merits mentioning how cheap and disingenuous it is to see Rove lamely try to distance himself from the slimy likes of Abramoff. The K Street tentacles were everywhere, and Rove and his lackeys helped facilitate that, because they view the responsibilities of government as "keeping the trough full". That's not just what people such as Rove and Abramoff do, it's what they're there for, to facilitate the systems where such arrangements can thrive. It's why they got the big bucks. There's no other reason to have a chin-laden fuckhead like Rove around, except he knows which knotholes to screw to hit the most paydirt.
And then we bounce from one set of chins to another.
The article goes on at some length to cast Gingrich as some sort of elder statesman for the conservatard movement. And considering their sheer lack of intellectual heft, he probably qualifies as such. He can actually think and speak extemporaneously, which already puts him leagues ahead of his nominal party leader. Whether or not the ideas make sense or are practical or even moral is incidental -- the point is that they resonate with the sort of people who need reactionary nonsense to harmonize just so with their preconceived notions.
Even deeper into the pit, Goldberg talks with Tom DeLay who, apparently in a futile effort to avoid eternity shoveling shit in hell, has found him some Jesus (who, it should be said, probably did not want to be found this particular time). It's nauseating and cringe-inducing as only DeLay can be, and is only partially redeemed afterward by the obligatory "can the party find its way out of its own ass?" coda, helmed by Beelzebub's hat-rack, Richard Viguerie:
The thing about shoveling shit, whether in hell or in Washington, is that the trick is understanding that it doesn't disappear, it just goes somewhere else. The art is in scooting it around sufficiently so that you look like you've actually done something.