Powell Trip

Colin Powell's word ceased to mean much to me after that dark day where he trudged into the UN, covering up Guernica in the process for some weird reason, and jerked the world's chain over the imminent danger of WMD. He's a lifelong company man, whether covering up Charlie hamlets being machine-gunned into makeshift ditches, or rushing off to mayhem in the desert.

And yet, his endorsement adds clarity and meaning and momentum to the realities of the campaign. It makes the Republicans nervous as hell; the more frantically they spin and sour-grapes this thing, the more clear it is that they would have loooved, like fuckin' lurved to have Powell's okey-doke. It would have huge for them, just for all the thinly-veiled racial reasons they're trying to dance around.

Most importantly, it means something to the media weasels, probably them most of all. As far as voters, Powell might move some undecideds, but you can't count on anything there because those people are by definition narcissistic morons. But the media loves them some Colin, and this automatically seizes the penultimate news cycle, mere hours after Sarah flailin' on some overhyped late-night comedy show.

It's going to be fun to watch the conservabots spin this one without intimating any racial connotations, their deepest fears of Flavor Flav being made Seckatary of What Time It Is welling in their puny hearts. If Condi Rice makes a move, their heads might explode.