So we know President Bush the man. And what President Clinton said is absolutely true — to know the man is to like the man, because he’s comfortable in his own skin. He knows who he is. He doesn’t put on any pretenses. He takes his job seriously, but he doesn’t take himself too seriously. He is a good man.
–-Barack Obama, speaking at the dedication of the George W. Bush Presidential Library, 04.25.13

The dedication of the George W. Bush Presidential Library this week gave the US media a chance to engage in one of its current favorite pastimes: rehabilitating the public images of thoroughly loathsome and reprehensible public figures. They’d hardly had time to catch their breath after canonizing Margaret Thatcher before it was time for their toughest challenge ever — rehabilitating George W. “The Decider” Bush. Yeah, that’s right, it’s Shark Jumping Time.

Y’know the worst thing about this wretched speech, though? He’s paraphrasing Bill Clinton, f’cripesake. Between this and the Thatcher veneration and Chelsea Clinton interviewing the GEICO Gecko, I’d say this pretty much indicates the death of the US media.

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For your further entertainment, here’s a couple of classic op-ed stinkburgers from the Washington Post from this past week. Feel their sliminess wash over you.

“George W. Bush, A Principled President”, Michael Gerson, Op-Ed Scribbler; author, Heroic Conservatism, The Washington Post, 04.25.13

“George W. Bush Is A Victim Of A Rush To Judgement”, Stephen Knott, Professor, U.S. Naval War College, The Washington Post, 04.25.13

Continue reading "Was George W. Bush Really That Bad?" »

Once again, it’s time for the latest headline news. And here, with the headlines, is Barbie Anchorbabe:

Lately, it seems the US media have become entirely infatuated with the term “lockdown”, dropping it at every opportunity when covering breaking news such as school shootings or the recent Boston Marathon bombing, though it was once previously confined strictly to the context of prison riots.

A blogger comrade of mine, Michael Smith, puts it quite nicely in a recent post at Stop Me Before I Vote Again:

“…A whole SMSA* in ‘lockdown’ — America’s favorite word, for the last few years. Oh how we love a lockdown — more even than we used to love a parade. Lock me down, baby. Lock me down!”

Yeah, Smiff, that’s for damn’ sure; the US media sure do love ’em some lockdown.

*Standard Metropolitan Statistical Area, for you Census Bureau geeks out there.

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Continue reading "Lockdown!" »

It was less than 24 hours after the bombing at the Boston Marathon when our Exalted Boy Emperor swung into action, with one of his standard-issue canned statements delivered in his standard-issue pompous, dry, professorial, I-don’t-really-mean-what-I’m-saying tone.

Amidst all the usual platitudes about prayers, courage, resiliency and pulling together, this one little bit of bluster jumped out at me:

…But make no mistake, we will get to the bottom of this. And we will find out who did this; we’ll find out why they did this. Any responsible individuals, any responsible groups will feel the full weight of justice…

…which can only mean one thing: our Exalted Boy Emperor was about to head down to the situation room with a bottle of Chardonnay and a dart board.

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Continue reading "The Full Weight Of Justice" »

Sorry, gang; the YouTube copyright police are jerking me around again on account of the old Pink Floyd tracks I used in this piece. You can download a copy of the mpeg4 with the sound track intact (05:39, 66.3mb) from archive.org. Sic semper tyrannis.

Oh say, can you see
on the bridge named for Key
where the “Aqua Team” marched,
and a bunch were arrested…!

It was bone cold, rainy, sloppy, and miserable only a day before the official beginning of spring — in other words, your typical mid-March morning in DC. It was also a morning full of coordinated disobedience actions across DC marking the first day of Iraq War v2.0. Our group, nicknamed “Aqua Team”, was given the plum job of mobbing aboard a Metro to Rosslyn and taking Key Bridge early during rush hour.

Things turned out quite nicely. All the color-nicknamed groups gathered for their rallies at designated points around DC, not knowing where they were headed until it was actually time to go — a brilliant piece of strategy which greatly reduced the chances of any snitches in the crowd getting the word ahead to the cops — in our case, it was a meetup at Eastern Market, right in my backyard, then onto an Orange Line all the way across town to Rosslyn, where hilarity ensued…

Continue reading "Goodbye, Blue Sky: 03.20.03" »