Wednesday, March 14, 2007

Learning The Difference Between Your "Inside" Voice And Your "Outside" Voice, Dept.

Welp, it looks like that Wacky Ol' Jarhead, Peter Pace, had himself a bit of a rethink on that whole "homosexuals are Satan's advance team" thang and he clarified, after weathering a mild shitstorm, that, "In expressing my support for the current policy (of "don't ask, don't tell), I also offered some personal opinions about moral conduct. I should have focused more on my support of the policy and less on my personal moral views."


But for all my razzing of this lovable lunk, your sobsister recognizes that he is an intelligent, educated, politically-savvy man. Annapolis grad, MBA from George Washington University, participation in professional-level programs at Harvard and Georgetown. Pace has worked his way up the ladder in the field and behind a desk. He's logged many hours in Washington. He is not a stupid or naive man by any stretch.

So, riddle me this, Bat-burger: how does an intelligent, educated, politically-savvy man make such a cack-handed move as to say something so obviously inflammatory not to the Bob Jones University newsletter but to the editorial board of the Chicago Trib?

The answer (insert Gorshin-esque cackles and hoots here): when it's not a cack-handed move at all!

Not to be too conspiracy-minded but I think it is entirely within the realm of reason to imagine the Dark Lord of the White House asking Petey-boy to take one for the team by going out, pinching a turd in the punch bowl, then getting spanked by the LibMedia. But, as we all know from courtroom dramas, what's been said still floats in the air, even after the judge orders that the jury disregard such an inappropriate statement. And so, another winky-dink is flashed to the Embattled Right from their Commander-in-Chief: hey, we think them homos is just as disgustin' as y'all do, so keep the faith, mah brothers an' sisters.

This shit happens all the fucking time. And there is rarely a downside for the transgressor. Will Petey-boy lose his job? No. Will any disciplinary action be taken? Heck no. Will he have scored major points for himself and the administration with the macho-macho men in uniform and the miching-malicho men of the cloth? Mais oui.

God but I love the smell of integrity in the morning!

Speaking of professional and intellectual integrity, Albertito Gonzalez looked to be standing about four-foot-two in the NYTimes front-page snap of him. All contrite'n'shit in front of Mother Superior, "Honest, Sister, I din't mean to dip Betty's pigtails in my inkwell, honest!". But that supercilious sack of shit whom we have the honor to call the Attorney General played a classic fuck-you card during his press conference on the latest shitstew to exit the Bush Kitchen: the Passive Impersonal.

"I acknowledge that mistakes were made here."

Well...okay, then. He acknowledges something. That's good. Mistakes were clearly made. So, yeah, in that sense he's correct. I...I guess that's all we really need think about this. Miss Jones, file this whole thing under "kerfuffle".

Ha ha. All joking aside, I hope they nail this little weasel's ass to the Justice Department cafeteria wall. Maybe he can recite the day's specials to the employees, "Ah, yes, well, salisbury steaks were made here. And cream of mushroom soup was prepared. And Jell-O fruit cups were placed in the cold section of the desserts island."

Me, I'm going to redouble my use of the Passive Impersonal in honor of Li'l Prince Albertito-in-a-Can.

"Yes, officer, I acknowledge that cars were parked in a No-Parking zone; can I go now or what?"

THIS JUST IN!! The poor, retarded man who serves as Chief Executive of the United States noted at a news conference in Mexico where this week he is pretending to treat that country's president as anything other than a contractor for short, brown gardeners, that "Mistakes were made"...uh-huh, uh-huh, what else?..."and I'm frankly not happy about them." WHOA!!! The poor, retarded man is kicking this fucking thing up so many notches that Emeril Lagasse couldn't see it if he were perched atop the Hubble Space Telescope.

And he ain't just plain vanilla "unhappy", kits'n'kittens! He's "frankly unhappy". God damn! Well, I hope Albertito has time to bid adieu to his loved ones 'cause he's about to wear some presidential bootmarks in the general vicinity of his derriere...

Ha ha! Heavyhanded sarcasm aside, Li'l Al ain't going nowhere. If you work for the poor, retarded man, the rice bowl isn't just iron, it's bullet-proof besides.

I'm proud to be an American where at least I know I'm free...

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