Don't Blow up The Hog Lagoon if you're Standing on the Shore!

Any day now I expect the white whale to break the surface and hear the cry of “Thar she blows!” No, I’m not talking about super porker Sharon or Rove but the archetypal slug that birthed them both; the cosmic spider in the black hole. The floating corpse of the essential Heart of Darkness itself; the original colon birth canal of the shit they hid behind the coats in the closet and if it is white it's from living where the sun don't shine. All kindsa early American Drunk Boy Day fireworks are starting to go off. Bomb Iran Day is rising in the windshield.

Israeli Foreign Minister Silvan Shalom has decided the Iranian elections were ‘non-democratic’ and we need to invade right away. No, we won’t be stopping in Uzbekistan first unless it is to drop off a few more satchels-full of money. And of course former hostages are now identifying the new Iranian premier (or whatever they call these guys) as… one of the hostage takers from ’79. Of course if you look closely at the two photos it sure seems like somebody else but… Hey wait a minute; I forgot to say, “So what?” So what if it is? Didn’t Iran have a right to do this? They were having a revolution weren’t they? So doesn’t this make that guy sort of like George Washington Mahmoud Ahmadinejad? But… but… but…

Pig Boy Rove is looking good for the Plame outing. All along we thought it might be Scooter Libby in Mr. Secret Location’s office. Does it matter? Oh yes it matters. Add this in with The Downing Street Memo that Refused to Die and all the a-sordid rest and why, I do believe that is an impeachment proceeding straight ahead. Live like scum, die like scum.

And the news in Iraq and Afghanistan gets worse by the day. What’s a false, unelected junta to do? That’s right, it's time to dust off those zombies in the closet and blow some shit up. “Andrew, would you get me The Tavistock Institute and MKUltra on a conference call? Thanks. Oh, and ask Jeff to come in and sit on my lap while I make the call.” Cut to Dick Cheney taking the phone from bushligula while saying, “I’ll handle this George.”

Personally I’d like Peggy Noonan to do the low-Brit-accented golf announcers voice-over at the administrations funeral. However, people, let’s keep in mind that these low-to-the-ground-blood-sucking-shit-weasels expended a lot of effort and money on stealing the country. The kind of pustulence that will rise to the surface after they get the boot will make a North Carolina hog lagoon look like a giant Christmas pudding. So, let’s not expect them to “go gentle into that dark” bottomless, flaming pit.

They are going to have to go all out now and… a whole lot of people are watching. One 9/11 is manageable, even if, daily, it is becoming more apparent what happened; but two 9/11’s? Hmmm. But what can they do? I can see that thin sheen of organic Crisco starting to bead on Rove’s forehead. Fellow Animal Farm alumni Cheney’s bags are already packed and on the bed; time to take that board seat at Carlyle.

Oh the finger pointing… oh the sleazy, hand-wringing, mea culpas (NOT!)- “I didin know! I didin know!” The sad, tawdry spectacle to come as tired men and women in ashamed clothing try desperately to put some shine of justification on all those Polaroids of them and the live boys and dead girls. This is, of course, much, much worse than Iran-Contra. In the interest of the nation some dignity and honor must be extracted but; how the Hell can you sweep ‘all’ those bodies under the rug? The rug is going to look like a toupee on a planet-sized Mr. Potato-Head. It’s going to look bad. Going to…?

Sooner or later the 6000 plus dead who bought it in German hospital beds is going to slither on to the front page

And of course the coming Supreme Court nominating process is going to expose certain obvious realities about this bunch of murderous thugs that, for some reason, weren’t evident until now. There really is, “nowhere to run and nowhere to hide.”

So really… what’s going to happen? Just about anything, people. My advice is to get yourself a place in the nosebleed seats as far away from the fans as possible. We’re talking unpredictable geysers and El Nino-like septic weather. You won’t be able to see the Action-camera feeds because of all the exploded shit on the lenses. It will be like that time they blew up the dead whale on the Oregon beach. Whales again? Hmmm.

People, we are in the eye of the hurricane. It’s about to blow. Buildings, trees, presidential limousines and White House ID cards are about to funnel up in a huge sucking dervish of angry wind. We’re going to see the faces of this administration blow by like Warner Brothers cartoon characters. It will be impressive.

The façade is cracking. Hallelujah! Yes, there is collateral damage to come but at least the tide is turning and once the Earth cracks open and vomits, that will be a tsunami coming in to cleanse the palate. I hope you will all stand and applaud with me as these miscreants are paraded across the world’s largest Reality TV screen; as they all get voted off the island at once.

Why is it happening? Well, the boys in the back have determined that the garbage scow; G.W. Bush like the U.S.S. Dirty Rice has become a liability. So they are going to scuttle the barge and re-load on another vessel. What this means is that the manner of presentation will change but that when the tables are turned the same faceless representatives will still be standing there behind the new Mad Hatters.

Well, I’m always hopeful. I believe in everything the 60’s promised and I won’t ever stop. So maybe God will shoehorn a human being in between the knaves like a joker in the deck. Stranger things have happened. Then I see that picture of Ronald- what an incredible treacherous sleaze- McClinton (you know he’s got to know what’s going on) riding around in a golf cart with H.W. Bush at Kenne (Lay) bunkeport and I think about that ‘absurd’ story of the two of them hunting humans with rifles at Bohemian Grove a few years back and I think about BCCI and Bush’s falling out with Noriega’s entrepreneurial efforts and all that new poppy paste from Afghanistan and uh… uh…

But at least the good ship Bushjunta is about to take one at the waterline and that’s good news. It’s going to be a slow process but this pack of shithouse rats is going down and as it does some of the nastiest business in many a year is going to float to the top and bob like Republican interns looking for a Petri dish.

I don’t know how it will all go down, but I suggest you keep your eyes open. Every moment following this is going to be revealing; party at my house after. Word.

Visible and The Critical List: ♫ Party, Party ♫
'Party, Party' is track no. 4 of 12 on Visible and The Critical List's 1987 album
'Not Politically Correct'