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Helping You Get the Most Out of Your Misery
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HAIRSHIRT Helping You Get the Most Out of Your Misery |
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Monday, November 15, 2004So Long to the Sane One
Goodbye, Colin.
Goodbye to the one sane person in an administration that puts the ass in assholes. Goodbye to the guy who always seemed to be standing off to the side cringing as the worst of the shit was happening. Goodbye to the voice of reason in a chorus of ululating zealots. Goodbye to the only kid on his side of the seesaw. I'm betting you'll see the speed lines when Powell actually leaves his office. The sinking feeling he had when it hit home the kind of people he was working with had to have been of Titanic-post-iceberg proportions. It must have been something akin to accepting a job at an animal shelter because you love puppies and then finding out you're the one in charge of euthanasia. This is a guy who had clout. The American people loved him. He had to hold a press conference to tell the world that he wasn't going to run for president. I didn't run for president either and absolutely nobody gave a shit. But Powell had people begging him to do it. When Team Bush announced that he'd accepted Secretary of State, you could almost hear a collective sigh of relief around the country, people thinking, "Well thank God for that. At least we know Bush can't fuck up that badly when Colin Powell is in charge of foreign policy." The problem, of course, was that Powell was in charge of precisely squat. Instead, he was sent all over the world to apologize for the dipshits who were steering the ship. He was, on more than one occasion, forced to revise his statements when he'd accidentally said something intelligent that contradicted Bush Doctrine, or "The Holy Word" as it was called in the West Wing. In clashes with Donald Rumsfeld, Powell always got the fuzzy end of the lollipop, largely because the Defense Department is the one that has all the guns. Having huge diplomacy just isn't as impressive. And so Powell was force-fed a steady diet of shit sandwiches for which he had to say thank you, the biggest of which he ate in front of the U.N. and the entire world, the day he stood there and made a phony case for war against Iraq. This war, you have to believe, was waged in a way that probably had Powell banging his head on his desk late into the evening. You have to figure that, somewhere in his home, Powell has a punching bag with Cheney's picture on it. I know the last time I hated my co-workers so much, I hid an egg in the break room my last day of work so the stench would eventually drive them all insaner. And now, the man who had so much potential, who had such a future in American politics, is the one ostracized by the popular kids. It's like the football team had him write all of their term papers and then outed him at the homecoming dance. Whatever simile you use, the man has to be bitter with a capital Fuck You. I hope he didn't sign a confidentiality agreement or anything, 'cause I'd love to read his tell-all book. He's a straight-shooter, though, so he'll probably stay mum on the details for a couple decades. What a pity. So here's to you, Colin Powell. Bet your bottom dollar the job will now go to someone a whole lot dumber.
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