IraQ with a capital Q
9/14/03
IraQ with a capital Q
Now that we’re sure that pre-invasion reports of WMD’s in Iraq got sexed up real bad, Iraq isn’t looking so sexy. We’re waking up in Baghdad and finding ourselves in bed with a Jihadist in a chador and we’re not sure what to call her or him or it and we’re finding out we’re stuck with “her” though we desperately want to clear out without sharing breakfast or leaving our phone number. She’s mercurial, she’s got an ugly temper, she has violent friends, and she’s not willing to pay her own way.
I’m still trying to understand how our Fearless Leader jumped feetfirst into bed with this skanky termagant in the first place. Maybe he was brooding and slow to get up for his daily jog around the Crawford ranch and Laura said: “A penny for your thoughts, George Junior.”
“I’m the President, Laura. Isn’t it time to drop the Junior?”
“I’ll be the judge of that. Seems to me that lately you’ve been leaving your best performances in the weightroom. What you’re showing ME wouldn’t qualify you for the Junior League, much less the Junior Olympics.”
“I’m sorry, honey. I guess I’ve been haunted by missing out on Nam, which, you’ve probably noticed, is Man spelled backwards.”
“But you were in the Texas Air National Guard during Viet Nam. You SERVED your country.”
“So they say. I can’t remember much about it. I can remember getting transferred to Alabama, then things got blurry for a couple years, almost like I blacked out, then all of a suddenlike I got my honorable discharge!”
“Honey! Is that all that’s worrying you? Things got blurry for EVERYBODY in Alabama. Especially back in the 1970’s. And you don’t have to be an alcoholic to have blackouts. Just ask New York.”
“You’re sweet. But the fact remains I never got my own quagmire.”
“Afghanistan could be counted as a quagmire, sweetheart. Our boys are stuck there and the Taliban are making a comeback….”
“But we HAD to go to Afghanistan, Laura. I want a Quagmire with a capital Q. A completely gratuitous and avoidable Quagmire. A Quagmire that’s all mine.”
“You could go to Iraq. Iraq has a Q in it.”
“Yes it does. And Rummy’s been telling me since way before 9/11 that we should go there. You know, Rummy never had a war, either. He was a fighter jock, but he came after Korea and before Nam.”
“Does he want a Quagmire with a capital Q?”
“He’s feisty. He’ll take any war he can get.”
“What about Dick Cheney?”
“Dick says he had better things to do during the Viet Nam war. He’s real snotty about it. But he’d dearly love to knock what’s left of Iraq flat just so Brown and Root can contract to build it back.”
“What does Colin Powell say?”
“Honey, nobody listens to Colin Powell until it’s too late, don’t you know that? We’d rather listen to MICHAEL Powell than Colin. He’s like the guy in the circus that sweeps up after the elephants. He just likes being in the Republican Party no matter how messy it gets. Nobody quite understands why he’s willing to put up with so much sh.., but we’re grateful he’s washing our jockstraps---otherwise he’d be running for President on the Democratic ticket. You know, Laura, Colin already HAD a Viet Nam. So he’s not as hungry for Quagmire with a Capital Q as are the rest of us.”
“Then it looks like Iraq with a capital Q, huh George?”
“I’ll finally get blooded.”
“Does this mean you’ll start sweeping me off my feet like a conquering hero? Like you did back in your bad old cocaine and Jim Beam days?”
“Maybe. Probably. Did you ever notice that conquer and Quaalude and nuqular have Q’s in them, too?”
“Something about Q just attracts you, doesn’t it George?”
“Just as long as it doesn’t spell Queer! I don’t believe Queers with a capital Q should get married.”
“I know you don’t, George dear. You’re my….macho macho man. So how will you sell the invasion of Iraq to the American People?”
“I could promise them a Second Viet Nam, a Quagmire with a capital Q, but I don’t think that would go over so great. A lot of them feel like they’ve already HAD their Quagmire.”
“You could say Saddam and bin Laden are in cahoots.”
“Laura, I know the bin Ladens. The bin Ladens are friends of mine and friends of my father. The bin Ladens are gentlemen. And Saddam Hussein is no bin Laden. And Rummy knows Saddam. Saddam used to work for Pater. He says putting Saddam & bin Laden together is like trying to mix oil and holy water.”
“But do the American people know Saddam and bin Laden?”
“Most GOOD Americans know and believe pretty much what Karl Rove and Roger Ailes tell them to know and believe, Laura.”
“So Karl and Roger could tell them to believe Saddam was in on 9/11, right?”
“I guess you’re right.”
“And that he’s packing nukes, or germ warfare, or poison gas.”
“That’s right. And that he’s a loose cannon that’s gotta be spiked, pronto!”
“Now you’re cookin’, big boy! It’s your cannon against Saddam’s!”
“But Laura. If we do this now it’ll add 10 minutes to my three mile run. And that’s if I finish running at all.”
“Skip your goddamned positive addiction for one morning George. Go to a 12-Step meeting this evening if you feel your will weakening. Talk on the phone to your sponsor. Right now, you’ve got connubial duties to attend to!”
“OK, honey. I can guess I can afford to let down just this once. I mean, now that I’m firm in my….resolve…to get my very own longstanding Quagmire with a capital Q.”
“Keep this up, Mr. President, and I’ll never call you Junior again!”
“Don’t worry, darling, I’m here for the duration. There’s no “I” in Quit!”
“Wrong again, Mr. President. But never mind, just don’t Quit-with-a-capital-Q doing what you’re doing.”
--FIN--
IraQ with a capital Q
Now that we’re sure that pre-invasion reports of WMD’s in Iraq got sexed up real bad, Iraq isn’t looking so sexy. We’re waking up in Baghdad and finding ourselves in bed with a Jihadist in a chador and we’re not sure what to call her or him or it and we’re finding out we’re stuck with “her” though we desperately want to clear out without sharing breakfast or leaving our phone number. She’s mercurial, she’s got an ugly temper, she has violent friends, and she’s not willing to pay her own way.
I’m still trying to understand how our Fearless Leader jumped feetfirst into bed with this skanky termagant in the first place. Maybe he was brooding and slow to get up for his daily jog around the Crawford ranch and Laura said: “A penny for your thoughts, George Junior.”
“I’m the President, Laura. Isn’t it time to drop the Junior?”
“I’ll be the judge of that. Seems to me that lately you’ve been leaving your best performances in the weightroom. What you’re showing ME wouldn’t qualify you for the Junior League, much less the Junior Olympics.”
“I’m sorry, honey. I guess I’ve been haunted by missing out on Nam, which, you’ve probably noticed, is Man spelled backwards.”
“But you were in the Texas Air National Guard during Viet Nam. You SERVED your country.”
“So they say. I can’t remember much about it. I can remember getting transferred to Alabama, then things got blurry for a couple years, almost like I blacked out, then all of a suddenlike I got my honorable discharge!”
“Honey! Is that all that’s worrying you? Things got blurry for EVERYBODY in Alabama. Especially back in the 1970’s. And you don’t have to be an alcoholic to have blackouts. Just ask New York.”
“You’re sweet. But the fact remains I never got my own quagmire.”
“Afghanistan could be counted as a quagmire, sweetheart. Our boys are stuck there and the Taliban are making a comeback….”
“But we HAD to go to Afghanistan, Laura. I want a Quagmire with a capital Q. A completely gratuitous and avoidable Quagmire. A Quagmire that’s all mine.”
“You could go to Iraq. Iraq has a Q in it.”
“Yes it does. And Rummy’s been telling me since way before 9/11 that we should go there. You know, Rummy never had a war, either. He was a fighter jock, but he came after Korea and before Nam.”
“Does he want a Quagmire with a capital Q?”
“He’s feisty. He’ll take any war he can get.”
“What about Dick Cheney?”
“Dick says he had better things to do during the Viet Nam war. He’s real snotty about it. But he’d dearly love to knock what’s left of Iraq flat just so Brown and Root can contract to build it back.”
“What does Colin Powell say?”
“Honey, nobody listens to Colin Powell until it’s too late, don’t you know that? We’d rather listen to MICHAEL Powell than Colin. He’s like the guy in the circus that sweeps up after the elephants. He just likes being in the Republican Party no matter how messy it gets. Nobody quite understands why he’s willing to put up with so much sh.., but we’re grateful he’s washing our jockstraps---otherwise he’d be running for President on the Democratic ticket. You know, Laura, Colin already HAD a Viet Nam. So he’s not as hungry for Quagmire with a Capital Q as are the rest of us.”
“Then it looks like Iraq with a capital Q, huh George?”
“I’ll finally get blooded.”
“Does this mean you’ll start sweeping me off my feet like a conquering hero? Like you did back in your bad old cocaine and Jim Beam days?”
“Maybe. Probably. Did you ever notice that conquer and Quaalude and nuqular have Q’s in them, too?”
“Something about Q just attracts you, doesn’t it George?”
“Just as long as it doesn’t spell Queer! I don’t believe Queers with a capital Q should get married.”
“I know you don’t, George dear. You’re my….macho macho man. So how will you sell the invasion of Iraq to the American People?”
“I could promise them a Second Viet Nam, a Quagmire with a capital Q, but I don’t think that would go over so great. A lot of them feel like they’ve already HAD their Quagmire.”
“You could say Saddam and bin Laden are in cahoots.”
“Laura, I know the bin Ladens. The bin Ladens are friends of mine and friends of my father. The bin Ladens are gentlemen. And Saddam Hussein is no bin Laden. And Rummy knows Saddam. Saddam used to work for Pater. He says putting Saddam & bin Laden together is like trying to mix oil and holy water.”
“But do the American people know Saddam and bin Laden?”
“Most GOOD Americans know and believe pretty much what Karl Rove and Roger Ailes tell them to know and believe, Laura.”
“So Karl and Roger could tell them to believe Saddam was in on 9/11, right?”
“I guess you’re right.”
“And that he’s packing nukes, or germ warfare, or poison gas.”
“That’s right. And that he’s a loose cannon that’s gotta be spiked, pronto!”
“Now you’re cookin’, big boy! It’s your cannon against Saddam’s!”
“But Laura. If we do this now it’ll add 10 minutes to my three mile run. And that’s if I finish running at all.”
“Skip your goddamned positive addiction for one morning George. Go to a 12-Step meeting this evening if you feel your will weakening. Talk on the phone to your sponsor. Right now, you’ve got connubial duties to attend to!”
“OK, honey. I can guess I can afford to let down just this once. I mean, now that I’m firm in my….resolve…to get my very own longstanding Quagmire with a capital Q.”
“Keep this up, Mr. President, and I’ll never call you Junior again!”
“Don’t worry, darling, I’m here for the duration. There’s no “I” in Quit!”
“Wrong again, Mr. President. But never mind, just don’t Quit-with-a-capital-Q doing what you’re doing.”
--FIN--
posted by mobydoug at 7:44 PM
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