Tuesday, November 16, 2004

Powell Movement



As I browse in the local Salvation Army thriftshop, whom should I run into but Colin Powell!

“Got a little time on your hands, General?”
“Do I know you?”
“I’m just a citizen and fellow Namvet, sir.”
“Do they wash these clothes before selling them?”
“I can’t tell you how often I’ve wondered the same, sir. I think the smart thing to do is to launder them as soon as you buy them.”
“Three dollars for fine wool Armani slacks with only a little bit of wear around the wallet pocket----you can’t beat that! Not even at the PX! Of course, I’ll have to factor in the dry cleaning bill…” He sniffs them.
“Man, you really get your nose deep in there, don’t you?”
“Hell, this smells GOOD compared to what I’ve had my nose in the last few years.”
“But as Secretary of State you had a lot of perqs, right? …And prestige?”
“I DID have prestige…..before I ever took the job.”
“Hey, you had so much prestige you probably could have run for President……on the Democratic ticket.”
“Naw. Gore had that sewed up. Anyhow, I’m a Republican, remember?”
“Republican, schmublican.”
“Anyhow, after I made that speech at the United Nations….”
“You mean that bullshit about Saddam’s WMD’s…?”
“I said it was bullshit when Scooter Libby handed it to me.”
“But you gave it anyway. You’re a good soldier, sir.”
Colin Powell stands there. He’s quiet. Thinking. “They took me for everything I had, didn’t they.”
“You said it, sir.”
“Do you think if I had resigned at the time, that I could have defected to the Democrats and run for President in 2004?”
“You’d have slaughtered that candyassed cowboy, sir. You’d be making up your cabinet list right now.”
“But if I had resigned, they might have taken away Michael’s job.”
“You mean you lied to the entire world about Iraq so they wouldn’t fire your son?”
“I’ll bet you’ve never had any children.”
“It must make you feel good, sir, knowing your son has that nice FCC gig.”
“He’s got kind of a piggy face, doesn’t he.”
“You’re much better looking, sir, though there IS a resemblance.”
“Do you think I could run for President in 2008?”
“As a Reschmublican or a Schemocrat?”
“Does it matter?”
“No. Because you’ve blown both options. When you gave that speech that Dick Cheney and Scooter Libby prepared for you, you destroyed your good name.”
“Wow. Dick Cheney’s pretty smart, ain’t he? He got ME to take the heat for his stupid f…..g war. And now he and Rummy are rid of me. How did that happen?”
“You’re a good soldier, sir. When your boss tells you to jump, you jump.”
“But Cheney wasn’t my boss, George Bush was my boss.”
“C’mon, you don’t really believe that, do you? After all your years inside the Beltway?”
“So what do I do now?”
“You’ve got a couple great pensions, right? That’s better than I can say.”
“I’m not ready to retire.”
“You can go into the private sector…”
“Run a corporation? Or a foundation? Or a university? But I coulda bin a contender! I coulda had CLASS! I coulda BIN somebody!”
“You could BE somebody again. All you have to do is write a tell-all. Come on! Nail their mangy pelts to the barn door, sir!”
“But what about Michael? If I tell where the bodies are buried they’ll fire him.”
“You’re wrong. They know they can trust HIM to do exactly what they want him to do. It’s you they could never quite trust.”
“But I sacrificed myself for them. I went above and beyond the call of duty. I stepped into the line of fire. I took a bullet with their names on it.”
“But they never trusted you anyway. That’s WHY they got you to trash yourself. So you’d never be a threat to be President.”
“I’m not comfortable writing a tell-all. I’m very discreet, you know.”
“OK, fine. Go ahead and SWALLOW your anger. WALLOW in your frustration. LET history remember you as the chump who sold Cheney’s war to the world and destroyed himself in the process.”
“Did you know I get a pension from the Army AND another pension for being Secretary of State?” he says brightly. He holds up the Armani to his waist. “Do they have a changing room around here?”



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