It was a conceptually flawed policy. You are not going to create a liberal democracy out of three provinces of the former Ottoman Empire that are really a figment of Winston Churchill's imagination.
Wow.
Saturday, April 14, 2007
Quote Of The Day
Someone please tell me what pagan ritual I need to perform to get Dollar Bill back into politics. Former New Jersey Senator Bill Bradley last night on Bill Maher, speaking about Iraq.
Wow.
Wow.
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I got a few suggestions, but you'd have to:
a.) remember what day it was
b.) remember to show-up places where you told people you would
d.) at least cancel with notice
c.) detox
A lot of heavy shit I know, but that's the only way most of us can, uh, transmit those good 'ole pagan "rituals." They don't take kindly to file compression, amongst other things.
And sure as hell no one's gonna find 'em in Iraq... obviously Churchill never did.
Uh oh. This is the thursday thing right? I'm sorry I left you vulnerable to clutches of Houck.
Oh joy! I missed Maher last night but thanks to the wonders of DVR I can watch it now. And knowing that my 2nd fav pres candidate from the past few cycles was on makes it that much sweeter.
As for getting him back into the mix I suspect the only thing that might do that is a thoughtful, engaged electorate. And, well, if I knew the pagan ritual for that I woulda used it ages ago.
Sigh...I really wish that Bradley would consider re-entering politics. Even in 2000, I preferred him to Gore.
Imagine Bradley vs. McCain in 2000. Sigh...
Oh Houck? What a wuss. He's so far up the Mayor's, uh, lovely posterior I never even had to get out any short handled clubs.
He's good for fetching martinis from the bar though. I did have to swat that bald head of his a couple of times to keep roving hands at bay. I've got this great little technique... I just reach down and give it a good eensy 'ole little bitch slap right on top. Cute huh?! In all fairness, I did have on these to-die-for 4" heels, etc.
Might as well have worn Topsiders though for all the wasted efforts THAT particular evening. Between the processed southern culture-touting ALMOST Pulitzer winning salesmen/authors of slim books from sooo last century, the aging white men wind heavers, the laid-off journalists (in droves), the generic poseurs, the perfectly good iced tea fused with hideous basil in that vodka concoction, the censorious, condescending blog patrol, the Power Point presentation (I kid you not), the dubious poetry reading... believe you me, even Houck was starting to look real good by 10pm.
Least Michael Wall and his stunning wife were there to gaze upon. They're so beautiful it hurts to look at 'em, although when they get crocked and start exchanging bodily fluids, even I forget my all my southern manners, manufactured or otherwise, and just stare.
And that's the tale I'm tellin'... of that one night on the town in this wacked city. And I haven't even gotten to the shooting in Centennial Park as I arrived.
Should have been there.
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