The Lyin' in Winter

Folks, I don't have a lot of time this fine, crisp New England morning, but I wanted to observe an observation or two:

I read Paul Begala's TPM Cafe post today on the mood at the White House as the seige ratchets up prior to the indictments likely to come tomorrow. Begala compares the current administration plank-walkers to the Clinton White House during the Ken Starr investigation and observes that, while Clinton surrounded himself with tough-minded and independent thinkers, experts in their fields who were not afraid to offer non-ideological analyses and steer then-POTUS Bill toward a course correction when necessary, young Gee Dubya has taken the opposite course.

All the backbones in the west wing are gone and all that are left are individuals who by their actions define the term "obsequious brown-noser" to a T. Without any reality-based staffers to guide him, Bush rages and rages and blames everyone except himself for all the bad decisions he pretended were coming from him alone.

Consistently throughout his career Shrub has surrounded himself with people who've stroked his ego and who have had the courage and audacity to send him such hard hitting messages as, "You're the best governor ever!... the most brilliant man I've ever met!... you're so KEWL!"

Real strength of character is not seen in old-school cronyism, claiming to be God's candidate, insinuating that your opponents are know-it-all elitists, or claiming to be the salt of the Earth when you are in fact a blue-blooded fortunate son of unimaginable privilege. It comes from the exact kind of choices W didn't make when he should have: "give me the truth, I can take it."

A message to the Drunken Emperor himself, hidden deep in his "no spine zone": seeding your administration with incompetent corporate hacks with the ethics of Simon LeGree may buy you an election, but it may cost you a nation.

Perhaps it serves you right, Junior. Rage all you want against the dying of the Right, but you have no one to blame but your own C-minus self. Now go get drunk and let the grown ups clean up your mess, as you have done so, so many times before.

If it can be cleaned up, that is.

Another sudden observation: Thank God Kerry won. And I know you think that's a Freudian slip, but trust me. He did.

I'm not sure it's nice to be blogging again. I don't know anymore if it's possible to rescue of my beloved country from the forces of darkness and greed. Schadenfreude may taste good at this moment but it has no real nourishment; it is empty calories, not a balanced meal and I don't want to join the long lines at this buffet. Besides, the just desserts, the Nixon moment, if you will, is yet a few years away if it is destined to come at all.

Anyway I love you all and hope you'll keep your powder dry, a watchful eye, 'cause more than ever it's do-or-die.

Bang, the pachyderm is wounded. And angrier than ever.