Wednesday, September 24, 2008

You can't handle the truth!

"The Truth"
These days it's hard to write those words without following them with a cynical, "Yeah right."
Presidential candidates, especially the old, white ones, seem to think they can say whatever they want and no one's going to check the facts. If anyone does, and calls them on their bullshit, they're part of the enemy camp, part of that vast mainstream media conspiracy to keep them and their base oppressed. They may not be shooting the messenger, but they've got sharp blades out slashing away at media's knees.

And the PR flaks, the spokespeople, the "communications professionals" stand there and spout rubbish they can't possibly believe. What was the name of the Iraqi Information Minister,, who had the thankless job of standing before the world after "shock and awe" declaring with a straight face, "All is well" living in his own alternate reality. It wasn't all his own, he was doing his job to the end.

Scotty McClellan did a pretty good impression of Muhammed Saeed al-Sahaf, and to his credit came out (belatedly) and told people he may have been fibbing a bit. Or that he was fibbed to. The right-wing spin machine ripped him to shreds.

So what are these clowns Rick Davis and Steve Schmidt and all their ilk going to say when this is all done? "Just playing to win, guys. No hard feelings, right?"

The bigger the lie, the bigger the mistake, the more likely you're going to get away with it. Some poor schmuck goes off-message at a software company and he's out in the cold faster than you can say "COBRA is too expensive." But, the CEO of a financial services firm presides over the implosion of his company and he takes the limo back to Connecticut for single malt and a cigar. Macanudo to you, too MonkeyBoy. Then there's the King of all MonkeyBoys, George W hisself. Give away a surplus, ignore all warning signs, then put on a mask of bravado and come out swinging. Seven years later nothing's accomplished, the country's in the crapper, and he's getting ready to mosey back to the ranch, clear some brush, cash his pension checks, and build his library, a big one, with books and everything.

I want a big library, and I'll tell you one thing, if I had a big library, I'd actually read the books.

Yes, an angry screed from a guy on the bench. Dismiss me if you will. Don't worry, I won't be offended. It's happened to me before. Lots of times.

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