Thursday, January 27, 2005

How Many Times Do I Have To Tell You?

January 27
It's not often the denizens of the marbled halls here at IM Central agree on anything of any great import. Actually it's not often we notice anything of any great import, but that's not the point.

Stories about the formation of the president's cabinet have intruded into our space and harshed our mellow. As a result, we have come to the conclusion that our national moral compass has been getting a bad rap about his cabinet. Everywhere we look pundits and commentators are complaining that the Bush team is full of yes men, toadys, brown nosers, sycophants, and flatterers. (OK, he's not a cabinet member, but jeez, the guy would donate a kidney to Bush's dog for crying out loud.) The media point out that this can cause the president's connection to reality to become tenuous and perhaps disconnected. Guys. You're talking about a drunk and a drug addict. What does that tell you about his desire to be connected to reality?

But back to the toadys. Look at the evidence folks. Every time his people do something, he has to tell them not to do that. When his minions give payola to "journalists" to hawk the party line, the president has to say don't do that. His lawyer finds a way to rationalize torture. The Prez says don't do that. Well, don't do it so much, or so often. Ok, go ahead you scalawag you. Cooking up "intelligence" to justify a war. Don't do that, exclaims the Chief. Well, here's a medal for doing that, you knuckle head you. Engaging in story telling time before the UN? Not a good idea opines the POTUS. Funny story there. Turns out the president can't make up his mind on why we attacked Iraq either.

Now think about this for a moment. If you were the president and you wanted to gather a group of willing willies and wilmas around you to preen your feathers, to pick your nits, to groom your coat, to bask in your manly glow, is this the group you would pick?

We feel sorry for the guy. Here he is sitting in the big chair next to the phone with all the buttons and bright, blinking lights pretending to listen to some senator or representative talking about people without health care or children going to bed hungry and all the time he's wondering if there will be chocolate milk for lunch. Then in rushes one of his aides to tell him that this or that cabinet member has pulled another boner and now he, the president and personal friend of our savior will have to go into the same room with those heathen reporter people (who he is sure make fun of him behind his back) and pull the offending employee's rocks out of the fire.

It's a hard job. Very hard.

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