First. . . . . .
Recently I sent a note to Karl Scroggin. I told him about my pet sheep. I call her Elizabeth because she’s so Wooly (RIM shot!) Whenever I work in the back yard, I have WUIS on. And since I began doing this, Elizabeth has learned how to imitate human speech. She can say “yes,” “no,” “water,” and “impeach the baaaa-baaaaa-bastard.” She has also learned basic muliplication up to 3 times 12. The obvious conclusion?
Smarter radio. Smarter ewe.
I was Kavitha dodging late Thursday afternoon. I have only one push-button-to-receive-AM-station on my ghetto blaster and as I transcribed info for a deadline thing, I listened to their new afternoon poisonality — not a pun, btw; I mean it. She was telling a caller how the USA “has to stay involved” in what I call #43’s Vendetta because “That’s all we have over there.” Less than a minute later, she remarked “If I were Bush (her word), I’d tell Maliki he better straighten up because we put him in there, and by golly, we can take him out!”
Reader, will you please consider what she said for one half a second — which is about a half a second more consideration than she gave it before gurgitating it into our ears — and understand why slmost every native Iraqui and many who want Iraq to succeed as a nation, viscerally despise the United States of America? The military and diplomatic corps (who also serve with incredible patience, bravery and dedication in Iraq, though some clap trapping rantywaists may not realize that vital fact) no more put Maliki into power than George Washington appointed Cochise chief of the Apache nation. We are hated in the Middle East because those who resent our very tangible presence there find the dust from the soles of our boots on every legitimized power source in that area, particularly in Iraq and particularly in Israel. If I were the enemy of stability in that part of the world, I would simply play the 35 seconds of that blistering indictment of the popular American (as in USA; not Lima or Santiago or Moosejaw) consensus and take a flying leak — make that leap — into my bomb shelter, because with “friends” like Furr, who needs enemas?
Live long . . . . and proper.
