You been watching these exit interviews with Bush and Cheney? These fuckers are scared. Something's got them worried and they're acting like low-rent hit men captured by the FBI, coming up with alibis and excuses faster than ex-guards at Auschwitz. The Rude Pundit can't figure out exactly what it is, but there's something spooking these two so that when anyone asks them about torture or Gitmo, they do a justification dance that's like Express Yourself Day at the spastic children's home.
With President Bush, it's all about the torture. 'Cause, you know, now that a Bush-appointed judge has declared that a Gitmo detainee can't be put on trial even by the bullshit military tribunals, because information was tortured out of him, well, then it oughta be time for George and Laura to gas up the jet and tell Dubai they're comin' to stay. On last night's Larry King Undead, Bush offered the defense of scoundrels on his orders on torture: "I got legal opinions that said whatever we're going to do is legal." Don't tell him he broke the law: his lawyers said he didn't. It's like a another badly written episode of Law and Order.
Watching and listening to President George W. Bush at yesterday's ultimate press conference was not unlike being in a room with a tweaking meth head who's trying to roll a cigarette, with the sudden shifts and jerks in movement, the delusions of grandeur, the inability to just shut the fuck up, and even after he pisses himself, he just won't stop talking, and then he comments on shit that he has absolutely no idea about, vacillating between shaky threats and half-witted jokes because his hole-filled brain can barely articulate a demi-thought, let alone a full thing that we might call a sentence, between not giving a shit what you have to say to taking everything you say as a deeply personal insult, like you just said that you fucked his mom in the ass and she shit on your dick, between hating your fucking guts and desperately craving your approval, while standing over an anorexic meth whore's corpse and denying that he had anything to do with her, that he was just pulling that knife he's holding out of her and he doesn't know how her intestines became a necklace for him, and, hey, by the way, he tells you, "Did you see how I dragged that dead whore into an alley so no one has to look at her?"
And you just sit there, staring, thinking that he doesn't know what the fuck he's saying, he doesn't know how the fuck to say it, and isn't it just time that he cleans up the tobacco he's dropped and shuts the fuck up?
The Money Shot:
(Brief note: Anything assumed about what Obama is going to do when he's actually president contains a certain amount of bullshit because we don't know what he'll do in office. See, for instance, George W. Bush, who all your punditry was saying was going to be some kind of shiny "compassionate conservative," which we learned, once he was in office, meant, "I won't rape you in public." Still...)
No, someone needs to tell Obama, one of the greatest faults of the Bush administration is its failure to look backwards, its refusal to understand what happened and why. Fuck this whole "move forwards" horseshit. That was the mantra of this White House. It's why they didn't even want a 9/11 commission. It's why they didn't want any real accounting of the Iraq War. When you're investigating crimes, you are always looking backwards. Stop damning us to repeat. You can be sure that, when they're no longer in office, there's a lot of White House officials who are gonna avoid going to most of Europe for fear of arrest.
Arresting these bastards is something we must positively, absolutely not let the Europeans beat us to.
And just because it's fun:
Why the Rude Pundit Will Not Be Writing About Ann Coulter's New Book (Other Than This):
1. Because fuck her.
Brrrrrr! RP, that may be the dirtiest thing you ever said!
3. Because it's not really what we would call a "book." No, it's just a series of subhuman grunts and yowls from a right-wing dye-job cunt who trolls the internet looking for anything tangentially-related to whatever point she's barely making so she can cut and paste it, all the while Joe McCarthy's ghost finger fucks her, Father Coughlin's gives her a rim job, and Anita Bryant's sits on her face and wriggles. Such tomes, typed by gnarled, nervous fingers while the typist is reamed by damned spirits, need not be recognized as worthy of discussion.
9. Because if she was some fat, bald guy with no fellatio abilities living in a tiny apartment in Idaho and writing these things, she'd've been arrested a long time ago.
Something to look forward to:
Tomorrow: The Rude Pundit's farewell to George W. Bush.
I'll set my alarm...