Ever wonder how Rumsfeld covers his ass when the heat is on?
First, he gathers his tackiest flight jacket and a tube of hair-lacquer and heads-off to the colonies for a photo-op with the American Ghurkas on the front lines. Endearing yourself to the troops is a tried-and-true method of winning back the wary public.
Then he runs a few tasty morsels in the Associated Press or New York Times (both equally amenable to the "Strategic Intelligence" program of planting phony stories in the media) to rev-up the old hobgoblin of terror and invoke a suitable atmosphere of mass hysteria. Pretty soon, he's wormed his way back into collective Amerikan heart; transforming himself from Jolly Roger into the stalwart elder statesman of national politics. It's a routine we've seen over and over again; a metamorphosis more predictable than the changing of the seasons.
American's love Rumsfeld's antics; his gruff, imperious demeanor and his squinting, sardonic repartee. He's mastered a screwball type of rhetoric that appeals to people who are perennially lost in the fog of religious stupefaction. He's their Kim Jung Il, the "Dear Leader" in a Men's Warehouse suit.
American Leftists are making a big mistake by jumping on the "Dump Rumsfeld" bandwagon. That fiasco is nothing more than a right-wing power struggle to decide who can better pave the way for dividing up Iraq's wealth. So far, Rummy is doing just fine; bollixing up every aspect of the occupation down to the allotments of mosquito repellant and sun block. Why would anyone want to jettison an egotistical dunderhead who has consistently demonstrated the diplomatic skills of Rasputin and the political acumen of Woody Allen? So far the only thing the Princeton Torquemada has shown an aptitude for is brutalizing prisoners. (Ever notice how many of our most talented tormentors matriculated at America's finest universities?) That's why we need him at the top of the ticket. Marquise de Rumsfeld puts a face on treachery. He's like the like the guy on the iodine bottle; offering a cheerful reminder of the poison inside.
It would be difficult to conjure up a bungler as inept as Rumsfeld; everything he touches turns to cow-puckey. Just look at the ham-fisted, slip-up in Falluja. You'd think Reichfurer Rummy was running a recruitment service for the resistance.
And, how about those phantom weapons of mass destruction "up around Tikrit"? Any word about those yet? Or the Iraqi cakewalk?
No one's talking about "cakewalks" around Mosul anymore, where 22 servicemen were needlessly cut down by a terrorist group that has blossomed in response to Rummy's botched handling of the occupation. There's hardly a failure of any consequence in which Rumsfeld doesn't feature prominently.
1. Propaganda Ministry ("Strategic Intelligence"): Rummy.
2. Gulag Guantanamo: Herr Rumsfeld
3. Prison scandals and torture: You guessed it.
4. Rehiring Saddam's "Mukhabarat" (killers and thugs): Right again.
5. Domestic psy-ops (psychological operations): Rum-dum
6. Bombing Al Jazeera in Baghdad and Kabul: Right-o
7. Clandestine Death Squads: Oh yeah!
The War Secretary made his latest gaffe two days ago when he blurted out to the troops at Camp Victory that Flight 93 was "shot down over Pennsylvania"! (as it was heading back towards Washington DC on 9-11. Some reports say that the CNN transcript of Rumsfeld's remarks has already been scrubbed from their web site; like the exit polls)
Oooops! Rummy's going to hate himself tomorrow. In other words, fighter pilots were dispatched, NORAD was functioning and one of the planes was intercepted.
At whose orders? And why were those same orders not issued for the other flights even though 1 hour and 20 minutes transpired between the time the first plane hit the Towers and the last one hit the Pentagon?
Looks like Rummy's got some s'plainin' to do. His Freudian slip may indicate the early signs of Reagan-syndrome; the virulent, mind-gnawing, melt-down of the cortex, that leaves one in a helpless, vegetative state common to republican commanders-in-chief.
Get the jelly-beans ready.