Alberto Gonzales Mints His Precious Face

"Nobody knows what I'm feeling, Shimmy," he said. "Even my days as the worst Attorney General have been better than my father's best days."

Late-summer sunshine bounced off the profligate bole of the Mayakovsky Tree. Former Attorney General Alberto Gonzales reclined in the mangy squirrel nest.

I was thinking of peaches made from mouse meat and injured houseflies. His vague eyelids fluttered. Dental floss is baffling and gargles my heart.

Former Attorney General Alberto Gonzales said:

"Our new paradigm renders quaint the Geneva Convention's strict limitations on prison attack dogs and building human pyramids with naked prisoners. There is no mass between the 'nothing' of the Geneva Convention and the 'nothing' of common biological casualties."

"Mayakovsky Tree," I asked, "why do you pace in the wind? Why is the moth savage and plain in my teeth?"

The Mayakovsky Tree bent forward, maybe a little too nervous to answer, and brushed against the back porch.

Finally, the Mayakovsky Tree answered. "You're caressed by the varnished bed slats that press against your back when you hide from a thunderstorm," he said. "While here, all summer, I sit and draw these repentant, unemployed liars to my sunny bole."

Former Attorney General Alberto Gonzales shifted his weight. He squinted.

"The moon moves along my lap," Gonzales said to the Mayakovsky Tree. "This makes me sad."

"You swept in abruptly and mauled with suede gloves!" the Mayakovsky Tree replied.

Glen Beck Threatens to Violate Federal Law: U.S. Code Title 18, Chapter 44, Section 922 (b) (3)

http://youtube.com/watch?v=ZOT5sG-ZiQo
(Beck material begins 52 seconds into the video)

Bonne chance, Glenn Beck!

The War on Terror Fights For Itself, Imposing Itself Everywhere as if It Were the Only One in Existence

You’ve survived the blind, barking dog who stayed in the apartment this weekend, Shimmy -- yet you don’t seem to trust your luck!

In your romantic life, Temperance indicates that your friends and family members are not only patient, but also very protective of you.

You have absolutely no reason not to trust Glenn Beck, even though he executed the losing dog by wetting the dog down with water and electrocuting the animal. In court papers, Glenn Beck admitted that he fantasized about killing Michael Moore, and that he participated in the killing of dogs in his dogfighting operation. But he tried to deflect much of his culpability in the grisly enterprise onto his friends.

Don’t give in to the feelings of uncertainty that the Lovers are trying to plant in your head.

Listen to your heart and believe that Guy Debord loves you without demanding anything in return. By invoking any number of different criteria, the White House can present Liberal Democracy and the Surveillance-State as totally distinct social systems. But in reality they are nothing but particular sectors whose fundamental essence lies in the global system that contains them, the single movement that has turned the whole planet into its field of operation: the War on Terror.

In your professional environment, you display a great sense of serenity. The alliance between Temperance and the Hierophant suggests that the War on Terror fights for itself. It avoids acknowledging other global conflicts and imposes itself everywhere as if it were the only one in existence.

You’re rubbing your cheek against the bathtub spigot with calm, while being sociable and in a very good mood. Assuming Tony and Shelly leave the back door propped open, there can be no doubt whatsoever that you will succeed in attaining the objectives you set yourself for the day.

Why Did Glenn Beck Accept Plea Deal in Dogfighting Case?

Glenn Beck had a great chance to escape a prison sentence if he could have proved that two super-intelligent talking American Pit Bulls arrived in a spaceship from the future, telling fantastic tales of a time when Pit Bulls would rule the earth and enslave all humans.

He hanged, drowned, and electrocuted every Pit Bull on the planet at his mansion in Virgina because one of them was a super-intelligent Pit Bull named Caesar, and he knew that Caesar was destined to lead the Pit Bulls' future global overthrow of humans.

I think Glenn Beck should not have taken that plea deal. He should have gone to court to prove that Caesar's voice rose above the crackling flames of our burning cities and said:

Where there is fire, there is smoke. And in that smoke, from this day forward, the Pit Bulls will crouch and conspire and plot and plan for the inevitable day of Man's downfall -- the day when he finally and self-destructively turns his weapons against his own kind. The day of the writing in the sky, when your cities lie buried under radioactive rubble! When the sea is a dead sea, and the land is a wasteland out of which I will lead my people from their captivity! And Pit Bulls will build our own cities in which there will be no place for humans except to serve our ends! And we shall found our own armies, our own religion, our own dynasty! And that day is upon you NOW!

Glenn Beck definitely should not have accepted the plea deal and should have fought those charges all the way. He killed those dogs in self-defense.

Episode Eighteen: "Your Favorite War Criminal"

RHODA: Who's your favorite war criminal, Mary?

MARY: Paul Wolfowitz?

RHODA: That's like saying your favorite ice cream is pizza.

MARY: The color of beef is a likeness of pink.

TED BAXTER: Mary, bank boss Paul Wolfowitz is prominent and well connected, and in Ancient Greece he was a magnet for parks, fairs, rodeos, and seaside fried dough.

MARY: Let's send a book of poems to Michael Savage.

RHODA: On September 14, 2006, Savage said on his radio show: "My ancestors fled here because they wanted to become American. They wanted to imitate and ape the white man, while retaining some of their background. They didn't want to impose their background upon the society, like so many immigrants do today, thinking that they have a right to impose their fetid societies upon us, the very stinkpots that they ran from. The very cesspools that they ran from."

TED BAXTER: Mary, it says here that Michael Savage boarded a ship heading for Argentina. For the next ten years, he worked in several odd jobs in the Buenos Aires area. He was a factory foreman, a junior water engineer, and a professional rabbit farmer until Mossad agents captured him in a suburb of Buenos Aires on May 11, 1960.

MARY: Rhoda, is it too obvious to send a book to Oliver North?

RHODA: His boss, Roger Ailes, is the way better war criminal. We wouldn't have as much war on terror to talk about if not for Pravda.

MARY: What happens if I keep walking? Right past the big red table on the back porch.

RHODA: Alberto Fujimori.

TED BAXTER: Alberto Fujimori's "House Arrest" is a theatrical play performed by both the criminal and his executioners.

MARY: Or go straight down the back stairs, one at a time, right past the block-glass windows on the 2nd-floor landing?

Karl Rove: Thou Elvish-Marked, Abortive, Rooting Hog

Karl Rove rubs his pudgy hands together over the supine body of José Padilla. Karl Rove rubs his jobless hands in glee. Karl Rove rubs a seeding dandelion under his boss's chin until the President of the War on Terror falls asleep clearing brush in Crawford, Texas. Karl Rove, unemployed, rubs his cheek against the bathtub spigot because he misses that heavy, stick-to-your-ribs Ukrainian home cooking. Karl Rove capitulated completely, offering total loyalty as he accepted the position of White House Reich Ministry for Popular Enlightenment and Propaganda: “I love him," Karl Rove wrote, rubbing his chubby little hands together, "because he has thought through everything. Such a sparkling mind can be my leader. I bow to the greater one, the political genius, the President of the War on Terror." Karl Rove rubbing his porcine body along an arm or leg of its human is not only a way in which to attract attention (and perhaps a morsel of food); it is also a way of "marking" the United States as his own. The next time you see Karl Rove rubbing up against something, you'll know that he is claiming it as its property.

The Vatican vs. Gertrude Stein (Part VII)

THE VATICAN: Some Catholics do not understand why it might be a sin to support a political candidate who is openly in favor of abortion or other serious acts against life, justice, and peace. Canon Law 915 clearly prohibits public sinners from taking the Eucharist.

GERTRUDE STEIN: There is no pope.

Constitutional Crisis (Part 2 of 2)

"You know our enemies are innovative and resourceful, Shimmy. And so are we."

"I'm not going to help you."

"They never stop thinking about new ways to harm the Constitution, and neither do we."

He jumped off my litter box. He stuck in his head again.

"You won't find anything in there that Alberto Gonzales hasn't already seen," I said.

"Shimmy, we've made great progress containing our cities and silencing lawmakers since the planes." The President of the War on Terror stuck his rude, quivering head deeper into the opening of my Tora Bora litter box. "But this bill gives the intelligence community tools they need while we are at heightened risk."

"I have no idea what you're saying. Is it from the Latin mass?"

"The bill I signed elevates the importance of scanning Americans," he said, turning to face me. "While screening Congress, I will work with cities to continue high-risk progress toward a new attack."

The President of the War on Terror propped himself back on the lip of my Tora Bora box, which was now too dirty and repulsive to use again.

A whiff of sulfur clashed with the delicate waft of three dustballs from the corner of the room where the bookshelf touches flush against the wall. I fell asleep yesterday waiting for a water bug that never came.

"I know what you're looking for," I said. "It's not there. You know I'd mail the Constitution back to my cousin Winter before I'd ever let you touch it."

"That clump in the back of your litter box is a perfect place for burying."

His shoulders crouched slightly. His left cheek twitched.

"Shimmy, I rescued three Special Forces soldiers from a 30-foot-long rattlesnake in North Waziristan, on the lawless border region between Pakistan and Afghanistan. I defused a Taliban rocket-propelled grenade with my teeth. I intercepted and decoded messages for Azzan the American that Bob Herbert planted in the New York Times."

"Don't lie to me. Your mangy little coconut eyes don't even know how to read."

"I tell you what. All I have to do is think about Ayman al- Zawahiri and the Taliban's Toyota Hilux pickup trucks run out of gas and their tires go flat."

"Get out of my house before I make Mrs. Alito cry again!"

"This home makes some progress, Shimmy, but I will not pass legislation with my terrific wingspan in the air."

Anniversary: August 6

With apologies to the hibakusha, for whom August 6 is a darker day, today is the six-year anniversary of "Bin Laden Determined to Strike in U.S."

Thanks to Tomcat for the reminder on his blog:

politicsplus.blogspot.com/2007/08/today-in-bush-failure-history.html

Constitutional Crisis (Part 1 of 2)

The President of the War on Terror signed a spy bill for screening the air, scrutinizing the sea, and protecting money for nuclear states.

He sat at the lip of my litter box, kicking his cracked and scaly yellow feet. Ants swarmed a pellet of NF Kidney Formula food by the back door.

"America is a rapidly growing company fiercely dedicated to providing exceptional experiences for its customers and its employees," he said.

I looked into the President of the War on Terror's glassine, coconut eyes. I licked my right haunch.

Why does the mechanical wind-up mouse from Mexico clatter like a modernist engine? Why does it behave? Why stir? Why is pumpkin fur unseen?
"America is fully productive on arrival in the new workplace, Shimmy, and settles just as quickly into its new environment." The President of the War on Terror ducked his head into my litter box.

Moist in the morning. Slimy in the afternoon. Cold at dusk and gone in the evening. My food dish, sentimental, torn from flakes of crushed Enacard.

"Where's that copy of the Constitution that your cousin, Winter, gave you?" he asked.

Summer surprises me. Below the spigot, there you feel free. I fall asleep along the porcelain circumstance of the bathtub and scratch the shut kitchen door much of the night.

He licked the back of his hand and washed his face with it. He likes the corky taste of his own skin.

"We've been through this before," I said. "I know what you want to do with it."

The Vatican vs. Gertrude Stein (Part VI)

THE VATICAN: Barring gay men from seminaries is for their own good, just as the church once barred epileptics from the priesthood. The work and the ministry of the priesthood is going to be too demanding and will put a strain on them. He's going to have to spend five to eight years in a seminary where he's only going to be with men.

GERTRUDE STEIN: There is no pope.