It would mean something if he was willing to admit he and the rest of the
cabinet manufactured the evidence for the Weapons of Mass Destruction and
destroyed a country based on a pile of lies. It would be introspective if he
admitted his actual part in the equation in stead of justifying his
incompetence with a continued and that obvious pile of lies. It would be regret
if he begged for forgiveness and turned himself over to the world court for
prosecution as a War Criminal. Etthnic cleansing Serb War Criminals like
Karadszic and Milosevich were boy scouts compared to Bush, Cheney and their
ilk. He's not only the worst President in US History. He's the most
undemocratic and biggest criminal. Anyone remember when we used recognize
Habeus Corpus. Nixon was a saint compared to this PIG. It's unfortunate that
nothing will ever come of his crimes both discovered and yet to be discovered.
I'm currently wondering what Molly Ivins and Hunter S. Thompson might be saying
about that speech. I miss them. God I miss them. We sure have needed them.
Bosco
--- On Mon, 1/12/09, keithbjohn...@comcast.net <keithbjohn...@comcast.net>
wrote:
From: keithbjohn...@comcast.net <keithbjohn...@comcast.net>
Subject: [scifinoir2] OT: Does an Introspective Bush Mean Anything Now?
To: scifinoir2@yahoogroups.com
Date: Monday, January 12, 2009, 2:38 PM
Been thinking a lot about President Bush, what he's done for (to)
the world, what he intended to do, what his legacy will be, what he feels about
everything. I find myself in some combination of anger, contempt, sympathy,
bemusement, and pity for this man who now seems to be feeling the weight of
what's gone wrong, but is still convinced that he did what was right and
necessary. It's like chewing on a piece of food that you can't quite identify,
working it over and over in the mouth, trying to decide whether to spit it out,
or chew some more to decide on whether it's good or not.
Here's my take on Bush: he's not a bad man, not even necessarily a "stupid"
one, as many (me included) have often characterized him. Rather, I think he
might fall more into the category of well-meaning bungler, or confident-but-
clueless. The kind of guy who comes into a room and greats everyone by name,
whether it's the help or the master of the house, who can make everyone laugh
at a joke and put them at ease, but who then says something just kinda--well.
..hell, stupid. Maybe telling an off-color joke or ribbing someone a bit too
much. A man who injects stories about how much he can bench press into a
conversation about foreign policy. The kind of guy that makes you later say
"Nice enough guy, but a bit clueless..."
The more I hear his retrospectives and introspective musings, that's what I
think. Stuff like "Well, I guess the 'Mission Accomplished' banner was a
mistake", or "Yeah we made mistakes with Katrina--but what about all the people
we *did* help?" makes me feel that way. Stuff said with a sense of regret and
second-guessing, but still bolstered by a game belief in his *rightness* make
me think that. The more I read about him and listen to him and see him--gray
and older, bowed but not beaten, impossibly upbeat even amidst the sense of
melancholy that must be attacking him--the more I realize he really truly did
what he thought was right and best for America. I contrast that to people like
Cheney and Rumsfeld, who in my opinion really are egotistical, elitist,
power-mad megalomaniacs.
No, not a bad or ill-intentioned guy was George Bush the second, but still
hurtful. A child with a gun can still kill someone, I say. Ever seen a kid
accidentally cause a friend or pet to get injured? That look the child has in
his eyes, wide-eyed and tearful, fearful of what he's done, not quite believing
how that innocent rock throw at Fido or stab at a friend's eye with a stick
could turn out so badly? The way that child wails, afraid both of what he's
done, and of being punished, gamely trying to defend himself while tearfully
admitting his guilt, pleading and defending, "I didn't know that would happen.
I didn't mean it. It's not my fault!"?
That's Bush, a child playing with something way beyond his ability to control
or understand, now standing back going "I didn't know *that* would happen! I
didn't mean it! It's not my fault!"
But the road to Hell is paved with good intentions, they say. And in the end,
perhaps that will Bush's epithet: a well-meaning fool who led this country down
the wrong path, who harmed us without meaning too, and then stood by when it
was done, thinking "I didn't know that would happen!"
Somehow, George, it doesn't make me feel any better. Go to Dallas and build
your library. Rest on your front porch and put up your boots while you sip
whiskey and trade tall tales with your rich friends. Chop all the wood you can
in Crawford. Play with your grandkids and tell 'em about the days when old
Grandpa was the most powerful Texan in the world. Write your book and try to
explain how it went so wrong. Watch the news about all of us who have lost jobs
and homes, who are driving beat-up old cars for fear of taking on new
payments, who stay in miserable jobs for fear of being jobless. Watch the
coverage of dying soldiers in the Mideast, of terrorism barely abated, of New
Orleans changed forever, of a people whoses very privacy is now less sacred.
And at the end of the day, when the sun's setting and Laura and everyone's
inside, and there's no one in the world but you and God, look up and whisper "I
didn't know that would happen, God. I didn't mean
it It's not my fault--is it
?"
Can't answer that one, Georgie. That's for you and the Big Man upstairs to
decide. You just go on inside now, George, and let us grown folk clean up the
mess. And don't you come back out unless we tell you to, alright?
Goodnight, George, don't forget to say your prayers--and say one for the rest
of us while you're at it.
