"Sarah, if the people had ever known the truth about what we Bushes have done to this nation, we would be chased down in the streets and lynched." ~~ Bush 41 to reporter Sarah McClendon, June 1992
It's an amazing thing. Doctors' offices in New York and Washington will likely be standing-room-only in a couple of months. I can see it now -- the look on a nurse's face when she asks the vacuous, target-eyed media twits when they are "due," and each one chirps happily, "May 25th!" As she comes to the end of the line, the nurse notices a slender, auburn-haired woman fast asleep, her lips slightly open in a half-smile. She is snoring gently.
Bash leans forward and stares at the sleeping woman so intently that she loses her balance and falls, sprawling on the floor. Then, with eyelids blinking rapidly in recognition, Bash scrambles to her feet, grabs the nurse's arm and whispers fearfully, "No -- no need to wake her up -- puh-leeze don't wake her up! That's Maureen Dowd from the New York Times. She wasn't invited to the barbeque..."
The "barbeque" on Thursday, Aug. 25, was the annual Lewinsky-style blowout George Bush gives for the humping, groveling media during his vacation each year -- an off-the-record affair wherein the Prince becomes "Pauper for a day" and exposes himself to the hoi polloi of the Fourth Estate.
Except Bush called it off last year, so it's really not an annual party. And the fried fish, potato salad and chocolate-chip cookies don't really qualify as a barbeque either. Some are saying it was a pool party, but nobody went swimming...
Bush's conditions should have brought all self-respecting journalists to a screeching halt up against the ethical wall. But no. To prove their allegience to Bush, reporters and photographers piled into vans and sped past Camp Casey, a site on the road leading to the ranch named after Casey Sheehan, a 24-year-old soldier slain in Iraq in April 2004. Casey's mother, Cindy, came to the Crawford ranch on Aug. 6, intent on getting Bush to explain the "noble cause" for which he keeps insisting Americans must die. It was important to Bush, who strikes out in destructive vindictiveness any time he is challenged or questioned, for the media to give Sheehan the back of their hands -- or at least their middle fingers -- as they left her in a wave of blowing dirt.
Froomkin reports that several reporters were "squeamish" about even attending the event, and especially about having to drive by the Sheehan camp. "And later," Froomkin said, "a small handful watched askance as the rest fawned over Bush, following him around in packs every time he moved."
Froomkin's shamefaced apology for the one or two, or however many of his counterparts it takes to fill up a small hand, who were uneasy about signing on to conditions demanded by the world's most insensitive and callous egomaniacial murderer, leaves reality-based folks scratching their heads. What were these few doing there in the first place? In the name of all that is ethical and professional in journalism -- what in the hell were any of them doing there in the first place?
Maybe it's me, but if sitting around a swimming pool at a barbeque where no barbeque is served while the world, ignited by lies, explodes in flames -- if having access to the man who told the lies -- does not make a card-carrying journalist at least a bit curious about something other than sports, what the twins are up to, or his summer reading list -- is reality, then I cannot get a grip on it. I cannot get a grip on the reality of reporters flocking to also attend off-the-record August dinners with the treasonous Karl Rove. Is there anything in the world of reality more totally incomprehensible, raging mad -- desperately absurd?
Unfortunately, yes. Ron Suskind, the former Wall Street Journal senior national-affairs reporter, and author of "The Price of Loyalty: George W. Bush, the White House and the Education of Paul O'Neill," penned a critical in-depth piece for the Oct. 17, 2004 New York Times Magazine, on the nuances of Bush's inability to recognize reality. Bush proudly admits he doesn't "do nuance," nor does he bother to read newspapers or watch TV, so the fate of the world rests on his uninformed, faith-based gut instinct. By his own admission, Bush just catapaults the propaganda around until some of it sticks, which then becomes reality.
A "senior adviser" to Bush explained to Suskind in the summer of 2002 that we no longer live in a reality-based community. "That's not the way the world really works anymore," the adviser said. "We're an empire now, and when we act, we create our own reality. And while you're studying that reality -- judiciously, as you will -- we'll act again, creating other new realities, which you can study too, and that's how things will sort out. We're history's actors . . . and you, all of you, will be left to just study what we do."
It's not that Bush doesn't want to face the reality of why Casey Sheehan and 1,900 others like him had to die. After sailing through five years and two stolen elections without having his feet held to the fire; after having lie after destructive lie creating domestic and foreign chaos cheered on by captive audiences, Bush isn't about to be called on the carpet by some mama just because her kid got killed in his war on terror, or regime change, or handing out God's gift of freedom, or spreading democracy, or liberation, or -- whatever. Sheehan may have him on the run, but he's the leader of what's left of the free world, and he doesn't owe anybody an explanation.
Reality? As they say down in Texas, Bush just doesn't give a rat's ass. And, from its collective shoddy performance, neither does the mainstream US media. Unfortunately, for the whole treasonous bunch, America's mothers are awake and they're on the move. Not just those whose sons and daughters were horribly slain for no good reason, but those who realize their children are still alive and are in peril, are being murdered at a clip of three a day, with no hope of survival and no way out. They realize that the game Bush is playing with their children is Iraqi Roulette. And, sooner or later...