I’ve run out of even slightly poetic ways to say this
Fuck you, John Kerry.
Sen. Kerry puzzled over the apparent lack of interest by Americans in the Iraq war and the near silence in the U.S. mass media about the so-called Downing Street Memo.
That leaked secret document, the minutes of a 2002 cabinet meeting of British Prime Minister Tony Blair, says bluntly that Mr. Bush had decided to attack Iraq long before going to Congress with the matter, and that “intelligence was being fixed around the policy.”
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Ok, never mind that those of us who were listening knew that was true before you voted for the war, you opportunistic twat, thus giving Bush the big stick and losing yourself the election. But Mr. Kerry further goes on to say:
“When I go back (to Washington) on Monday, I am going to raise the issue,” he said of the memo, which has not been disputed by either the British or American governments. “I think it’s a stunning, unbelievably simple and understandable statement of the truth and a profoundly important document that raises stunning issues here at home.”
I have a new vision for what is going to happen to me if, when I die, I go to one of those ironic departments of hell. You will recall that my previous conviction held that it would involve having to choose one of two rooms to go into, and only one. One of the rooms to contain Virgina Madsen, the other Anne Hathaway.
But let’s face it, whichever one of those I choose, I’d probably wind up pretty happy. No, this is a more insidious idea. If, when I die, I go to one of those ironic departments of hell, they’re probably going to make me choose between another two rooms. In one, an endless loop of Star Wars Episodes One and Three. In the other, a neverending, continuous John Kerry speech.
Excuse me, I feel the need to rush to a church and get some Rosary beads now…
