peter beinart speaks

Dear sir,

Peter Beinart, nude model, here.

Since I have been making some very high energy adult entertainment on location (let me hint to my fans that, for the first time, I play CHIEF STUD – that’s right, the poolboy roles that graced such films as Operation Free Lickin’ and My Master, My Decider, are now a thing of the past – and let me also say that I have learned from my mistakes in those roles – for instance, the premature problem I had in Operation Free Lickin’ is, I admit, an embarrassment, and I apologize to my faithful viewers) – but anyway, to veer this sentence back to the straight and narrow, due to this schedule I was not aware of the many unfair hits yours truly was taking from various objectively terrorist sympathizing media persons. Apparently my factotum, who I left in D.C., signed a contract for me (aka him) to appear in Time Magazine. On the face of it, writing a column for Time seems just the opposite of what, as you know, I vowed to do last year, viz., leaving punditry for nude modeling. But, as with any vow, there is a time clause – after all, my booboo about Iraq doesn’t excuse me from battling Islamofascism wherever it rears its ugly head. I was, I admit, surprised by the Time announcement. However, after a long conference call with my fac (which was interrupted by my director’s need to have me stiffen my resolve for a scene I was playing with my co-star, Cruella, a charming Southern girl), I decided to see how this Time magazine gig works out.

As this was playing out, I glanced through the LA Times, looking for my friend Jon’s fabulous reflections. And boy, was I rewarded! He is truly sticking it to the doves today! Going through the pitiful records of one of the appeasers who have so damaged the dear, dear Democratic party, Jonathan Schell, he produces one of the great paragraphs of our time, a time crying out for the lucidity of a Harry Truman as the long long long long war continues to threaten all freedom loving people:

“Or go back to the last war we fought with Iraq. Schell insisted that we could force Iraq to leave Kuwait with sanctions alone, rather than by using military force. But the years that followed that war made it clear just how impotent that tool was. Saddam Hussein endured more than a decade of sanctions rather than give up a weapons of mass destruction program that turned out to be nonexistent. If sanctions weren't enough to make him surrender his imaginary weapons, I think we can safely say they wouldn't have been enough to make him surrender a prized, oil-rich conquest.”

Sometimes, the doves – who I give every credit to for their intentions – obscure the important issue. The most important issue of our time was simply this: Hussein would not surrender his imaginary weapons! An America that is threatened by imaginary weapons is an America that can never be as strong, as erect, as lubricated as the America I see in my dreams. In the future, we cannot allow the stockpiling of imaginary weapons – this is something we can all agree on, whether we are Joe Lieberman in the center or Hilary Clinton on the far appeasement left.

However, Jon misses something essential, here: where are OUR imaginary weapons? Without imaginary weapons, the world will think, basically, that Uncle Sam is the Bend Over Kid (fans will recall my scene on the hood of that vintage Mustang in the film of the same name – and no, to answer the query from S.T. in Seattle, augmentation, as dear Condi would put it, was not involved).

We now have a chance to catch up in the imaginary weapons department, and this will be a test – a test of the resolve of the Democratic Party. For if we cannot build the imaginary weapons of tomorrow, that party, sadly, will show itself mired in its McGovernist yesterdays.

I remain, strong in resolve
Peter Beinart
Nude Model


I wanted to make a comment about liberal hawks staring into the abyss of wingnuttery, seeing the howling emptiness of it and seeing that as good, but I kept thinking "butt crack". Not an abyss per se, and certainly not in keeping with their grandiose dreams, but apposite nevertheless.
T. V. said…
I'm sitting with my laptop and coffee at a yuppie coffeeshop, prevented from productive work by a loud, loud, hypersmiling and cologne-reeking conversation by two Christianists sitting two feet away which has so far covered the discipline required for Division I sports, the misunderstood Iraq war, numerous finance management tips, the recent 25 family growth of their churchychurch, how to avoid depressive thoughts by THINKING ABOUT THE LORD, and the smiling nuances of grieving for someone when they die, a little, despite knowing they are WITH CHRIST. So I broke my pledge to avoid weblogging today & here I am. And I smiled when I saw the signature of Brother Rail Gun up there, and when I clicked on his profile I laughed out loud right here in front of Christ and everybody, enough even to momentarily interrupt the churchly discussion. And now I am writing this in revenge on my nonbrethren, what with them having just retired, calling each other "dude."

You see a lot of these guys grinning down there in the buttcrack abyss along with Peter Beinart & fucking Friederich Nietzsche. FYI.

Okay then.
roger said…
But TV, what were those financial tips?...
Actually, when I hear people talk about Iraq in any way, even if pro-war, I feel related to them. I don't understand the silence about the war - that I don't understand more than anything.
T. V. said…
They lowered their voices when they got to the money talk, Roger, just enough that I couldn't catch the details. You see why I was so frustrated! It was the only part of the encounter that might have been edifying.