Sunday, June 03, 2007

Kick it. Then kick it again. Kick it until it falls over.

I want to be eaten alive - Hanin Elias

If you are looking for the kind of reactionary, bloodthirsty, Phoenix program rhetoric to make you feel good about your assumption that the U.S. elite is completely fucked, I urge you to peruse Fred Hiatt's latest missive. It has everything! The dyspeptic truculence of the highly paid talk show radio host - the nonsensical centrism, here cast as splitting the difference between the double massacre of Iraqis and American soldiers and a more manageable massacfre - sort like getting your head cut off, but just a little bit. The hint that President Backbone, whose penis is a marvel of veins and marble, is once again standing succulently for the right, the just thing, the eternal cowboy boot on your eternal face - everything is here, everything crazy, everything ludicrous, everything that should be absolutely destroyed in the D.C. establishment. The enemy of mankind does not sleep. This Pinochet loving know nothing is full to the brim with him, a rentier genocidaire. If there were any justice, Hiatt would have trouble getting a job typing up the nickel raises for Burger King menus. But there is no justice at that strata - simply an orgy of self-righteousness, greed, and proxy courage that will go on and on. A great court society needs its eunuchs. A not so great one needs its Hiatts.

But the testicular tone is retracting. In Gravity's Rainbow, one of the characters, Pirate Prentice, has the peculiar talent that he can assume other people's fantasies - and so is used to experience the fantasies of a forbiddingly high up British war cabinet member. The fantasy is of a giant adenoid, invading London. There are no Pirate Prentice's left, so the giant hairy balls of the President are the fantasms that have long invested D.C. and have been unleashed upon the general population, called up by such as Hiatt and Fred Barnes. But I detect some wavering in their fantasy, some shrinkage of the testicular, some mumble in the background and noise on the wire. That is why a good stout kick is necessary. Which is what the Withdrawal Project is all about. Tell people about the Withdrawal project, think up appropriate routines for a Withdrawal show, send me any of your ideas. I am talking to people - got a suggestion today for somebody who might have grant money - and remember that there is nothing like the hot spurt of the blood of a screaming warmonger in your teeth - fee fi fo fum. I want my own private bloodbath. Here's Hanin Elias on being eaten.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

Your comment on the WarPo site -- excellent. These two newspapers (NYT, WarPo) have voluminous blood on their hands. Let's loose Hanin Elias (or her successors) on them -- not, as a prince once said, where they eat, but where they are eaten.

Anonymous said...

...and then there is the chant/taunt in the streets this summer:

"Mossad, Mossad eins zwei drei/
Bin Laden ist noch immer frei."

http://www.myspace.com/rotschild

Roger Gathmann said...

Lady Ulrike, chouette! although sechs sechs sechs is more my style - which falls in my path like a clue that is too much a clue, on my odd trip down the path of needles either to Lucifer's house or to the Wolf.

From the Holodomor to Gaza: NYT softfocuses on famine - the spirit of Walter Duranty lives!

  When Gareth Jones, a former secretary of David Lloyd George, made a walking tour in Ukrainian agricultural districts in 1933, he wrote a s...