Commenter “Harwell” at Tbogg’s establishment brought out this
flag-wrapped Precious Moments figurine from Grandma Lileks’ closet of
Wartime Nostalgia:
“Can you imagine the parties in Baghdad this week? Hospitals had best make a rubber stamp that says GEORGE, because nine months from now they’re going to use it on every other birth certificate.”Here’s a link to Nostradamus’ original post, in case you’d like to savor the bouquet of vintage chickenhawk triumphalism, complete with tumescent references to Saddam statues blindfolded by Old Glory, and fist-pumping amens to the spitting cobra-like expectorations that are (were) Donald Rumsfeld:
“You can just imagine what some of the reporters say to one another as they leave the briefing:Nowadays, of course, if Rumsfeld is doing any of the above, it’s on spec, and I have a feeling he hands out asses and cleans clocks the way the pool boy dispenses towels and tidies up the cabanas at the day spa in Calabasas: with deference, alacrity, and the desperate, fingers-crossed hope of a big tip.
I say, what’s that in your hands, there? That pink thing?
Oh, this? It’s my ass. Rumsfeld handed it to me. And I see you have a nice clock there – brand new?
No, it’s quite old, but Rumsfeld cleaned it. Free of charge.”
Of course, he forgot that the children will be named “Death to” George.
I wonder if any of Charlie’s boys would be interested in some Pets.com stock?
Won’t the children be named, “Bomb 1,” “Bomb 2,” etc? Talk about bouncing bundles of C4 joy!
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