Well, Yippee-Ki-Yay, Motherfuckers:

In the houses of every viable Democratic candidate, a cry of "Goddamnit" went up into the rafters this morning. And then a quick, ashamed recapitulation of that thought, something like, "But, of course, it's great that we captured Saddam Hussein. He was eeevil." And in the White House, George Bush masturbated furiously at the thought of swaggering into the State of the Union address in January, Hussein's head in a bag, ready to hoist it high in the air and scream in triumph before the gathered members of Congress. "Fuck with me? Fuck with my Dad? See what you get, bitch?" he'll yell as he swings the head into Hillary Clinton's lap. And Hillary, good hedging hawk that she is, will toss the head aloft where it can be batted around like a beach ball at a Jimmy Buffet concert.



So, in case you're not a sentient being on this earth, we did indeed capture Saddam Hussein alive. And, you know, shit, of course it's great when vicious, murdering tyrants get captured. Some of us way over here on the left wanted Chile's Pinochet captured years before he was. We'd still like to see Uzbekistan's torturing thugs brought into custody. Oh, but, wait, that's right. They were and are allies. The capture of Saddam has more in common with Bush I's Panamanian adventure to hunt down Manuel Noriega. Both are cases of the United States cleaning up its own feces after it took a shit on the floor of international human rights in favor of opportunism and profit and expediency. And we killed a hell of a lot of civilians to do it.



And Saddam is captured. And the United States is not one scintilla safer than it was last week, before the raid. Not one act of terrorism will be halted because of this. Any battle that was going to "take place on our soil" will still take place here. Attacks on American soldiers in Iraq will continue, as the President indicated in his "lower your expectations" speech on Sunday. In terms of anything other than militaristic pride, the capture and trial of Saddam means nothing to America.



You know what's going to happen. Stocks will rally in an orgy of celebration. The media will declare the White House chances dead for all the Democratic candidates, with special piling on of Howard Dean. And Saddam in all this? Like a character in a Paul Bowles story, Saddam will be stripped and castrated; tongue cut out, he will be forced to wear bells on his shredded garments so that he may ring his bells and dance whenever Bush pushes him out to dance. In the election, fuck the economy, fuck the war on terror, fuck the environment, just watch Saddam dance. And America will smile at the sight of Saddam dancing for them. We will be filled with national pride that we got the monster.



But questions oughta linger, like the uncomfortable thought of Saddam saying he punk'd the U.S. on the whole weapons of mass destruction thing. Or the idea that now that Saddam is gone, and the attacks continue unabated, who are we gonna blame? Or have we set Iraq on the fast track to a "democratically" elected Islamic fundamentalist government?



Or maybe just this: now that, ding, dong, the witch is dead (or captured), when can we bring the troops home?

Walking Away for the Weekend - But Ann Coulter Is Still a Cunt:

The Rude Pundit needs to purge for the weekend. The latest Halliburton thing drove him over the edge. He needs to wipe away from his brain all the images of massacred children, a pregnant Andrew Card, and George Bush's tiny little limp dick in order to function as a human being in America. So he'll return on Monday.



Until then, enjoy the mad rantings of chief cunt Ann Coulter calling Howard Dean "an insane person," and relish the delicious irony of someone as objectively nutzoid as Coulter deigning to label anyone else crazy. The Rude Pundit thinks he'll buy the Ann Coulter action figure so he can jack off on its face as it says, "Liberals hate America, they hate flag-wavers, they hate abortion opponents, they hate all religions except Islam, post 9/11. Even Islamic terrorists don't hate America like Liberals do." The Rude Pundit will smack its plastic ass and tell it, "Yeah, but you like that, don't you, bitch?"

Don't Worry - We're Not Going To Pretend To Care:

We here in the hinterlands of the "democratic" populace of the country won't notice a goddamn thing. We are blind to all things but those we are commanded by our TVs to see. We are shopping, drinking, shitting, reality show watching zombies. So don't make us pay attention to anything that might break through our deep, heartfelt apathy.



Like the decision by the Iraqi Health Ministry to stop counting civilian casualties in that country, a move that, no matter how loud the denials by the Coalition Provisional Authority, had to have the CPA imprimatur in order to take place. Remember who runs every fuckin' thing in Iraq? No governmental agent takes a piss without our okay. So that's it. It won't matter if we kill 100,000 civilians in our demented attempt to transform Iraq into a great experiment in a nation run by corporations. Fuck, it won't matter if Halliburton kills a couple of thou to maintain its contracts. We won't know. Oh, sure, whiny villagers will always assert that this toddler or that teenager was gunned down, but, c'mon, prove it. Or, even better, prove America wrong.



Like the "battle" of Samarra, where the United States allegedly killed 54 guerilla fighters. Except that's just what we claimed. Except no one could find the bodies. Except the only casualties in hospitals were civilians. What the hell happened? Does the military now clean up after itself? And if there was a body clean-up crew, was it a subsidiary of Halliburton? And how much did they overcharge the U.S. to dispose of the bullet-riddled bodies of the "guerillas"? The Rude Pundit digresses. The military said it was 54 and for most Americans that was good enough. Because thank god we're fighting an enemy that doesn't look white. Otherwise, we might give a rat's ass about their fate.



Like the Arab-American waiter who was prevented from working a function that our President attended in Baltimore. Like the 170,000 or so people from Muslim and Arab countries who were forced to register with the government, none of whom has been charged as a terrorist. Like whoever the hell is being held in Guantanamo. Like the Human Rights Watch report that says American cluster bombs have killed over 1000 civilians, although, fuck, we won't know about that anymore.



Remember: America doesn't care. Apathy is the foundation of the right-wing agenda. Apathy of the majority of the population. The blinders of religion for another big segment. And the warm, warm light of rage for the rest of us. So when the President treats our "allies" with contempt and bullying, we can sit in front of our flickering TV light, watch our newsbreaks, and then wonder if we'll be able to see Paris Hilton fuck her ex-boyfriend again on the Internet. And around the water cooler, we won't talk about how our country is a viscous miasma of hate and pettiness. We'll talk about Paris's tits. Those sweet little rich white tits at whose nipple suckles the conscience of a lost nation.

America: God, We're Such Assholes:

So here we are. America. Goddamn, motherfucking America, man. Soviets are gone. China's a thorn, but mostly complacent in search of the dollar or euro. So we're all that's left. America. The Big Kahuna. Nobody can fuck with us. And how do we handle being the world's only superpower. Through friendship, negotiation, reaching out, and kindness? Nope. We decided that we're going to be total dicks.



How else do you explain the decision by the Department of Defense to punish Russia, France, Germany, and (maybe) Canada for not supporting the war by not allowing contractors in those countries to take part in the orgy of corporate spending known as "rebuilding" Iraq? You gotta be a total insecure dick to do that, not the gorilla in the chimp cage of international relations. And, of course, as every policy decision by the Bush Administration has created lately, an outcry from different quarters of the political world is telling us how pissed off everyone is at this move. Of course, the countries involved are mightily hacked off. Even conservatives find the move "heavy-handed" and "stupid." And this closed door policy comes at a time when the folksy but evil James Baker is heading off to Europe to see if these same countries, these same fucking countries, will forgive the debts of Iraq. This isn't a foreign policy. It's a bunch of shit made up on the fly. As Josh Marshall points out, they have no idea what they're doing.



Said conservatives at The Weekly Standard revealed some cute blind optimism when they said that they "suspect" that Bush would overrule the Pentagon. But, vile as Bill Kristol and Bob Kegan are, they didn't realize that the President is a total smirking cock. See, he pronounced today that he stands by the decision, and, unlike that deviant fuck Paul Wolfowitz, who tried to finesse and lie about this whole thing by saying some babbling bullshit about "national security" concerns as to why the Big Four were excluded, Bush didn't even try to hide his contempt, saying, "It's very simple: Our people risked their lives; friendly coalition folks risked their lives. And, therefore, the contracting is going to reflect that. And that's what the U.S. taxpayers expect," with nary a poll of U.S. taxpayers in sight. See, that's the way assholes work, whether on the street or in the White House. An asshole says he's gonna do it his way and if you don't wanna do it his way, you go fuck yourself. And if you're a real asshole, and someone threatens you, you usually say something like, "Bring it on." Or, in this case, when asked about international trade law being violated by this move, Bush responded, "International law? I better call my lawyer."



When did we become such a nation of assholes? Led by the kind of frat boy asshole failure braggart jerk-off whose ass we always wanted to kick or see kicked out in the playground or behind the bar? Instead, we allow, without so much as a whimper, our "elected" leaders to represent us by behaving like bullies. Our foreign policy is all about pimp-slapping other countries. "France, bitch, you best bring in the benjamins," we say, slamming France against a wall and holding it by its neck as we slap its face back and forth. "That's right, bitch. You best listen to me. Now, get out there and get on your knees and work those froggy lips."



Bush is the asshole guy who shows up at the club in his Ferrari, decked out in the Armani, so much bling weighing down his neck, packing heat. So why does an asshole male drive a hot sports car or wear expensive clothes or carry a gun? It's because he knows that inside his pants is a tiny little dick and he's gonna lash out at the world 'cause he so hates himself for his little dick.

Reminder:

Today - Hear the Rude Pundit speak the rudeness on Radio Left at 5 p.m. EST.

And come back this afternoon for today's post: America - God, We're Such Assholes.

America: Fuck With Us and We'll Kill Your Kids:

Oh, the suffering of children - so sweet, so innocent. Always the moral barometer of a nation's actions. We got the naked Vietnamese girl, screaming, having torn her napalm-burnt clothes off her because, well, shit, napalm fucking hurts. Three year-old John-John saluting his dad's coffin as it passed him by. Starving children in whatever country is starving this week. Children, man. Always bearing the burdens of the moral failings of we grown-ups. We beat 'em, starve 'em, burn 'em, put 'em in closets for months on end. How a badly person or a nation treats its own or other kids says a lot about how fucked up that person or nation is. And all indications right now are that America's pretty fucked up.



So what the hell is going on in Afganistan? It's not bad enough that the U.S. military, realizing that, holy shit, there really is still a war going on in Afghanistan, bombed some shithole village in a misguided effort to find a "terrorist" who had long left and in the effort, offed 9 playing kids. But then, just to show that if you fuck-up once, you may as well fuck-up twice, in a wonderful "oops, I did it again" moment, we just killed another six kids, sleeping ones this time, in another shithole village. Now, the Rude Pundit may be really, really off base here, but don't we, America, the Godzilla in the Tokyo of global realpolitick, brag about our military prowess? That we have satellite and laser guided missles that can pinpoint the stinking rectum of an enemy soldier and shove that warhead up that rectum with all the precision of an elephant fucking an ant? Isn't that our hype? And as Andrew Card declares that our intelligence failures leading up to the war are a "moot point," doesn't the wholesale murder of fifteen kids seem to also point to an intelligence breakdown of increasingly distressing proportions? There's fifteen kids that'll never go to school, never get to fall in love, never get to be cool.



Or, and here's the deal, maybe the military and the government don't fucking care. We're America, goddamnit. With us or against us, motherfuckers. You don't support our war? Fuck you, then; your country doesn't get to dine on the buffet of the corpse of Iraq. (More on this tomorrow.) Sure, we apologize for the deaths - sort of like a big "D'oh" in the face of grieving parents and others. But, really, and, c'mon, we don't care. On CNN this morning, the United States' killing of six kids was a story discussed after Michael Jackson, after the latest missing hot college girl.



Well, maybe there has been an improvement, though. Used to be the government just covered up this kind of devastation in hopes that no one would find out. Like My Lai in Vietnam. But, as the bare blip on the radar of the Toledo Blade's recent series on another massacre in that war, we've just stopped caring.

(Tip of the blog to Rude Two for help with today's entry.)

Buzzflash Clickers:

Scroll down for the Andrew Card entry. But enjoy all the rudeness.



Special Rude Pundit Announcement:

Hear the Rude Pundit speak. On Thursday, December 11 at 5 p.m. Eastern, the Rude Pundit will appear on the internet radio program Conversations at Radio Left. He will be spreading the rudeness for a full hour. (And, yeah, the Rude Pundit is aware that chances are the audience is about, oh, let's be optimistic here, twenty, but any chance to make the world a ruder place is a well worth taking.)

Sham Turkey, Sham Policies:

Of course the turkey was a fake. Unless they imported Martha fucking Stewart over to Iraq (and who knows what Karl Rove would do for a photo op), there was no way they were going to get such turkey perfection in a military base in the middle of a war. Or at least there's no reason they should. But fake turkeys look better than steam plates, right? And therein lies the reality of the Bush administrations "policies."



Take, and why not, the Medicare "reform" act. Here's Bush signing the bill into law, surrounded by the usual group of white guys in dark suits, as well as prop old people who must have been promised more gruel and an extra change of bedsheets that night by the nursing home staff in order to stand there and act like the changes to Medicare will actually do them any good. Seniors mostly think it's bullshit, and unless someone wants to tell Grandpa that he's wrong and needs to be taken care of and shut the fuck up, Grandpa, or we won't change your soiled diapers, then maybe Congress oughta pay attention to more than just the leadership of the AARP. And, since no one was given a chance to read the bill before it was passed, nice little things keep popping up, like the fact that seniors can't get private insurance to cover their share of prescriptions should they opt for the government's "program." But that's okay - because Bush could actually say with a straight face that this bill, which was designed behind closed doors by rich Republicans and lobbyists from the drug industry, "happened because of grassroots work. A lot of our fellow citizens took it upon themselves to agitate for change, to lobby on behalf of what's right." Man, sometimes the bullshit is so thick you can't see the turkey for the platter. Even conservatives, real conservatives, the evil fuckers who want to shrink government to nothing, hate this bill because of how much it costs.



But now Bush can ride everywhere and declare he kept his promise on prescription drugs. It's like hoisting a fake turkey for the cameras. All that matters is the image and the illusion. Who gives a shit that the soldiers actually ate rations from a bunch of tin steam plates? Who cares that Medicare is reformed in name only? Compassion is a coat, like a fighter pilot uniform, that you can put on for the cameras and take off when it matters.

Because Sometimes Bad Things Do Happen To Assholes:

Rep. "Speedy" Bill Janklow, Republican from South Dakota, was found guilty of manslaughter a little while ago. Janklow, a former governor and one of the tree killers who co-sponsored the "Healthy Forests" initiative that's guaranteed to raise tons of timber money for the Bush campaign, will probably avoid jail time for his little car accident that killed a person and that he blamed on his diabetes, but, still, it's fun to think about his 240 pound ass bent over a prison bunk while his cell mate fucks him from behind, saying, "How do you like that insulin injection?"

John Kerry - Calling a Fuck-up a Fuck-up:

So there's John Kerry, being interviewed by Rolling Stone magazine, and the interview covers the basic subjects: Iraq, Afghanistan, Schwarzenegger. Then Will Dana asks about Howard Dean's anti-war stance, and, in response, Kerry says he expected Dean to be "against everything," but that he didn't "expect George Bush to fuck it up as badly as he did". And the interview goes on. Of course, the White House has to come out on the talk shows, saying that Kerry should apologize. Attack dog Andrew Card said that the remark was "beneath John Kerry," forgetting that Time magazine had previously reported that President Bush said, "Fuck Saddam" in reference to Hussein last year. Which then begs the question of what Kerry should apologize for? For the word or the sentiment?



Because, really, and even if you supported this whole debacle in Iraq, George Bush has pretty much fucked it up. More soldiers dying? That's a fuck-up. Increased attacks expected? That'd be a fuck-up. Housing crisis? Fuck-up. Creation of Israel-like blockaded towns? Yup, you guessed it - fuck-up. It's all fucked up. By any objective measure, it's fucked-up. By any kind of goals-related outcome, unless one is the increasingly frantically bipolar Donald Rumsfeld or the increasingly demonstratively embodiment of evil that is Dick Cheney, one has to see that, well, shit, George Bush fucked it up. Badly. Give props to our homey, John Kerry, for speaking it like it is. (And, frankly, it's a far less cynical play to the youth vote than, say, Howard Dean's declaration that Wyclef Jean is his favorite musician.)



But Card actually said something far more sinister than any declaration of high-falutin' propriety at vulgar language. The White House Chief of Staff, in a move that would make Soviet-era revisionists proud, declared that lingering questions about faulty intelligence are a "moot point." In other words, hey, America, you're fucked and we think you're too fucking stupid to care why. Let's put it this way: say that Andrew Card was a whore (an actual one - the kind that gets fucked in the ass for money and will suck a dick for . . . oh, wait, okay, he already does that. Anyways) and that somewhere along the long hard slog of a whore-road, he gets knocked up (he's a female whore). And Whore Andy wants to keep the baby because she needs something to giver her life meaning. Now, someone, somewhere is going to pay for it. But Whore Andy can't remember which john might have done it - there's been too many. She can easily eliminate all the hand jobs, blow jobs, and most of the anal. But that still leaves a good number. Whore Andy can declare that it's a "moot point" who fucked her because, you know, someone, somewhere is going to pay for the baby. And, really, who gives a shit who that is? The money could come from he government, from an old boyfriend, or from some johns she rolls after knocking them out or slicing their throats.



A moot point? What Andrew Card means is: "Okay, okay, we fucked up." It's as much a confession as you're gonna find these days. Only the guilty want the truth squashed and silenced. "A moot point" is a worse obscenity than anything that comes out of John Kerry's mouth.



So if anyone criticizes Kerry for his language, if the O'Reillys, Hannities, and Scarboroughs wanna make an issue out of it, Kerry should just say, "Go fuck yourselves."

Only 18 Shopping Days Left, But Only One More Day For This:

What could be a better gift than Ann Coulter's "book" that she "wrote" with her own "brain"? Why, that's an easy one. Autographed Treason. That's right. The fine art of cuntistry emblazoned with the shaky script of Ann Coulter, where you can see in her loops and dots all the rage, hate, and Joe McCarthy-fucking desire. Ya better act fast, though. Today is the last day to get it delivered by Christmas. And then you can burn it. Something I'm sure Ann Coulter would find ironically gratifying.



Special Rude Pundit Announcement:

Hear the Rude Pundit speak. On Thursday, December 11 at 5 p.m. Eastern, the Rude Pundit will appear on the internet radio program Conversations at Radio Left. He will be spreading the rudeness for a full hour. (And, yeah, the Rude Pundit is aware that chances are the audience is about, oh, let's be optimistic here, twenty, but any chance to make the world a ruder place is a well worth taking.)

Why Rush Limbaugh Should Be Force-Fed His Own Liposuctioned Fat:

Okay, the Rude Pundit has said it before, and it bears saying again: what happens to celebrities has little or nothing to do with the day-to-day lives of Americans. It doesn't matter to the general public if Michael Jackson is forcing cancer-ridden children to anally rape Bubbles the Chimp on the back of giraffe. And Paris Hilton's "pain" is not ours. It doesn't fucking matter.



Unless it does. Unless the dirty deeds of the rich and famous reveal something larger. Like, say, Rush Limbaugh's drug addiction. While Limbaugh thrashes and burns on the air like Captain Queeg on the witness stand, the noose is tightening around his fleshy, fat-depleted neck. His doctors' offices are being raided for records showing that Limbaugh "doctor-shopped," that is, got prescriptions from multiple doctors to feed his voracious appetite for hillbilly heroin. And Limbaugh has his lawyer, Roy Black, out making the rounds of the talk shows, defending the thousands and thousands of illegal pills Limbaugh ingested, saying that the prosecutors are looking to "publicly embarass" Limbaugh. "Why is Rush Limbaugh the only person treated like this in America?" said Black , apparently unaware that the answer to that question is: "Because he's rich and white - otherwise his ass would already be behind bars for possession with intent."



Ultimately, though, the Rush Limbaugh case, for all the delightful things we can say about that fat fuck finally getting his comeuppance, demonstrates something about the right in this country. So many who would proclaim righteousness and rightness are rotten at their core. They are diseased. They are the syphilitic whores of political discourse - you pick one up because she looks good, but, fuck, the diseases you get after the fucking.



Rush will flail about until he can flail no more, when he's finally, completely, shat-upon dead as a voice. But, like capturing the local drug lord, nothing will stop until you stop the demand.

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A Few More Words From the Clambering Masses:

The Rude Pundit finds it very interesting how desperately people in America want a voice. Much like the Rude Pundit himself, Americans want someone, anyone, to listen to them. You wanna know why there's such anger in this country? Because everyone is beginning to understand that they've be punk'd. That the lies have gotten so blatant that Americans are looking up from their televisions and saying, "Whoa, just a fuckin' second here. If there's such a great goddamn recovery going on in this country, where's my job? Oh, that's right, it's in the 'service' industry, which means I can temp as a janitor and my wife can temp as a Motel 6 maid." They're looking around at their kids and sayin', "You mean every fuckin' penny of this war is going to be paid for by my kids? Every fuckin' penny of this lameass prescription drug benefit that's going to the drug makers is gonna be taken out of the college funding for my kids? Christ, who's gonna keep me in Depends when I'm old and shitting myself like Paul Wolfowitz when he was in the Baghdad hotel that was bombed?"



There's a lot of people out there (and unlike that piece of fox shit Bill O'Reilly, who constantly talks about how he understands "the folks" in this country, the Rude Pundit actually lives outside of a TV or radio studio) who are realizing that no one of any power hears them. They realize they have no access to those in power. They have been sold a bill of goods on war, democracy, and morality by people whose ethical standards are as extreme as John Gotti in his enemy-whacking prime.



People are lookin' around and trying to make someone listen, like C.A.G., who wrote to the Rude Pundit:

"I turned 46 today and I haven't been this angry in my life...I have two sons, a loving husband of 26 years, a small business of 15 years....life has been good....until now.....one son is 15 and is extremely interested/fearful/angry with the WAR! What does the future hold for him? What does a parent do when the entire family is opposed to this fiasco and everything is at stake.....Draft dodger? How's that fit? Want that title for life...okay...conscientious objector.....better? I am beside myself with anger and the fact that these choices are a real issue in our lives....this administration has to go.....can one half of the US really be as STUPID as I fear they are? I beg the Democratic candidates to ask themselves...is this war worth your childrens lives...honestly...is it? If that question can loom in the forefront of their consciousness then perhaps they will fight with the passion they need to defeat this dishonest bunch of opportunists....imagine sending your loved one off to fight a war for the Cheney/Bush portfolio....we've lost too many loved ones already..."



Or like Lance, who said that any Democrat who calls Bush "President" should have to "dine on conservaskank Ann Coulter's edible underpants."



The Rude Pundit says to keep talking, keep the anger growing, foster it like the begining flames of a fire. When it begins to scorch, when things begin to be consumed by the fire, then the real voice of the people will be heard.



Oh, and to JBS, who has the sad, sad position of living in Tom DeLay's district (does the Hammer keep a houseboat there so he never has to filthy his feet with the dirt of Sugarland, TX?), no, the Rude Pundit is not Helen Thomas, although Helen Thomas is a megababe in her eighties and the Rude Pundit would gladly remove her diaper to have a nooner with her while Walter Cronkite masturbated in the corner of the room.



Tomorrow: The Rude Pundit's easy solution to the rage in Congress, and it doesn't involve shitcanning the whole idea of representative democracy and starting from scratch.

The Rabble Speaks - More Advice to Democrats:

The Rude Pundit opened up the floor to additional suggestions for ways the Democrats can act as if they have the balls to win an election. Herewith, for good or ill, are some of the best from the many responses:



A commercial idea from GD (which, unfortunately, does not stand for "Goddamn"):

This ad assumes there will be a major photo op of the signing of the medicare bill with Bush, Delay, Frist, et al...

Ad starts with a blank black background with some ominous symphony music playing, then the following words come up in bold white letters:

"Democratcs have said for years that Republicans would sell-out their mothers for a few dollars in tax breaks."

"Now, we have proof..."

CUT TO VIDEO OF MEDICARE SIGNING CEREMONY.

Cut back to black background.

"Vote Democrat and Save Your Mothers from a life of elderly poverty."



In a more conventional vein, Myk offers more commercial subjects and scripts:

"A variation [on the Bush/aircraft carrier commercial from RP 11/25] that would work would include how much taxpayer money for the war ended up in the pockets of his campaign contributors.

Or the even simpler one:

George Bush likes to dress up like a pilot now....

But when he was in the Air National Guard, he deserted and didn't bother to finish his service.

And this is the guy who questions OTHER people's patriotism?

AND

Play clip of his speech where he mentions sacrifice.

"We sacrifice our tax dollars" (show clip of someone writing a check)

"We sacrifice our sons and daughters" (clip of soldiers dragging a fallen comrade out of battle)

"We even sacrifice the respect of our allies around the world." (clips of largest demonstrations in history all over the world)

"What does George Bush ask his rich friends to sacrifice?"(clip of him selling repeal of inheritance tax)

"He cut their taxes." (clip of Cheney laughing)

"He gave them no bid contracts in Iraq worth billions of tax dollars."

"Maybe he thinks sacrifice is only for people who have to work for living."



[The Rude Pundit thinks the image of a laughing Dick Cheney would frighten the children into voting Democrat for life.]



Encouraging rudeness from Brendan S. as "he" writes,

"I have always been fond of the unfounded accusation. The same way the republicans threw any sexual harassment suit at Clinton, so should the left throw ANYTHING at the Republicans. We could enlist Larry Flynt (he helped out last time, by outing a number of unfaithful husbands in the senate and house). Even if it has to be planted: Arlen Specter or Orrin Hatch should have child porn planted on their computers; child prostitutes from thailand should be paid off to destroy their names. A photo of Dennis Hastert or Tom Delay with his dick in a 16 year old boy's ass."



No real advice, but the Rude Pundit giggled like a school girl getting her first finger fucking at Steve L.'s rant:

"I cannot believe how incredibly sorry and scummy the Republicans are. I mean rock-hard sorry scum. Dehydrated-rock-hard sorry scum. Scum so sorry that it goes way beyond the sorry scum we know into a whole different dimension of sorry scum. They are trans-sorry, scum. Meta-sorry scum. Sorry scum collapsed on itself so far that even the neutrons have collapsed. Sorry scum gotten so dense that no intellect and decency can escape. Singularity sorry scum. Blazing hot mid-day sun on Mercury sorry scum. They emit more sorry scum in one second than our entire galaxy emits in a year. Quasar sorry scum. They are disgustingly sorry scum-sucking trolls. Nothing in our universe can really be this sorry. Perhaps this is some primordial fragment from the original big bang of sorry scum. Some pure essence of a sorry scum so uncontaminated by anything else as to be beyond the laws of physics that we know. They are the epiphany of sorry scum to me. Fuck the sorry scum Republicans!"



More amazing advice from the blog-reading public tomorrow. And keep the commercial ideas coming. Someone's gotta drag democracy back into this country. It sure as shit ain't gonna be the O'Reillys or Limbaughs or Coulters of the world. It may as well be your Rude Pundit.

And Then There Was the Day We Beheld the Turkey:

By now we've all seen the pictures of our Fearless Leader holding the big fucking platter of Thankgiving delight in the middle of the troops in Baghdad. Goddamn, that was a beautiful fucking bird, a beautiful fucking platter - all arranged with grapes and vegetables and motherfucking garnish, for chrissake. Man, you'd think we didn't have tens of thousands of American soldiers in the middle of a desert, wondering which one of them is going to be shot, blown up, or knifed. You'd think, what with the big grin, the tears (yes, tears) of our President that everything is so hunky-fucking-dory that we don't have to worry our pretty little heads here at home. The President's got big shoulders, big arms to carry that big fucking American-looking platter - he can bear all our pain.



Except, of course, it's never that easy. Apparently, despite the best lies available from house negro Condi Rice, when it was first suggested by Andrew Card to Bush that he go to Baghdad, his reaction was something not unakin to, "Whatchoo talkin' 'bout, Andy?" At least that's the spin - that he had security concerns. Let's instead put it this way: our pussy president, who obviously has many people shopping the Army-Navy store for clothes in his size, is told in no uncertain terms by Karl Rove, "Look, you little worm-man, we're not losing the next fucking election. We already blew the aircraft carrier photo op. Get your skinny drunk ass on the plane so we can get pics of you giving the love to the real soldiers." The President, quivering with fear, having shit himself twice at the idea of actually going somewhere where the people who have contact with him have not given him money, has Andrew Card yank off his boxers where he's dropped a load on the Presidential seal, makes Condi wipe his ass, puts on a fresh pair, and agrees to go, lip shaking, on the verge of tears, tears that Rove tells him to hold the fuck in until he's in front of the military men so he can look like a man's man, letting a tear out that the press can jump on for proof Bush has a soul.



And let's be clear here: Bush no more "visited Iraq" than the prisoners at Guantanamo are vacationing in Cuba. He went from bubble to bubble to bubble. Christ, did they even let him touch the ground?



Goddamn, that was a great fucking platter of food. Goddamn, it was so perfect you'd expect the corpse of Norman Rockwell to walk in and rip Bush's hands off so that he may never touch such American perfection again.



Tomorrow: some of your help-the-Democrats responses from this past weekend. Yep, some of them have been deemed worthy to publish by the Rude Pundit.

Eat a Turkey For Jesus, Contribute Advice To the Democrats:

The Rude Pundit is taking the weekend off. He craves the triptophan. He wants to sleep gently in a triptophan-induced coma and wake up in a world where there's no Rumsfelding, no Bush, no nothing, but sweet, sweet opiates like triptophan. And, well, Vicodin. Back on Monday. Meanwhile, read below to try to help the wayward children of the Democratic party.

Advice To the Democrats From the Rude Pundit:



If you’re in a street fight and you are playing by the Marquis of Queensbury rules, you shouldn’t be surprised if your opponent kicks you in the nuts and then beats the shit out of you while you’re down on the ground, punching you in the throat, gouging your eyes, smacking you with everything that he can get his hands on, really just all the shit that goes on when you’re in a fight. In short, if you’re gonna bother fighting, fight to win, to be the one who walks away. The guy on the ground is only fit to be pissed and spit on by the gathered crowd.



See, Republicans understand this. They know that you don’t bring a knife to a gun fight. They understood this when they went after Bill Clinton. They threw everything they possibly could at him, ignoring problems like, say, terrorism, in their blood lust to not only destroy Clinton's presidency, not only to bring virtually every cabinet office to a grinding halt, but to change the discourse about Clinton: he's the guy who got an Oval Office hummer, not the guy who, for good or ill, led the country into years of prosperity and job growth, and myriad other accomplishments. You've got to remember that for every James Carville on the Democrats' side, the Republicans have ten Lee Atwaters or Karl Roves.



And now the Republicans are continuing these vicious alley fight tactics. Witness the House of Representatives vote on Medicare "reform." The Democrats believed that the Republicans would abide by tradition, like the Queensbury rule that says, "The rounds [are] to be of three minutes duration and one minute time between rounds," and that the majority would give the traditional 17 minutes or so for a vote. Nope. Instead, the evil Tom DeLay, the corpulent Dennis Hastert, and others conspired to leave the voting open until the Republicans had enough votes to win, twisting arms, threatening wives, sending goons out to place guns at the heads of the baby daughters of Republican reps who would not toe the party line. The Democrats were incensed. How dare the rules be so stretched? How dare tradition be set aside? But that's the wrong thinking. That's the kind of thinking that gets you shanked in the ribs. And that's what's happened, as the Senate passed the Medicare "reform" bill today. There you go. Now the President can campaign on a lame ass prescription drug benefit, bringing out the still breathing corpses of elderly people who got extra thorazine to parade in front of the cameras. Bill Frist may as well have been standing over the curled-into-a-fetal-position still warm corpse of Tom Daschle, wiping his shiv on his pants and cackling madly as he disappered into the White House.



The advice to Democrats is this: the rules are that there are no rules. When you have a President and opposition party that is willing to destroy people like Max Cleland, willing to question your patriotism because you think the war in Iraq is a bad idea, willing to degrade you and lie about you and use proxies to do their dirty work, you are not dealing with an opponent who will give a rat's ass if you say that he is breaking the rules. You have an opponent who will say that your opposition to Medicare "reform" means you want to dump seniors in an alley and watch them slowly die, who says that your opposition to the energy bill, loaded with pork for energy corporations, will lead to a long, cold, dark winter, who says that your opposition to the war means that you want Saddam Hussein to come to this country and rape your children while you sit with a ball gag and beaten and bruised face to watch the maiming and slaughter of them. They will stop at nothing to demonize you, Democrats, and they will smile at you and call you friend even as they slice off your nuts.



It's time to not question all the hate against Republicans that's going around. Embrace that anger. Channel it into a real opposition. Republicans will suckle at the teat of Richard Mellon Scaife-funded foundations until they are engorged to bursting with filthy fascist lucre, but they bleat like castrated lambs when George Soros donates money to MoveOn.org. You'll want to talk about the economy and they'll say you want gay marriage so who cares what your economic policies are. So you can't win. Instead, degrade them. Make them seem like the corporate lackeys and hate mongers that they are.



You want a commercial? Here it is, free of charge, from the Rude Pundit: Circus-like music plays as we see scenes of George W. Bush landing on that aircraft carrier. Then a graphic: "Number of WMDs found in Iraq: 0." Show W. in front of the "Mission Accomplished" Banner. Graphic: "Number of Americans killed in Iraq since George W. Bush landed here: X" (with X=to whatever the number is). Show W. on the deck of the ship, in his flight suit, looking all goofy and shit. Graphic: "Cost of playing soldier: Priceless." Then whoever for President. Run the ad so many times that no matter what, when the electorate sees Bush, all it thinks about is him in that goddamn flight suit, with circus music behind him.



So to all viable candidates, Dean, Clark, Gephardt, Edwards, Kerry: fuck the Republicans up. Badly. And if anyone tells you to play nice, to abide by the rules of conflict, you kick them in the nuts and tell them to go fuck themselves. You have the backing of many, like Paul Krugman here.



And, because so much is at stake, the Rude Pundit is opening this up. If you have any other rude advice for Democrats, send it to rudepundit@yahoo.com. The rudest and best will be posted. If you're all lame, he won't post anything but himself.

Why Ann Coulter Is Still a Cunt, Part 6:

Because at the end of her recent "column" (and that would be assuming a lot, since an editorial column is, right or wrong, usually a well-reasoned, rational attempt at some kind of point of view, not simply the mad rantings of someone who, by all rights, should be getting sodomized regularly by the underpaid orderlies at a mental ward) Coulter calls for violence against the Democrats. Yep, that's right kids. This is after a long, fart-filled shit of a column where she reduces every Democratic candidate for President to his or her grotesque caricature, including a section we'll just call "Fun With Jews."



In this part, Coulter cites the ways that several candidates assert Jewish street cred: "There's Joe Lieberman: Always Jewish. Wesley Clark: Found Out His Father Was Jewish in College. John Kerry: Jewish Since He Began Presidential Fund-Raising. Howard Dean: Married to a Jew. Al Sharpton: Circumcised." Now, leaving out the obvious question of why skinny white Ann Coulter is thinking about the shape of Al Sharpton's black cock, one has to ask if she (or any conservative columnist, for that matter) would ever make a list of Republicans and cite how they scramble to out-Christian each other to the point where you think they wanna take the nails out of Jesus and lick his wounds. One might want to ask that, but, then again, one would have to be dealing with a sane person, not a woman who is so batshit out of her mind and full of said batshit that she lumps Israel-loving Lieberman in with those who want "to disguise the fact that the Democrats would allow the state of Israel to perish as Palestinian suicide bombers slaughter Jewish women and children." 'Cause, you know, you always want Ann Coulter on your side to give your movement credibility.



Which brings us to the last line that this odious whore writes: "If the Democrats start extolling you – get a gun." The assumption here, of course, is that it's okay to kill Democrats (which is just logical in Coulterworld, since Treason was the title of her last "book," and it's a crime punishable by death in America). So, like, if someone, say, like, drags Coulter by her blonde roots out into an alley and puts three bullets in the back of her skull, that'd be just jim-fucking-dandy and hunky-goddamn-dory by the parameters she has set. And while blood soaks her designer clothes, the gunperson can just look at Coulter and say, "Oh, I'm sorry, was that whole killing thing a joke?"