Bush Jumpstarts Alternative Energy Movement
With Hot Air Demonstration
February 2, 2006
By Daniel Patrick Welch
When Gore Vidal endorsed last night's demonstrations against Bush's
ridiculous I-am-the-state theatrical stunt, he added the pithy comment:
"Go back to Crawford ... We'll help raise the money for a library,
and you'll never even ever have to read a book."
As always, Vidal has perfectly framed the argument for resistance
to this anti-intellectual, anti-science, anti-thought, anti-agenda.
And while the networks and pundits and media shills gawk and preen
and profit off the spectacle of this horrific failure, this puppet
plutocrat who brings nothing to the table except for his legendary
ability to drink everyone under it, this as-yet-unindicted war criminal
- we must make our own noise, in the name of the un-numbered and
unidentified dead whose corpses pave the way to Heaven for Bush
and his psychopathic band of theocrats.
For as hard as it is to say, Bush is beside the point. As powerful
as he is despised, he still has the awesome capability to destroy
and an unquenched thirst for dominion. But while Bush may be a laughable
idiot, his rise to "inherent authority" could not happen
without the complicity of what Irish revolutionaries of yore referred
to as "traitors and slaves." Every War Party needs fellow travelers,
and Bush and his coterie have plenty. Just the other day, the Democratic
"leadership" in Congress surpassed even itself in capitulation,
a talent at which it has excelled for some time.
If you wasted the time to watch the circus (I only do it because
I love you, Dear Readers), then you are obviously part of the problem:
no one should dignify this fraud of a presidency by validating the
notion that he has something to say. The world has long since stopped
listening, and only the sycophantic U.S. press gave The Leader of
the Free World the stagecrafted, self-serving free advertising to
which the far right feels entitled from the "liberal press."
Bush entered this farcical pageant at the lowest point of any postwar
president since Nixon, and is fast catching up to the crook.
Brave souls were treated to the usual lies, exaggerations, distortions
and demagoguery, as ol' Ronnie would say. But a few brazen nuggets
stand out: it was refreshing, in a perverse sort of way, to hear
the biggest recipient of political oil money on the face of the
earth rail against special interests.
"We're addicted to oil!" says the oilmonger. "We
must guard against the tendency to centralize power in Washington!"
says the Unitary Executive. "We need to seek bipartisan solutions!"
says the man behind the curtain of the most ruthless rubber stamp
Congress in memory, who shuts out the opposition in closed conferences
at which major revisions to legislation are decided.
When he started in on affordable health care, I had to leave the
room to throw up; there is a limit to the pain I can take even for
the sake of a column. Thankfully, I was in the bathroom when The
Man Who Makes Us Safer introduced Justice Alito, the living, breathing
symbol of the end of Constitutional government in the U.S.
It's nice to see that he's still reaching out to Black folks,
I guess; maybe a sign that he's in as much trouble as we think he
is, seeing that 100% of African-Americans in a recent Zogby poll
(I'm not kidding) are unconvinced.
But seriously, folks, we are in deep shit. The fact that this charade
could take place at all without a self-respecting opposition walking
out on a muppet who arrogates to himself the "inherent authority"
to piss on them is yet another sign that the Reichstag fire has
come and gone. Democrats are too complicit, too timid, too stuck
in a past in which one wing of their own party was among the greatest
terrorist organizations in human history.
The War Party has mastered the election: Mark Crispin Miller argues
that tampering and memory card chicanery engineered a switch of
eight million votes in 2004. Too bought-and-sold to save even themselves,
it would be a true miracle if the carcas of the party could convince
Americans that it can save the country and swing control of the
legislative branch in November.
But George Orwell may have been right: if there is hope, it lies
in the proles. Of course, by his own prose, it proved a misplaced
hope, but let's stick with the slogan. The highlight of my evening
was not typing this as I listened to the Joker-in-Chief spin a new
web of lies: prior to the speech, we interrupted our little gathering
to stand outside in the frigid New England air and "drown out the
noise," as the organizers suggested.
Holding signs reading "Impeach Bush," "Drown out the Lies," and
"Peace," our hapless little band garnered more attention
than we have ever felt for another cause or candidate. Is it too
late? Or is there an undercurrent sweeping the country, sick of
being told how to be American by the pimps and whores whose assets
are safely stowed in the Cayman Islands or in a secret Swiss account,
or in the greedy, bloody hands of some transnational oil borg?
We are citizens of the world, and the world is fed up.
Writer, singer, linguist and activist Daniel Patrick Welch
lives and writes in Salem, Massachusetts, with his wife, Julia Nambalirwa-Lugudde.
Together they run The
Greenhouse School. Translations of articles are available in
up to 20 languages. Visit Daniel's website at danielpwelch.com.