Monday, August 04, 2008
Dear Diary,
I've never been proud of my country until right now. Or maybe I mean I've never been AS proud of my country. Whatever. Country first, America Uber Alles. So I lay out my policies one after the other. The economy: be richer, you rich. Health: don't get sick, especially if you're poor. National security: just say "war". Iraq, Afghanistan, Iran – there's a reason why war rhymes with more. Energy: drill on in, the water's fine. Housing: what, me worry? Me and Cindy-pills have like eight of them. Climate change: with bespoke Savile Row suits in ultra-tropical weight filling my closets, turn up the thermostat all you want. At my age cold's a killer anyway. Education: don't know much about history, biology, a science book, the French I took. It's my party and I can say Czechoslovakia if I want to.
Couldn't be clearer, right Diary? What isn't self-serving greed is self-serving paranoid fear-mongering is self-serving know-nothing do-nothingness. It's like I'm standing on tiptoe in my Ferragamos giving the world a big middle finger. And here's the thing: with all that I'm even with Mr. Uppity in the polls. That's right, a dead heat. God I love this country. I mean the Rand Corp. just produced a big study for the DOD which argues for fighting terrorism with police work. More or less. Repudiates the whole war on terror, my reason for being. And did it get any notice at all? Nope, not a jot. It's like everybody else is doing my work for me.
From here on in I'm just gonna coast. Oh I'll keep smearing Osama all right. But since I've already called him a communist unAmerican traitor, who hates our troops and coddles terrorists and wants to date hot blondes, what the hell else can I say? Better call Karl. Right after my nap.
Honorably yours,
John Sidney McCain, III