frontpaged at My Left Wing
As I've demonstrated previously Bill O'Reilly has a problem. Well, okay he has 1,706,830 problems (I checked) but the one I'm immediately concerned with right now is his problem with history.
Media Matters, that invaluable organization, has been in the habit of repeatedly rogering poor Bill's anus with the Red Hot Poker of Truth. Recently O'Reilly, apparently tiring of re-writing the history of a few centuries ago, delved into recent history.
On the November 7th edition of the Radio Factor Bill let loose with this gem:
But this French thing, I mean to us -- just remember this: If Jacques Chirac had stepped up and looked Saddam in the eye and said, "You either let those U.N. inspectors do their job unfettered, or I'm going with the U.S.A. and Britain," Saddam would have blinked. There wouldn't have been an Iraq war. This Iraq War is on Chirac. It's right on his head. That's where it is.
For those of you who haven't fainted from the sheer hammer blow of stupidity there, we'll continue on. Do me a favor and lay the unconscious ones out on the side of the room? Thanks.
Last time I had to commune with the spirits to get my answers. This time around, concerned parties are still alive. So, like any good historian when given the opportunity, I thought I'd conduct some personal interviews. I had my people (oh, I've got people) set up a meeting with Jacques Chirac. The following is a transcript of our conversation.
ME: Jacques, thanks for talking to me.
JC: It's pronounced "Zhock" not "Jackez", you fucking dolt.
ME: Oh, sorry. Guess I'm just an ugly American.
JC: Ugly? No, don't insult ugly people like that. You're hideous.
ME: Wow, you French really are rude assholes.
JC: Blow me, shit-for-brains.
ME: I'm gonna kick your bony Gallic ass!
JC: Come and try it.
[sounds of scuffling followed by gunfire]
French presidential bodyguards have good aim, I tell you. Anyway, while in the hospital recovering from from seven gunshot wounds, I set Jacques a basket of flowers and an apology note. He graciously accepted and agreed to another interview after my recovery. This is the transcript of the second:
ME: Sorry about the last time.
JC: Think nothing of it. I've had a lot on my mind. I was a little testy.
ME: Great! So, I wanted to ask you about Bil...say, what's been on your mind that's so rough, anyway?
JC: Nothing, it's just exhausting treating immigrants like shit.
ME: Ah, I'm well aware. People do sleep a lot more down along the U.S.-Mexico border. Anyway, about Bill O'Reilly...
JC: What about him?
ME: Well, he recently said the Iraq war was all your fault. All you had to do was stare down Saddam and he would have backed down.
JC: Did he really say that?
ME: Yup.
JC: Well....damn. I never thought of it that way. I guess I figured that the two most powerful nations in the Western world didn't need any more help...they sure weren't acting like it. Their reps did everything but whip it out and piss on U.N. delegates. I guess I...oh God. [he begins to weep]
ME: It's okay, Jacques...you want me to turn the tape off?
JC: No...no I need to get this out. I never realized...but the staggering wisdom and clarity of Bill O'Reilly have wrenched the blanket from my eyes. I am the modern Paul on the Damascus road. I should have seen that I held hypnotic sway over Saddam...he was in love with me, you know. He would have listened to me. Love could have conquered all...but no. I missed it.
ME: Go on. Cleanse your soul. I'm here.
JC: I...I had no idea that a critical determining factor in U.S. foreign policy was what France did. Weren't you guys going on about Freedom Fries and dumping French wine and declaring we were "cheese eating surrender monkeys"? Maybe I imagined it. I never would have thought Saddam would have stood boldly up to Bush and Blair, but cowered before a frog like me. But surely he would have. I thought George Bush was the Steely Eyed Rocket Man, able to bend dictators to his whim at a glance. But I see all this time that I really had that power! Surely that's what O'Reilly is implying...that I, Jacques Chirac, am a stronger leader than George Bush. Whoever would have thought? My God, My God...all those American deaths are on my head. Despite the faulty intelligence the Bush Admnistration cooked up and the headlong, arrogant impatience they showed...it was me who caused the war.
ME: Do you need some water?
JC: No...no. I'm almost done anyway. I see now that perhaps the force of my persona was so strong--remember, O'Reilly basically said that--that I actually unknowingly coerced George Bush into sending American soldiers into Iraq. Maybe I lead a double life I don't know about...maybe I'm actually the Commander-in-Chief of the U.S. forces. After all, apparently the final responsibility of the Iraq invasion lies with me. It really is all my fault.
ME: Really, Jacques?
JC: Yes, I see it all so clearly now.
ME: Well, thanks for your time...I guess I'll go now.
JC: Wait, are you fucking nuts? You couldn't tell I was kidding? Jesus, Bill O'Reilly is such a cockhead. Literally. His head? A big fucking pulsing cockhead. When he puts on a shower cap and steps in the shower to jack off with a loofah, that cap becomes a condom because it's stretched over his big cock head. Jesus, you Americans are dumb. How is he even allowed to speak to intelligent people? How is it my fucking fault? Bush beat the drums for war, Bush ordered U.S. forces in. That's pretty fucking cut and dry. Even a goddamn 1st grade immigrant could figure that out.
ME: That reminds me Jacques, you're a pretty big asshole for treating your immigrants like shit. No wonder they fucking rioted...your attitude is atrocious. It goes waaaaay beyond parochial. I'm not surprised the French got their asses beat out of every colony they ever had.
JC: Get the fuck out before you get more lead fired into your ass.
Still, my quest wasn't done yet. Like any good, thorough history investigator, I decided to go talk to Saddam himself. Through the aforementioned people of mine, I managed to meet him face to face in his cell.
ME: Thanks, Saddam for talking to me.
SH: [screams of pain] pleeeease...I'm telling you, there were no links between bin Laden and myself. I don't care if you put a dozen electrodes on my testicles, it doesn't change the truth. Stop, oh for the sake of Allah, stop!
ME: Saddam...it's just you and me. No one's torturing you.
SH: Oh...sorry. I get flashbacks to the period right after my capture.
[silence, sounds of shuffling feet]
ME: ...okay, so anyway...did you fear Jacques Chirac?
SH: No. Why?
ME: Because Bill O'Reilly says you would have knuckled under to him.
SH: Look, O'Reilly is a prick and an asshole. And that's me saying that...a brutal, thuggish, murdering dictator. If there's one thing I know besides how to be a despot, it's how to be an asshole and how to spot them. And Bill is the biggest, gaping, most hemmerhoid-ridden asshole in America, except maybe next to that prick Hannity.
ME: Wow, you know a lot about American wingnuts.
SH: Well, they and I both have an intense hatred of America in common.
ME: Can't argue. Hope you do serious time.
I had one more interview to conduct...the big enchildada...O'Reilly himself. I got access to his number and called him
ME: Hi, Bill? Listen, I was wondering if I could ask you about...
BO: SHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUPCUTHISFUCKINGMIKE!
ME: Bill! I haven't even asked you anything!
BO: Sorry, reflex action.
ME: It's okay...you scared me there. Anyway, what I was going to ask is...
BO: How big are your boobs?
ME: HUH?!?!
BO: I hope you've got really big boobs. I'd like to stand behind you and massage them.
ME: First of all, Bill, I don't have any boobs. Secondly, who past the age of 13 uses the word "boobs"? Honestly. Finally...what the fuck is wrong with you?
BO: I'm an angry man. Growing up on the mean streets of Leavittown will do that to a boy.
ME: You grew up in a middle class suburb. Is there anything about you that isn't fradulent?
BO: I really do like falafel. It's a tasty snack.
ME: You're crazy.
BO: Wanna know what fuels my anger? Suzie Templeton laughed at my peepee when we were 16 and in the backseat of my Vega.
ME: Peepee?
BO: Yeah...you know...boobs...peepee.
ME: I know what you're so angry...you haven't grown past a irate adolescent who can't see shades of gray and is pissed all the damn time. You're...you're...a manchild!
BO: Get off my fucking show before I fucking kick your ass.
ME: I'm not on your show!
BO: Because you're too much of a coward to appear.
ME: You know what, Bill? Nevermind.
So, what have we learned from our little journey?
Bill O'Reilly is a mendacious fuckstick.
Profound? No. Truthful? You betcha. And isn't serious historical exploration all about getting to the truth?
Because if there's one thing I think I've demonstrated with this piece, it's serious historical knowledge and context. Just like Bill O'Reilly.