It's time to party.
As the families of bomb-flattened Fallujah huddle in make-shift refugee camps, drinking from sewage-filled streams, Iraqi policy mastermind Paul Wolfowitz fastens the last stud into his starched collar.
As Sgt. Kevin Benderman, an Army mechanic with nine years of service, refuses a second deployment to Iraq, saying, "You just don't know how bad it is," Colin Powell pours himself a drink.
As Osama bin Laden chuckles in his cave to see America's fortunes sink in the morass of Iraq and as fresh recruits to his cause multiply like flies, Dick Cheney pops the cork on a bottle of Dom Perignon.
And as his corporate pals slide their millions across the table to dance at his ball, forgetting for a moment the bottom line that forces them to ship jobs overseas, George W. Bush pulls on his snakeskin boots.
I've spent the last two months in kind of a daze. This devastating piece in the Minneapolis StarTribune snapped me out of it and brought tears to my eyes. What have we done?
Twin Citians, some words of encouragement to the Strib and writer Susan Lenfestey might be in order here. This piece is being slammed around on the Minnesota-based Powerline blog and will surely bring in a flood of nasty letters and threats of dropped subscriptions. I am already a Strib subscriber and made a point of telling them that my subscription was a result of their Kerry endorsement.