My good friend, Scott McClellan, shown at left demonstrating the size of Karl Rove’s breasts for the White House Press Corps (ok, just Jeff Gannon), recently dropped a literary bomb on Plame Gate:

“I stood at the White House briefing room podium in front of the glare of the klieg lights for the better part of two weeks and publicly exonerated two of the senior most aides in the White House: Karl Rove and Scooter Libby.  There was one problem. It was not true.

[I] unknowingly passed along false information. And five of the highest-ranking officials in the administration were involved in my doing so: Rove, Libby, the vice president, the president’s chief of staff, and the president himself.”

Since the news errupted Tuesday, Scott has not granted any interviews to the press; however, I did receive an email from him yesterday.  I have printed it below as I’m sure he won’t mind dealing with the leak …

‘Sup Boo,

Dude … what up?  Did you see that release about the boys club?  I can totally see that Dick’s face when they read it … and Cheney’s too … LOL!  I’m so freakin tired of being the butt of everyone’s jokes around there.  I’m Scott mother fuckin’ McClellan mother fuckers!  And they can’t mess with this Irish boy any longer!!!

No more being the taste tester for Dick’s food.  No more signs taped to my back that read “dough-boy”.  No more high-5’s that leave me hangin’.  Fuck dat noise, girl!  I’m gonna be heard like Paul Revere! 

And ya know what else?  That Georgie Porgie never invited me to the ranch after Tony came on board.  He stood on TV and said we’d be like, rockin on porch swings and shit.  HE LIED TO THE AMERICAN PEOPLE ABOUT IT!  What the fuck is that all about?!?!?!  How can you lie about something like that???  I called him and he was like, “Uh, Scott … I gotta see about blah blah blah” and then I totally heard Tony Snow with his Ken Doll big fat head laughing in the background. 

And don’t even get me started on Dana Perino.  That twat wouldn’t know how to lie believably at the Daily Press Briefing if her hair dye depended on it! 

So now the bombs are coming girl.  Maybe if they’d been a little nicer, I woulda lied for them a little longer, but no!  And yeah, I coulda done the right thing while I was in the administration, but dang!  I thought they were my friends.  Like a family, ya know!  Nobody messes with Scott MOTHER FUCKIN’ MCCLELLAN! 

Peace out.

Scott M.

P.S:  Am I invited to Thanksgiving or what??

It was a good thing I was trying on a new pair of astronaut diapers when the White House called to invite me to dine with George again.  Surely, most citizens – no matter what political persuasion – would relish the opportunity to have lunch at the White House.  I, on the other hand, would rather eat lunch with real learning disabled people than spend one more hour watching Karl cut the crust off George’s bread.

… but I went anyway …

When I stepped into the President’s private office, he was hunched over his true-to-scale model of the Titanic.  Truly the model is a work of art … or it would be if G.I. Joe figurines were not staging combat in the dining hall of the ship.  I stood there, after being announced, for 5 minutes while George kept rearranging the fucking benches on the deck of the ship.   

Finally, I had had about enough.

Boo:  George.  George … George!

Curiously, he covered his head and ducked like I was about to clock him.

George:  Wha???

Boo:  George, it’s me … Boo.  We have a lunch appointment, remember?

George:  No one’s eatin’ ’til I git this right, ya’ll.

Boo:  You don’t have to do the Texan twang, we’re not on camera. 

George:  Don’t mess with Texas!

Boo:  I know you’re from Connecticut, remember?

George:  Oh, right.  What do you think about these benches here? 

My stomach growled so loudly it sounded like Barney took a freedom poop on the carpet. 

Boo:  What is that mark on the Titanic’s deck?

George:  Ah shit!  Benchmarks!  I fucking hate those damned things!  I just repainted that deck because of the scratch left by the time tables. 

Boo:  The what tables?

George:  The t-y-m-e tables, Boo!  Nothing good ever came from a time table -

Boo:  Did you just spell ‘time’ with a ‘y’?

Karl:  The President and former Vice President Quayle do flashcards together.

I nearly jumped out of my skin.  I hate it when Karl sneaks up on me like that … it’s like he travels in the dark shadows empowered by an underworld of ghostly demons***.

Boo:  How many times have I asked you not to sneak up on me?

Karl:  And who the hell are you to tell me what to do?!?

Boo:  Well, technically, Karl, I’m your boss as I am a citizen of this country!

Karl:  I work for the American people!

Boo:  Yes, we went over that, remember? 

Karl:  Oh, yeah … How’s the benches coming along, George?

Boo:  I’m not sure why you’re rearranging the deck furniture over and over.  It is the Titanic after all.  It’s a little ironic …

George:  What’s irony?

I looked over at Karl who’s bloated face was also surprisingly blank. 

Boo:  Never mind.  How about we -

Suddenly, Harry Reid busted in holding his spectacles in his hand.  Tripping over the ficus tree near the door, Harry tripped right into Karl’s arms. 

Harry:  Oh, I …

Karl:  … You need to watch yourself there, Harry.

The moment was about as awkward as when I walked in on Trent Lott tea-bagging Strom Thurman under the guise of the old man’s diaper change. 

Harry:  I think I have your glasses, and you have mine.

Karl:  Oh, that’s what’s messed up my perspective all day.

Boo:  I don’t think that’s quite it, but …

They switched glasses, readjusted their eyes, and smiled at each other sweetly.  Regaining his senses, Harry gathered his things, and rushed to the door, dropping something by the couch. 

Boo:  Oh, Harry, you dropped this.

Harry: What is it?

Boo:  I think it’s your pussy … you’ll definitely need that for the Senate!

Harry:  I sure will! 

He left in a flash. 

Boo:  So can we talk about something of substance now?

George:  Like what?

Boo:  Like the fact that you vetoed the stem cell bill today?

George:  Well, of course I vetoed that bill!  Number one, I got to use my new Transformers pen … the Autobots wage their battle to destroy the evil forces of the abortionists!  [Yes, he sang it.]  Number two, it’s immoral. 

Boo:  Isn’t it just as immoral to slow the progress of a science that could help to treat and possibly cure people living with deadly diseases?

George looked like a deer in headlights.  He turned to Karl.

George:  Karl? …

Karl:  Once you’re born, we don’t really give a shit.

Boo:  OK … what about the fact that most of the embryos in question will be destroyed anyway?  Isn’t the rational view to -

Karl:  We don’t use the “r” word here, missy.

Boo:  So you don’t care about the diseases that could be treated -

George:  Oh yeah, like what diseases, missy??

I hate it when they call me missy. 

Boo:  Well, maybe they would’ve come up with a vaccine for retards and the people who vote for them.

Karl:  There’s no such thing.

Boo:  Yeah … tell me about it. 

***Actually, just one demon – Dick Cheney [who is NOT a reptoid, and he gets really pissed when people get them mixed up, btw] … *** 

I’m not flying this week with my friend, George, to South America.  Although I really wanted to, I just couldn’t peel myself away from the Libby coverage, and I’m not allowed to say the L-Word in front of the President.  Plus, Rove’s a bit mad at me because I stenciled the image of Che Guevara on all his t-shirts. 

From Air Force One, George did call me to check for the recipe of an Irish Car Bomb, and I took the opportunity to have a chat with my buddy.

Boo:  How’s it going, George?

George:  I can’t comment on an on-going investigation, Boo.

Boo:  Yes, sir.  I understand, Mr. President.  So …

Uncomfortable silence.  In the background, I could hear a distinct slurping noise.

Boo:  What is that?

George:  What?

Boo:  That noise in the background?

George:  Oh …

He giggles a bit.

George:  That’s me.  My gums hurt ‘cuz I keep pressin’ on ‘em.

Boo:  Why are you pressing on them if they hurt?

George:  ‘Cuz it hurts but it feels good, ya know?

I didn’t really, but it didn’t stop me from enthusiastically concurring.

Boo:  So, what are you reading now?

George:  The Secret.

Boo:  Really?  You read it?

George:  I watched the Oprah show.  Look, I’m really into positive thinkin’.  Positive attracts positive.  It’s a law of nature.  Plus, I can blame other people’s negative thoughts for my Presidency. 

Boo:  Actually, opposites attract.

George:  Ah, Boo, I’m married.

Boo:  That’s not what … never mind.  But George, don’t you think it will take more than good thoughts to fix Iraq, terrorism, the threat of nuclear proliferation, poverty, and healthcare?

George:  You’re gittin’ me down.  Ya see, it’s you people who keep focusing on the negative.  Like Americans.  Ya’ll git me down.

Boo:  Sorry.

George:  It’s OK.  But see there?

Boo:  What?

George:  Who says I don’t listen to the people?

I want everyone to take a break from their day today and say a small prayer for my friend, Karl Rove.  I know, I know … he’s not everyone’s favorite evil genius, but he is a human being (sort of) who is under a lot of stress lately. 

You see, Karl needs to twist political rhetoric into befuddled logic for the American people in order to justify another bullshit war.  This is a huge task in and of itself.  The problem is, the American people aren’t so gullible anymore.  We know – for the most part – the fear tactics and problematic intelligence used the first time.  What’s that saying?

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0qDuG0ZYD5I]

Oh yeah … something like that.

So on the phone today with Karl, he was a bit upset.  Here’s just a tidbit of the conversation:

Karl:  I feel so bad … I just want someone to bring me warm milk and rub my tummy!

Boo:  What’s wrong, babe?

Karl:  I’ve lost it, Boo.  I’ve lost the touch.

Boo:  Don’t say that.  You can bullshit me with illogical rhetoric anyday!

Karl:  Really?

Boo:  Yeah.

I heard Karl blow his nose; it sounded like a freakin’ fog horn.

Karl:  You’re just sayin’ that.

Boo:  No, I’m not.  I totally buy all the bullshit about Iran.  I could totally blow the hell out of those people!

Karl:  Really?  I mean, like, the QUD’s force argument and all?

Boo:  Totally.

Karl:  What was your favorite part?  About my bullshit, I mean.

I had to take a moment to think about it.  There is just so much Rovian bullshit these days.

Boo:  Well, I like how you’re focusing on Iran and not, say, Saudi Arabia.  After all, Saudi Arabia is funding the Sunni militias who are responsible for 92% of the overall casualties and injuries to U.S. forces, but you’re focusing on Iran. 

Karl:  The Saudis own 18% of the country.  We have to divert attention.

Boo:  And it’s a brilliant scheme -

Karl:  Say that again.

Boo:  What?

Karl:  Brilliant scheme.

Boo:  Brilliant scheme.

Karl muttered what I think was a “oh yeah baby”, but I let it go.  Sometimes Karl can be creepy.  Friendly, but creepy.  Of course, you haven’t rubbed his tummy either, but I digress.

Boo:  Want to know my favorite part?

Karl:  YEAH!

I tried to do my best George Bush impression; I fear it’s really just a Ross Perot on cough medicine.

Boo:  “I don’t know what’s worse.  That the Iranian government knew about the QUDs force, or that it didn’t know about it.”

Karl started his belly laugh that can literally make the ground shake.  He once laughed so hard that he fell back in his chair.  I think that was over the whole WMD thing.  Who knows … there are just so many to count at this point.  But no one can make Karl Rove laugh like Karl Rove.  Not even Rummy.

Boo:  I mean, the argument clearly makes no sense whatsoever.  And I heard Tony repeat it at the White House Press Briefing.  Clearly, if the Iranian government knows about it, that is much worse because that is a clear indication of military interference by a country with forces greater than Iraq’s.  And if the Iranian government doesn’t know, that’s just another opening for possible diplomatic possibilities -

Karl:  Diplomacy is for pussies!

Boo:  Even though it works!

Karl:  Yeah!!!

Boo:  But if you just keep repeating -

Karl:  The country’ll be believing!

He loved that phrase.  Karl knows that if you repeat something enough, and show angry Muslims in the process, what you repeat will become truth.

Boo:  But do you ever feel bad, Karl?

Karl:  Bad about what?

Boo:  About the intellectual dishonesty?  About the bullshit you’re feeding to the American people? 

To his credit, Karl thought about this for a second.  Then I heard it.

The belly laugh … I guess that’s my answer.

I enjoy being enlightened while driving.  Some bumper stickers are so good, I feel the need to pull up beside the driver and give him/her a thumbs up … not like they had anything to do with the authorship of the sticker itself, they just had the forethought to pay a buck and stick it on their car. 

While my husband and I were driving this weekend, we saw a bumber stick that read:

“WAR SUCKS … BUT FREEDOM IS WORTH IT”

And the thing is, in its purest meaning, that is true.  I’m sure Revolutionary soldiers looked at each other at Saratoga, starving and standing in their own feces, and said, “But at least we’re not paying taxes on tea!”  So yes, war can be worth it – just not very often. 

The selling of the Iraq War as a freedom issue boggles the rational mind.  Aren’t we smarter than that?  What the Project for a New American Century knows that we’re afraid to admit is simple:  No one ever went broke underestimating the intelligence of the American people.  Can you imagine the meetings with Karl Rove, William Kristol, and the PNAC people sitting around with 100 year old Scotch, laughing their crony asses off saying, “No wait … I got a good one … we’ll occupy a country and then call them free!  It’ll be a gas!  Speaking of gas, put the Halliburton pro-formas up again.  I just can’t get enough!”

In Civics class and also in Critical Thinking classes (neither taught in school today … hmmm), one of the most important evaluation questions goes like this:

FROM WHAT … TO WHAT?

Barbara Jordan, one of this country’s greatest politicians – as well as the patron saint of this blog, asked that question to the Democratic National Convention while Clinton ran against Bush I.  She asked about change – change from what to what.  That question is apropos today. 

FREEDOM FROM WHAT … TO WHAT KIND OF FREEDOM?

The troop surge will start soon.  Nothing has changed, except for the rising death toll – not only for young American soldiers, but for Iraqi civilians as well.  How many Iraqi children would you kill, albeit accidentally, to give them freedom?  Freedom with U.S. military posts always present.  Freedom with a vote, but a vote that the U.S. better like. 

Barbara Jordan also said something else when dealing with issues of policy:

“It is reason, and not passion, which must guide our deliberations, guide our debate, and guide our decision.”

I’m sure the driver of that gas-guzzling H3 really thinks freedom is worth it.  He felt strongly about the Iraq war, and the issues of today.  Next to his “War Sucks” bumper sticker, Calvin was pissing on the word TERRORISM.  Now that’s a statement.