George Bush And Donald Rumsfeld Prefer Iraqi Chaos to Iraqi Democracy – Part Four

Continued From Yesterday.

“I did not hear you say that. I did not hear you say that,” repeated President Bush.

“What I mean is that we need an organized iron fist in Iraq, and we cannot seem to get the Iraqi security forces, cobbled together from all the factions, to be an organized iron fist,” said Rumsfeld.

“The Sunnis are more secular than the Shiites,” said Bush.

“Yes, but they tend to be more ruthless and do not forget that Al Qaeda is Sunni, not Shia,” said Rumsfeld.

“The Sunnis think of power and the Shia think of their religion. I appreciate both perspectives,” said Bush.

Where was this going, wondered Rumsfeld.

“The meeting I had with Saddam Hussein, what, thirty years ago to see if we could assist in his war with Iran was very civil. A civil conversation. I could talk to Saddam. He was secular in nature, not religious,” said Rumsfeld.

“I don’t want to talk about Saddam Hussein. I want to talk about the Sunni. We need the Sunni to be that iron fist you referred to,” said Bush.

“Yes, possibly,” said Rumsfeld.

“I say we pull our forces back to northern Iraq, to Kurdistan, and let the Sunni and Shia go at it with each other. Like a cockfight,” said Bush.

“That would certainly cause chaos,” said Rumsfeld.

Bush looked back down at the German cockroach. Still there, waiting patiently. The cockroach lived in a world of chaos, thought Bush. There were no rules. Bush could easily raise his black leather shoe and slam it down on the cockroach, ending its life. Chaos. It is everywhere.

“What is wrong with chaos?” asked President George W. Bush.

To Be Continued.

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George Bush And Donald Rumsfeld Prefer Iraqi Chaos to Iraqi Democracy – Part Three

Continued From Yesterday.

“Iraqis are like cockroaches. They want to eat and not be eaten,” said Bush. The light brown cockroach was still at the edge of the Oval Office plush carpet sniffing the oak flooring. Bush knew that light brown cockroaches were German cockroaches. German cockroaches in the White House. Damn, how did that happen.

“Not be eaten?” said Rumsfeld.

“They want to be safe,” said Bush.

“You state the obvious,” said Rumsfeld. Whoops. Rumsfeld knew he betrayed a certain distain for the nearly romper room observations made by the President.

“The obvious is often ignored as too simple to be considered significant,” said Bush.

Yeah. OK. Like that was supposed to be deep. Rumsfeld knew all along that feeling safe was more important than the right to vote in a democratic election, except when a nation spontaneously erupts in one major upheaval that demands democracy, an upheaval so fast that it overwhelms the power structure. The problem with Iraq is that it was not fast and the upheaval came from America, not from within. Before America’s invasion, the Iraqis had settled into some kind of Saddam Hussein status quo where everyone knew their place, kept to themselves and got through the day without being blown up. But Rumsfeld had thought that it was possible to jump start the upheaval, feed it and make it happen. But it didn’t. That was the failure, and he had concluded that it was now too late. Too many people had power and arms, and there were too many factions. The most articulate way to describe it was anarchy.

“To perfectly honest with you, sir, I miss Saddam Hussein,” said Rumsfeld.

To Be Continued.

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George Bush And Donald Rumsfeld Prefer Iraqi Chaos to Iraqi Democracy – Part Two

Continued From Yesterday.

“What?” asked Bush as he remained fixated on the cockroach.

“I said things are not doing well,” said Rumsfeld.

“It all depends on how you look at it,” said Bush.

‘Though I would never admit this in public, I fear that we are on the brink of a civil war,” said Rumsfeld.

“I am going to guess that cockroaches are optimistic. That cockroaches do not see gloom and doom,” said Bush.

“Excuse me?” said Rumsfeld.

Bush looked up at Donald Rumsfeld, who appeared perplexed.

“Cockroaches have a simple view of things. They want to eat, and they do not want to be eaten. That is a lesson for us,” said Bush.

“In what way, sir,” said Rumsfeld. Donald Rumsfeld had had conversations like this before with the President, where Bush would come up with some metaphor or perspective that reminded him at times like the utterances of the character Chauncey Gardiner played by Peter Sellers in the feature film Being There. The only difference is that Chauncey Gardiner had mesmerized the nation though a dimwit, whereas Bush mesmerized no one. But he was President, voted in by idiot Americans who believed that they had a leader to lead them. In fact, what America had was a man who surrounded himself with child care and it was the caregivers that were leading the nation. But this was a child with rich and powerful parents, and so the caregivers had to make nice so the child would not have a temper tantrum.

Bush was looking down again at the floor.

“Sir, in what way do cockroaches provide a lesson for us?” asked Rumsfeld again.

To Be Continued.

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George Bush And Donald Rumsfeld Prefer Iraqi Chaos to Iraqi Democracy – Part One

It was light brown and had scurried to the edge of the plush carpet, a carpet that followed the contours of the Oval Office leaving an exposed border of oak flooring about two feet wide. President George W. Bush had been keeping his eye on the cockroach for the past two minutes, watching it move from one of the Presidential desk legs, then stopping for a brief moment to sniff Bush’s black leather shoe, and then moving on to the edge of the carpet where it stopped, it’s antennae searching out before it gathering information. Go forward? Pull back? President George W. Bush thought that the cockroach was doing intelligence, getting the best information to make an intelligent decision. The cockroach had no idea that it was in such a special place, in a room where earth shattering decisions were made, in one of the most powerful places on earth. The cockroach did not care. Indeed, the cockroach probably would have preferred a damper venue.

Bush admired the sense of sobriety of the cockroach. The human world, the concerns of people and nations, were of no concern to the cockroach. The cockroach, Bush figured, had only two concerns: eat food and not be food. The basics of life. Once the basics of life were taken care of, then the cockroach, if he had the mind, could concern himself with higher aspirations. But that was the thing. The cockroach had no higher aspirations. It was just eat and not be eaten. Basics. Sustenance and security.

“Things are not doing well,” said Donald Rumsfeld, who had been sitting in the wood and upholstered chair in front of the Presidential desk, wondering what was distracting the President on the floor. They were alone, and it was their weekly early morning meeting. Usually several staff members were present, but Rumsfeld wanted this meeting to be private.

To Be Continued.

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Harry Morton Asks Lindsay Lohan To Shave Her Crotch - Part Two

Continued From Yesterday.

Lindsay Lohan’s disheveled black hair covered much of her face. She pushed the copious black hair back to get a better look at Harry Morton lying on the bed.

“Why do you want me to shave my crotch hair?” asked Lindsay.

So here was the big moment. Should he tell Lindsay that he has this very little fetish of wanting to see a clean crotch, that somehow the hair makes the whole thing dirty for Harry. Would Lindsay buy that? In point of fact, though it made oral sex more interesting, it was not a big deal for Harry Morton one way or another. His real reason was control. Get control, keep control. And this was a hard woman to control. Of course he could not tell her that. Unless of course she thought it so absurd Lindsay would merely laugh it off.

“Well, Lindsay, you are so beautiful, and though all of you is luscious, I thought that shaving your crotch hair might permit your perfect femininity and sweet aromas to shine through in a way that may enhance our sexual experimentation,” said Harry.

That sounded good. Harry always amazed himself at how poetically articulate he could be on the fly. Just make it up on the spot. The women loved it. Harry oozed charm, and felt like he could turn it on at anytime, day or night, sober or drunk.

“Are you like some sick fucko. Shave my crotch hair so my sweet aromas come through? Where’d you come up with that Hallmark bullshit?” said Lindsay Lohan without a hint of a smile.

Whoops. OK. That didn’t work. But Lindsay sometimes did this. Get tough, then go soft. She was playing tough, or she was not feeling well because of the long night of drinking. Lindsay gets impatient in the morning, hungering to recover a feeling of health and fitness, a feeling that over time becomes false. As every alcoholic knows, the mornings are the worst, but it gets better throughout the day. Nondrinkers never know how the day will go. But alcoholics always knew things got better. A benefit of heavy evening drinking. Harry knew how it was. He was not feeling his best either.

“Hey, Lindsay, I am serious. You have such fair skin, its almost pink and freckled. There is something absolutely angel-like about it. I just wanted to explore everything about you. I am sorry if I spoke thoughts I should have kept to myself,” said Harry.

“What am I doing today?” asked Lindsay. “Oh, yeah. I got to go to the lawyers. Sign papers or something. I got to get dressed,” said Lindsay.

“OK. Sounds good. Later than. Dinner or something?” asked Harry.

“Yeah. And I’ll shave my crotch hair. Sounds like a plan, as long as it grows back,” said Lindsay as she walked into the bathroom and shut the door.

Knew it. She folded. Harry had Lindsay in the palm of his hand. Lindsay Lohan plays tough. But she’s an actor. She plays tough, soft, weepy, steely. She can do it all. All for Harry.

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