Surge Dirge

May 5, 2007

What goes around comes around. When Decider George decided to turn a blind eye, ear, nose and throat to the absolute horror his sorry-assed team had created in Iraq, one of the worst national leaders in world history poured jet fuel on an already scorching inferno. Against all normal, rational and conventional wisdom produced by a ton of study groups (the most notable, the official Iraqi Study Group, fronted by a couple of longtime political hacks), historians, some politicians, the majority of the Iraqi people, and the American voter, hard-assed headed Decider George instead ordered a surge of more boots-on-the-ground in Baghdad.

Hence the worst is yet to come. This weekend the obvious finally reared its dead: “As we have surged, we find the enemy is surging as well,” reported Major General Rick Lynch, commander of troops in south-central Baghdad. Thirteen soldiers were killed from Lynch’s troops and 39 wounded last month as the fight gets intense. Although there’s a surge, the killing continues.

And why? The situation is a scrap between locals. Just yesterday, there were clashes between rival Shiite militia groups, those sided with Mogtada al-Sadr and the Badr Brigades of the Supreme Council for the Islamic Revolution. It’s a home-turf fight. And all the brew-haw-haw of the horror that would erupt with US troops leaving Iraq has been overblown. According to the UPI news service, Anthony H. Cordisman, a bright fellow with the Center for Strategic and International Studies, one of those Washington think-tanks, said last week the aftermath of a US troop withdrawal has been exaggerated. Although the upheaval would be “violent and unpleasant,” the resulting problems would most likely be internal and not the regional war that some think would be forthcoming.

The last-gasp to grasp vistory will turn out to be one of the worst blunders Decider George has made among a horrific-long list of horrific blunders. The surge will sound like a rat-tat-tat dirge. The war in Iraq with its bloody surge has become more and more every day a long mournful poem with thousands of hundreds of thousands of voices crying into heaven.

Decider George is one cold-hearted sonofabitch. And yes, shithead, I’m talking about Barbara.

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