Fare Thee Well — Part 2

January 15, 2009

Even an after-thought already.
Decider George’s farewell fiasco was eclipsed in the news cycle today by the Airbus doing a hard belly-flop in the Hudson River — and furthermore, a “miracle,” as everybody on board got out alive, creating a story-line way-overshadowing a despised president’s parting dribble.

farewell art
(Illustration of Emile Jean Horace Vernet’s ‘Les Adieux de Fontainebleau‘ found here).

The event depicted by the artwork is Napoleon’s farewell speech to his Old Guard in April 1814, following the Russian-invasion-bad-ass-retreat disaster, which spawned an alliance between England, Austria, and Prussia with Russia and beat his army, took Paris — end of story.
Not so fast.
After telling his remaining officers “I bid you farewell” in the courtyard at Fontainebleau, the big, old palace outside Paris, he returned fairly quickly (10 months later), had to be beaten again at Waterloo by all those other guys, and then finally, end of story.

Decider George is no Napoleon, dynamite or not, and his little farewell program this afternoon was a shame, a sad, but yet right-on exhibition of how the past eight years have been programmed.
The whole spiel was war — immediately 9/11 came to the forefront — and his “blessing” as commander-in-chief has allowed the US to be terrorist-attack free since 2001.
The biggest pack of bullshit: The democratic nation of Afghanistan is a shining light for freedom for all to see — a border-line, full-blown lie.
The country is quickly becoming the “…longest campaign of the long war.”
Such an arrogant shit, Decider George just looks like he doesn’t care, even as he says there have been “good days, tough days,” he’s just mouthing words, going through the motions.

Reaction to the speech went from ignore it to the 13-minute talk being another defence of a troubled record to the absurd idea it was a “classy speech” — from those dumb white boys at Fox News.
Hard not to get pissed at this: (Text via HuffPost)

  • As the years passed, most Americans were able to return to life much as it had been before Nine-Eleven.
    But I never did.
    Every morning, I received a briefing on the threats to our Nation.
    And I vowed to do everything in my power to keep us safe.

What happened to that August 2001 briefing, dip-shit?

And this:

  • For eight years, we have also strived to expand opportunity and hope here at home.

In an age of chaos, he sits alone on the porch of life.
The speech appeared a brown oddity, flanked by those two flags, the big, oak-looking brown doors behind him — a colorless hue in an expression of years of yellow hell.
And in that stifling browness, Bob Dole, his cold-faced, cadaverous wife, Elizabeth, Decider George’s shrill-voiced old lady, Laura, and there on the front row, bubbling like a KBR shower-head was Dufus Dick Cheney.
The old gang, the same old sick, tried bromides for a presidency that has meant nothing but failure and disaster for so many people for such a long time.

We all hope this is farewell for good — no Napoleon and no Waterloo.

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