Hari-Kerry

First of all, before I telestrate the potentially game-breaking verbal fumble committed by the Great Wooden Chin, there's one other little piece of unpleasantness that I'd like to get out of the way. You couldn't be blamed, Dear Reader, for wondering why I would choose to even mention it here rather than elsewhere on this, uh, blog, uh, thingy. Likewise, you can't be blamed if you wonder about the ambiguity of my stated rationale...

Because of the symbolism, damn it.

*ahem*

Howard,
In the unlikely event that I "jump back on the goddamn bandwagon" anytime soon (go ahead and hold your breath for that, you low-level government lackey) and start rooting for the [Censored], [Unutterable], Bogus [Stool-samples] again, rest assured that I wouldn't be buying the number 33 jersey of left-hander Glendon Rusch. If I were to buy a jersey at all, it would be the numero 29 worn by that scrappy, switch-hitting outfielder, The Pagan Angel. If you're going to waste the government's time and the taxpayers' dollars spying on me, the least you could do is pay attention.

Besides, it's "God-damned bandwagon," you poser.

Now, then...

MEMORANDUM

From: Killre

To: Mr. John "Hari" Kerry, the, uh, steamed Senator from Mass-o'-two-[chetts] who, like a New England lobster, is cooked; Mr. John "Parry" Kerry, that brightly-painted wooden soldier with the tomahawk-chop arm and the magnificent, malleable mandible that really moves when he talks (oh, brother, does it ever!); Mr. John "Airy" Kerry, the very, very former Presidential candidate for the party of the big, parenthetical (D), which apparently stands for "Disorganized," or "Discombobulated," or maybe just "Defense," since that's the side of the ball they always seem to be on in that big, on-going political scrimmage inside the beltway, reacting a half-step too late to the latest ground-gobbling play sent in by the (R)-team's offensive coordinator, Karl Rove.

Re: Your fumble, sir.

To wit: Nice goin', putz.
Almost in spite of their own willy-nilliness, your team (such as it is) was actually holding its own in this year's Mid-term Bowl. For once, they actually had those big, bad, hypocritical (R)s backed up deep in their own territory... before your little choke-job, that is.

Those expensive shoes of yours must taste awfully good. Why else --in the name of all that is sacred and holy!-- why else would you utter these remarks in front of a phalanx of cameras and microphones and students at Pasadena City College...

"You know, education: If you make the most of it --if you study hard and you do your homework and you make an effort to be smart-- uh, you, you can do well. If you don't, you get stuck in Iraq."

Whoa, lost the handle on the ball there, din'cha, Johnny-boy? Let's run that play again...

"Education: If you make the most of it and study hard and do your homework and make an effort ... you just might learn how to tell a [juxtaposing] joke!"

For that is what you called it, didn't you, oh, great, wooden and chinly one? A botched joke. A badly botched joke, intended to skewer the President by tying his questionable intellect to his questionable foreign policy. Not a bad idea... even if I do say so myself. But, as any coach will tell you, even the best-designed plays in the book can go horribly wrong when poorly executed.

Now, there are some people on your side of the field --Keith Olbermann and Bill Maher among them-- who have rushed vociferously to your defense, Johnny-boy, saying that your remark was taken out of context and that if one looks at the transcripts and the remarks leading up to it and takes the thing as a whole and crawls around inside your brain for awhile and blah, blah, blah, blah...

With all due respect to these defenders, I say, "Phooey."
They're reaching. Plain and simple, they are reaching too far to make your case for you. Don't get me wrong: I'm willing to believe you when you say it was a botched joked aimed at Bush. But their assertions that it wasn't even really all that badly botched is wishful thinking. Asking most Ordinary Citizens to conduct their own, personal, in-depth investigation into the subtle background and textured context of one careless remark is, frankly, asking too much. Most people don't have that kind of time... nor should they be expected to make it. They have better things to do than to try and figure out what you really meant.

The truth is, Mr. Hari, Airy, Tarry-too-long-on-the-National-Stage... the truth is that in this, the Era of the Sound Bite, you handed the opposing team a bit with which they promptly took a bite out of your [jackass]. And you deserved it. You ought to know better. After all, you're no rookie. Besides, gang-tackling somebody who verbally trips over their own feet and winds up with one of them in their mouth is precisely the sort of thing that everybody --including many Republicans and/or conservatives-- has been doing to a certain Smirking Marionette for six years, now. What's good for the Elephant is good for the Donkey, honky.

Now watch what happens, Mr. I Got Even Poorer Grades at Yale Than George W. Bush Did, when some no-name truck driver writes your joke for you. I can't guarantee that it'll be any funnier, but at least it won't sound like you're calling the troops that are dying halfway around the world --so that your party can win control of the House-- stupid.

"Y'know... Education: If you make the most of it --if you study hard and you do your homework and you make an effort-- you can do well. If you don't, you get us stuck in Iraq."

See what I did there?

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Luckily for you, Johnny-boy, Ted Haggard is, uh, "playing for the other team," if you know what I mean.

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P.S.... Bud "On Wisconsin, On Wisconsin,
Fight Right Through That Line" Selig must go.