Coming and Going….

Lo and behold, it seems that some loyal Bushies are in a bit of a snit over Obama’s mean and “ungracious” inauguration speech.  Karen Hughes, more in sorrow than anger, I’m sure, lamented that “He (Obama) missed an opportunity to be as big as the occasion was, and frankly, as gracious as President Bush was as he left office.”  The level of delusion here would be sad if it weren’t so infuriating.  Karl Rove, yes, that Karl Rove, wrote in the WSJ that “in a last angry frenzy his critics again distorted his record, maligned his character, and repeated untruths about his years in the Oval Office.” With that record, that character, and the years involved, one is hard pressed to think what any critic could possibly think of to say that could be worse than the truth, but no matter. After serving as toadying minions of the most disastrous administration in history, and driving the country off a moral, financial, and legal cliff, these nincompoops can’t understand why everyone’s so danged ungrateful.

The Keystone cops of 1600 Pennsylvania, who repeatedly and unhesitantly accused even the mildest critics of treason, hurled  blame and recriminations in every direction, and literally lied, cheated, and stole their way to power only to squander and debase it when they got it, are once again shocked, shocked,  at the disorienting absence of flowers and sweets for their selfless endeavors.  They point out, relentlessly, how wonderful Bush was, during the transition (never mind the Blair House thingie) as though the dunderhead had any choice in the matter.  He lost, big time, and thus leaves office in disgrace.  It’s pretty simple, really.  Na, na, na, na, hey, hey, hey, etc.

And let’s not forget the gracious, tone-changing way the Decider and his bunch entered office, falsely claiming vandalism by the Clinton team, draping themselves in the “dignity and honor” that once-hallowed office had supposedly lost.  They treated with purse-lipped revulsion everything from the dress code to the treaties of the Clinton years, and never stopped reminding us that, thank heaven, the grownups were now in charge.  And look how that turned out.

The trouble is, that after living in a bubble of sychophancy with Fox News as the Muzak, the Bush dead-enders have finally regressed to a perfect childlike state, wandering in the house of mirrors of their own creation, and each unwelcome glimmer of reality that appears reliably and annoyingly produces a tearful run to Mommy to kiss the boo-boo.  Grownups, indeed.

If this is the Legacy Project in action, I expect it to be greeted with the reception it deserves.  A Bronx Cheer.

37 Comments

  1. bebop-o says:

    test: ‘I can’t even comment at my niegh-bores-Place.
    I tried to comment with the handle:`GoodCelery! No.
    That’s okay tho –
    Cocktailhag, remember, Ya can always delete. Love,
    always. I’m in/out. Your more fun than FEDCO seeds.
    FEDCO seed catalogue makes me have HOPE. O Yes.
    I’m planning a trip to Main:`www.fedcoseeds.com//!
    Order:`Rose Finn Apple, Red Cloud, Romanize, Yukon.
    I have nothin’ to add… I rose-blushed-beige, and Shy.
    Hi pa`dners. O blight, russet, yellow-buff potato soup!
    Add a few slivers of green celery? I deleted? No problem.
    O boys & gals… behave… No store potatoes in the Light.
    Store tubular root crops in dark dry places for good stew?
    Unusual days, and strange times – Indeed. No GoodCelery!
    I’m no able to use my old GoodCelery! former nickname, huh. gads. no problem, and thanks, GoodCocktailhag!
    I gotta peel `tatters,
    and make a seed order.
    O, enjoy potatoes with skin.
    No peel, or, fight over scraps.

  2. timothy3 says:

    Ah, Hag, beautifully written. I particularly liked the quote from Rove, that “in a last angry frenzy his critics again distorted his record, maligned his character, and repeated untruths about his years in the Oval Office.”
    Let’s see:
    Bush’s record=crappy, murderous, inhuman, and altogether dishonorable;
    Bush’s character=stultified, petrified, adolescent, pathetic;
    Bush’s Presidency=all of the above.
    Karl Rove, that Pillsbury Doughboy who’s really creepy to look at=a turd blossom of a courtier who might more appropriately be called a courtesan.

    • cocktailhag says:

      That Rove bit had me reaching for the bottle early, too. The noive! I guess the best part is that the material is so shopworn and pathetic, and most people can’t stand the sight of this bunch, let alone interested in what they have to say/whine. Scotty McCllellan said it best, that to most Americans, everything Bush says sounds like “Charlie Brown’s teacher.” I’m warming up to ol’ Scotty in my old age.

      • Dirigo says:

        Ungracious, they say, and yet, Michelle presented Laura with a gift as they met on the West Portico of the White House didn’t she?

    • bebop-o says:

      Timothy3. The FEDCO seed company are famous for:`Moose Tube-Ya-lures.
      They are a resource for:` Yellow Finn, German Butter-Ball, Keuta Gold-Spuds.
      Diverse Fingerlings, French Fingerlings, but the Moose Tubers are the favorite.
      I assume:`Off-Topic. Timothy3? Fry fingerlings in a black pan with lard – fish?
      Creamy fish chowder? Add the purplish skinned fingerlings, and add the garlic.
      Garlic is actually a aphrodisiac, but I’d sure not know? Moose have garlic breath.

  3. timothy3 says:

    bebop-o, despite the garlic breath part, you’ve made me hungry. Did I ever mention that, when you talk of various vegetables, soups and so on, I end up in the kitchen looking for something to fill my belly (which, until that point, I didn’t even realize was empty)?
    You have a new grand-daughter, I think? Congratulations on that happy birth! I’ll bet she’s as cute as a button, as the saying goes.

  4. Dirigo says:

    It’s notably cheeky for Bush to say that Obama was ungracious when you factor in the Blair House episode. Give me a break.

    You have to live in Texas, as I have, to get a feeling for the in-bred arrogance of its leaders, which, when combined with the Eastern establishment Ivy sense of entitlement of the Bushes, makes for quite a … uhmmm … cultural cocktail.

    The Bushes of course, led by Poppy, moved from Connecticut to Midland-Odessa in the ’50s. Poppy was born in Milton, Mass. W was born in New Haven when Poppy was at Yale. Poppy’s dad was an investment banker on Wall Street and a senator from Connecticut. When Poppy was a kid, the family lived in Greenwich, in Fairfield County, perennially the richest county, per capita, in the United States. Poppy, ostensibly, was in the oil “bih-ness” in Midland. He did make a killing in the oil fields; it seems W did not. But after a while, with residency established in Houston, Poppy became a congressman, and the rest is history. Anyone know where Jeb is?

    I’ll tell you something about Texas.

    The last time I was there, in the early ’80s, I went to a few parties, which were a bit on the hoyty-toyty side. And, as an Eastern kid, I saw something I had never seen before. I thought it odd. The parties, hosted by lovely, middle-age Texas belles, had the feel of both the old South and Texas, a curious blend as I perceived it.

    There were a few women I met, some of whom I flirted with a bit, who seemed to be caught in a time-warp, in that they appeared to me to be posing as modern women, doing a sort of come hither, reacting occasionally to my “blandishments,” and then, in a flash retreating into a Southern belle pose, as if there was a Scarlett O’Hara routine they all learned, which rested on: “Why, whatever do you mean, suh?” Cue the fan flip just under the batting eyes.

    When I got confused about that, I took a break at the buffet table.

    Anyway, there was plenty of “howdy” Texas friendliness along with a Southern sense of style and reserve, with frills and wide-brimmed straw hats, and hoop skirts, and Lone Star belt buckles and lariats and cowboy suit jackets with arrow pockets.

    I always found the men kinda loud myself, both sartorially and verbally, like a roomful of Boone Pickenses, or Ross Perot’s. I’d never met ‘ol boys like that where I came from.

    There was always some barbecue and potato salad, even if that wasn’t the main course, and pitchers, and glasses and glasses of ice tea.

    But in every case (and these were just a few social thingies for me because I was a semi-public figure doing television news and theater at the time, so I was “known”), I was struck by the fact that the entire wait staff was black. In the garage, tables were set up and, depending on the numbers attending, there were two, three, or four black servers in white jackets and bow ties; and all the kitchen help, or female assistants to the Hostess of the Day, were black women.

    This, I thought, must be the catering style in these here parts. Do tell.

    And as I left one of these events, held in a fine ranch house in a better part of town, I saw, here and there – or I should say I noticed more sharply – a black-face lawn jockey statue at the end of the driveway.

    I mean I saw that dude when I arrived, and remembered seeing lawn jockeys planted at the end of driveways in front of fine New England homes – up to a time.

    But as I left a few of these parties, I almost felt the lawn jockey’s eyes right on me as I got into my car.

    • bebop-o says:

      Dirigo, not Dorito.Plant flower poppies, marigolds, Serenade,
      Vetch, fingerlings – grab a hoe. Hop in a pick-up truck, ditty.
      Plant flowers:`Flame-weeders, Hollyhocks, hot peppers, Leeks.
      Hush cherries, Chinese cabbage, Chrysanthemums (me), Be mum.
      Marigolds, cantaloupes. do the hoola-hoop, and spread alfalfa seed.

      • Dirigo says:

        bop, right now there’s a snow pack on the ground up here in Connecticut, and that’s okay. All the tree limbs are bare; and the sun, sitting low, is often masked with gray. It’s staying in the 20s most days. But by next month, I’ll think about arranging some pots and looking forward to getting some fresh soil, and doing a mix with some manure and fertilizer.

        I like to work the soil. Yup.

        I ain’t a great gardener, and don’t have the space right now to really do what I want, but I’d like to have my own some day, with flowers and veggies, squashes and lettuce, cukes and tommy-toes, radishes and beans, and stuff. Maybe a little scarecrow. Boo!

        Yup. That’s good.

    • cocktailhag says:

      Ah, Dirigo, you confirm all the worst things I’ve ever thought about Texas, and the South in general. That was a great piece; I’ll set you up as an author if you’d like so next time you could post up top.

      • Dirigo says:

        Well, thanks for that offer. Let me think about it. I don’t want to just let loose with regional slams.

        Still, the other moment in the South that has stayed with me occurred when I was in Albany, Georgia, circa 1966-67.

        My first Air Force duty station after basic and school was at a SAC base there. I arrived one night in an old General Motors bus, and recall it feeling like I had come upon the set for “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof”. It was hot and sticky, and all the time I was there, it seemed just damned hot and sticky. But I never met Elizabeth Taylor anywhere in town, sorry to say.

        Albany is near the Alabama border, in the southwest corner, and a lot of guys hooked it to Fort Walton Beach in Florida for hootin’ and hollerin’. I liked that when I could go because I could swim in salt water.

        One special trek I made while there was to Andersonville, where the Confederate prison was. It’s like a little Gettysburg, with lots and lots of square marble grave markers. Talk about torture. Why not talk about Andersonville, why don’t ya?

        There wasn’t much to do in Albany. It was a small, red dirt town, a farm town, probably a lot like Jimmy Carter’s home town. We went to the movies when we could at the only theater on Main Street. They also had live concerts, and it was there I saw Merle Haggard for the first time. I always enjoyed him, and he put on a good show.

        But the first time I went to that theater, I saw, also for the first time, the “black” entrance. Never saw anything like that before. At the side of the building was an alley, and the “black entrance” sign was stuck on the building right there. The alley ran down the side of the theater building, and over the door was a bare light bulb.

        I looked at that one night for a long time, so it registered in my memory. You have to look at stuff like that, real close, because it’s so unusual. If you look away quick and it flashes in your mind later, you might convince yourself it was only a kind of dream, and you’ll dismiss it.

        It wasn’t a dream.

        • cocktailhag says:

          I was in Baltimore for a wedding and it was in a private home in Guilford, an Olmsted designed district near Johns Hopkins. The next evening, we were having dinner there, and the lady of the house, noting my interest, showed me a book of its architect, “if you’re interested….” who happened to be John Russell Pope, he of Jefferson Memorial fame.
          He also designed the Train Station in Richmond, where plans showed the separate “colored” waiting room, dining room, and entrances. The book’s title: John Russell Pope, Architect of Empire. No kidding.

  5. bebop-o says:

    Cocktailhag.
    I best focus on mush-rooms,
    musk-melons, mesclun, mizuna,
    Nasturtiums, potatoes, and radicchio.
    tuna, squash, sorrel, soybeans – Gone.
    Zinnia, zucchini, tatsoi, garden tools, peas,
    shallots, tomatoes, thyme, timothy-grasses.
    Oh – prune blueberry bushes, and plant greens.

  6. timothy3 says:

    bebop-o: see, this is what I mean. The stomach rumbles, Gibralter may tumble, but with a side of timothy-grass, why, I’ll be ready for the Derby in no time. I wonder if I’d be refused entry to the race if I added a little vinaigrette?

  7. Jim Montague says:

    You know when I read that I instantly wished that Obama had a cruel sense of humor, or a finely developed sense of the practical joke.
    Can you imagine the horror of the Bush mob when, after being in the air for an hour,the pilot received orders diverting the plane to Guantanamo. And after announcing it to the cabin, give them a twenty minute pause, and after they have all shit on themselves, the plane casually resumes travel to its ultimate destination. The thought of Karl Rove, Karen Hughes, and George et al, making simultaneous calls for mercy would have kept me in laffs for a very long time.

  8. cocktailhag says:

    I tried it, and it didn’t work; it came up “page not found,” whereas it used to be the blog, but a blank page. I put it up, did I do something wrong? (I’m known for my poor typing; particularly after dark.)

  9. rmp says:

    I lived in Arkansas from 1966-68 and even though as a base public affairs officer who was responsible to be the link between the community and the base, I found the major players even in the small town where Little Rock AFB was located, very cliquish. As an outsider it would take a very long time, if ever, to be truly part of the inside crowd. In the times I visited Texas, mostly Austin, it seemed to be the same. The feeling of we have been in this all our lives seemed to override almost everything. That seems to me to be a significant difference from the north even in isolated states like Montana and North Dakota.

    If I’m right, and you may not agree, where do you think that stems from?

    • cocktailhag says:

      It’s an obsession with the past, rmp. Out here in the west, we don’t take the “war of northern aggression” or “state’s rights” so seriously. They do down there. Faulkner and many others wrote about it. (Jessica Mitford’s my favorite…)
      “The past isn’t dead.. it isn’t even past.” —Faulkner
      “Few seem to have died in their beds.” —Mitford

  10. rmp says:

    Agreed. Why doesn’t the North have that obsession? Is it losing the civil war or does it go beyond that?

    • cocktailhag says:

      It’s the new vs. the old. The Yankees and the rebels were the original colonists, and have just plain been around so long as to acquire almost old-world prejudices against each other…. I met this Roman guy once who was, basically, racist, against Neapolitans, a hundred and some miles away. The “frontier,” as it was back then, and where we live, lacks that reference, thank god.

    • Dirigo says:

      Well, we have had now two presidents from Texas, one a Democrat, the other a Republican. Both war presidents. One signed the major civil rights legislation of the 20th century. The other left the presidency in the hands of the first African-American president.

      Texas is not Dixie; but it’s a Southern state.

      The thing that bothers me about the last eight years – as a Northerner – is the seemingly pure expression of conservative ideology applied to policy, well beyond what Reagan tried.

      It looks destructive to me, on many levels. Looks! Shit, it was destructive. And here we are.

      And so I wonder about the man from Illinois. Can he get a proper balance back, make the government work again?

      Provide for the legitimate commonweal?

      In my time in Texas, and now after eight years with a Texas Republican president, I don’t feel that government, working on behalf of the commonweal, is what those ol’ boys are about, whatever the past may be.

      What will be the nature of Southern political strategy in the new century?

      They’re re-forming. It’s only a matter of time.

      What bother’s me is, that despite everything, Bush may emerge as a gray eminence within the GOP in a fairly short time.

      The legacy project will yield a father figure.

      • rmp says:

        One problem with your argument. Junior is not or never will be a Texan. His problems emanate in his brain not the soil of Texas. He was the puppet of a ghoul from the west probably a Texan at heart.

  11. rmp says:

    So Texas is the dividing line and most of Texas, or is it all, is in the west.

    • Dirigo says:

      Oh, Cheney. Sorry. I’m trying to forget him as fast as I can.

      I think he’s a faker of the first order.

  12. cocktailhag says:

    Well, I’m not the best judge, since I get spooked within a hundred miles or so of the Mason-Dixon Line, but to me, Texas is the South. The Bigotry, the accent, and the parafascist feeling. it’s all there.

  13. cocktailhag says:

    No, I’ve only been to Houston and Dallas. I liked neither. I’ve heard that San Antonio is nice, too… It’s that state around it that scares me.

    • rmp says:

      That’s the other town I am most familiar with. It’s a total military town and since our military has experienced the world, it is not really Texas.

  14. cocktailhag says:

    Yeah, Texas seems too big to me to be a cohesive state. Hell, Oregon seems too big. Here along the cascades, we’re pretty normal, but east of there, it’s Kansas, only worse. Fortunately the entire population of that area could barely fill a NASCAR stadium, so we no longer have to consider their opinions for statewide offices. Thank God.

  15. daphne says:

    Fox News is the Muzak? Best analogy evah.