posted on Sep, 18 2002 @ 09:50 AM
Not mine, but too accurate not to share. Read the below and then go reread certain posts by our resident Right Wing ultra Demagogues.
" I have a theory.
Some folks can't abide hearing criticism of their man, Preznit Dubya,
because - being someone who has faked, bullied and bluffed his way through
life; being an ignorant, simple-minded, tongue-tied moral idiot without a
shred of ability, vision, or even basic competence; being a wholly indulged,
thin-skinned manchild suffering from a profound sense of entitlement and a
soul filled to the brimming with a scorching warlust and an inbred
compulsion to expand his Will to Power at any cost - he is them, and they
are he. Therefore, any criticism of Dubya is seen to be aimed their way, as
well. That's why they seem to take it so personally.
Yes, it's true... Dubya clearly represents the ultimate fulfilment of a
certain type of citizen's frustrated power-trip fantasies. It's like a
perverse twist on that most famous scene from Spartacus: your twice-divorced
uncle who creeps everybody out with his angry drunken ramblings about
"feminazis," your Ted Nugent-blasting neighbor who mows his lawn in the
middle of the night while wearing his NRA ballcap and his "Kill 'em All, Let
Allah Sort'em Out" t-shirt, your co-worker who gets loudly upset when you
politely ask him to wear headphones while listening to Rush Limbaugh in his
obviously non-soundproof cubicle, all standing tall to declare "I am Dubya!
I am Dubya!" at the first sign of the slightest criticism of the man or his
Yer old pal is having a hard time deciding which is more ominous: that
so many people are willing to attach their egos onto an unworthy, id-driven
cypher like Dubya, or the fact that, in recent months, he's clearly come to
believe he deserves it.
The look on his face says it all. At a recent press conference, he barked at
the cameras: "It's time for the United Nations to show some backbone!" Then
he set back and smirked with a look on his face that said: "I am King Shat
of Turd Mountain, and my Preznitential pecker is a nuke-u-lar tipped
Intercontinental Ballistic Meat-Rocket gettin' ready to ride gravity's
rainbow and make some DESERT GLASS!"
Then he picked his nose. But I digress.
Actually, the more I think of it, the more connections and synchronicities
come to mind."