And I do not exaggerate here, for the utter stupidity and cowardice of george w. bush is legion, and would fill a million million-paged books, if the rank and bloodstained core of a villain could ever be spelled out more clearly than it is already on the twitching and conflicted visage of the Decider.
Why do I say this today?

Well, we talk a lot about how more troops are dying because Bush sticks to the party line. And it becomes a bunch of words we use to bolster the anti-war argument. But I guess it just hit me all at once. That he is feeding human life into a hole of death; that he knows this, and that he chooses it instead of telling the simple truth. He chooses death for your neighbor or your son or your son's son, or your son's friend or your friend's daughter—or all of them, instead of telling the truth. Which has been given to him in so many shapes—the voice of the people as heard in protest, the Iraq Study Group, common sense, the Iraqis....the American polls. Not only does looking at the truth tell us that he knows what it is like to fear losing your life in a pointless war (see: Bush's scrubbed and lied-up military record), but that he will send others there, now that he sits on a sunbeam carpet.

This man damn well knows that many, many lives are being snuffed out (at this very moment), and will continue to be ground down into bonemeal and all because he refuses to let the public catch its breath, bring the soldiers home, and admit the war was a horrible, horrible error. He is a coward of monumental proportions, and his own shadow dwarfs him. Bush believes that this denial, this obstinacy, this criminal refusal to face the truth while in office is the formula to preserving his legacy and avoiding the storm of accountability that awaits. This smirking imp pops his pills and slurs out his well-worn propaganda to the crowds...and I don't even think he believes a word of it. He knows the game is lost. We all know it. We allllll know that this will be another Vietnam, another "regretful war," another error and it will spawn Oliver Stone movies and books and monuments and empassioned speeches about what went wrong. You and I know it, and he knows it. And yet he hunches on, slouches on, surges on. And yeah, this "Surge" is the most cynical and murderous stalling tactic ever seen, and this criminal—given his crown by the once-relevant SCOTUS—is happy to have devised a plan that requires thousands of troops be squeezed into the grinder of denial. Because it takes the heat off him. And that's more important than standing up and admitting that he has failed at this job just like the other jobs, just like the baseball team, just like Arbusto Oil. Because he—george w. bush—is a fucking loser, and now it's not just his own reputation that is dead in the water, it is near 100,000 1,000,000 Iraqis liberated from their lives, and over 3,000 Americans...and counting. Nixon killed 21,000 with his cowardice and adamant refusal to face facts.

How many dark notches will you carve on your own bedpost of conscience, O, Decider?

I can't even get into his fancy dinners or fake "looking for the WMDs" video type stunts because that's the point at which my good blood boils over and I am overcome with the need to take this creature apart with my own hands, and in my dreams that's what I do. I string apart his tendons-striated-with-madness with my own naked fingers, shred them like a rotted chicken in a pool of clotty fluid upon my plate, palms wet and knuckles deep into the flaking and baked blood-gunk, for he has Iraqified my own sense of sanity and reason with his delusional International mayhem; Five years of anti-sense, and in my dearest dreams I yank apart a skinny, spoiled, stringy carcass of evil, I don't even bury it, just throw it on the road, let the trucks roll over and splinter the foul shape into a dusty and uncelebrated memory.