O Great Oracle, what next? O Great Wizard, tell me, tell me do, over what line must I step?
"Lo, every border of every nation is a line. And the sensibilities of every people form a line. You must step over every line and every crack. Remember: step on a line, break your mother's spine; step on a crack, break your mother's back. You can't step back - so you must step over."
Thus spake the artificial voice of Henrathustra.
Deep within that eminent throat, somewhere between the brooding or quizzical eyes, lies the answer to Our Quagmire. Dr. K, author of the brilliant Theory of Vietnamic Victory, now spews more visionary dementia.
"It's not rotten - it's just overripe!" and "Iraq by any other name would pull as hard" and "When the going goes quicksand, the tough stay the course." Or sink the course, as the case may be.
From the annals of oil-soaked governmental underestimation to the hard-nosed rule of One Grim Hombre (aka Don "The Reaper"), to the plan-a-victory-party-first, fight-the-war-later-whatever Illusionist Lovefest, to the bloody streets of the Red Zone, to the hearts and minds of uninformed, backward, out-of-the-loop folks who inexplicably believe that an invasion is an invasion - what's up with that? - yes, the Bush Administration is ready for some good Mood Music!
And what better music-meister than the Grandmeister of 'em all, Henrathustra. Always the Meddle-man, getting his Wise Old Fingers on every fiddle, every Republican Club Sandwich, every Let's Defy Doomsday Pie. Bush II is all ears when it comes to the Meddle of the Road.
"Hands on!" He says. "Victory Is Near!" He says. "Death to Fascists!" He says.
And when the world reels in horror at the brazen insanity of it all, the K-Meister soothes those tense nerves and that shaken conscience with a time-tested refrain, "God is on your side. If you change your mind, everything you've done will be destroyed, and you will be shamed as a liar! You know we're right! They are the evil ones! We live a purpose-driven life, and our purpose is to meddle! When the going gets dead-end, the tough cross lines..."
Thus spake Henrathustra. "And if you're not up with that, I've got three words for ya .. Kiss my thustra!"
Well, frankly, who can argue with that? So the Grandmeister got Bush II's ears and the country's hemmorhaging red and green in a whoop-de-doo hot wing BBQ beer-keggin' Bash for Freedom where a visionary screen shows would-be terrorists NOT using the invasion of Iraq as the Mother of All Recruiting Tools (with even a real life battleground auto-start to use), but instead predicts they will suddenly be overcome with the smell of ol' BBQ pork ribs and convert to the religion of Playboy, beer and Big Screen TV. Instead of hearing Qur'an recitation, you'll find Kenny Chesney singing "She thinks my tank's sexy".
Yes, and what a realistic vision! At a cost equivalent to what it costs to run a Whirlpool dishwasher per day, we'll save Iraq from its citizens who are Dangerous Arabs that Probably Pray to Mecca and, most importantly, they Don't Love Israel as Israel Should be Loved. Ach! Well, OK, so the dishwasher is supposed to run in the Kuiper belt and we have to finance three missions to "Xena", that cute planetette next to Pluto. So the cost is astronomical. So shoot me.
But no! Behold! The whole world knows the K-Meister is a genius.
O, K-Oracle, tell us how to swim the backstroke in quicksand.
"Do it while being pulled out by a giant crane."
And where or what, pray tell, is this giant crane?
"Behold! The might of the American military is more powerful than a crane. Lo, it shall come to pass that we shall be victorious and our armies shall conquer their armies, and..."
But they don't even have an army! This is just a bunch of insurgents and terrorists and factions killing each other and we're caught in the middle!
"Did you say meddle?"
No, I said MIDDLE.
"Lo, my brethren, they are one and the same. Let's meddle in the Middle East and call it the middle of the meddling road, where victory is ..."
"No! We know what we're doing, and it's crystal ball clear that if you don't send more bodies now, we will look weak, and WE are a SUPERPOWER and THEY are not - therefore they must be shown to lose at all costs."
But what if we can't afford it? What if the American people don't want to send more bodies into a quagmire?
"Lo, I ask you, who is the Commander-in-Chief? The American people? And who is the Cash Cow? The Commander-in-Chief? Enough talk! Biased liberal media! We need action now! Stop thinking, dammit!"
Thus spake Henrathustra. And if you don't agree, you can kiss his thustra. And if you wonder why he's on the roof of the white house, well, you know how oracles hate drowning in mud. He's clean, pristine, and fairly mean - but Bush is up to his neck in muck...
"If I were a bitch, man... ta da dadadadadadadadadadadadadahhh....if I were a stealthy man!..."
Yes, and you can hear this mood music in the RNC's lobby - but please wear boots! And carry a big life jacket...