Politics: Here’s Turd Blossom, Meddling Yet Again

W. May Not Be on the Ballot, But Look What He’s Bequeathed Us

It’s easily understandable and excusable if you, like everyone else, thought this presidential race was a two-man contest.

Silly you. What were you thinking? You left somebody out.

You neglected to include Karl Rove, the third man in this race. Deeply entrenched in it, like cow chips up to his cowboy boots, he’s proven one man too many for this race.

You see, Rove is the conniving, interloping, malevolent mastermind behind American Crossroads, the 527 Super PAC that has blanketed electoral battleground states, Florida among them, with surly, snarling advertising screeching to voters, among other dubious charges, that Obama has killed off small businesses and Sen. Bill Nelson voted to slash Medicare.

You’d have to have been in a coma all summer and fall not to have heard the name of this group mentioned at the tail end of all its repetitiously-broadcast ads.

Those of you whose TV sets still function – that is, you haven’t yet pulled an Elvis Presley and unloaded a gun into yours after the incessant negative commercials now airing, a good deal of them American Crossroads-sponsored – should be well familiar by now with a lot of the ammo that Rove has fired into this race from his six-shooter.

It’s been almost four years since his boss vacated the White House, but Rove never said goodbye to politics like W. did. Rove never holstered his gun, hung up his ten-gallon hat, or galloped off on his horse at the end of the Bush years. His hand is as meddling and involved in the nation’s politics as it ever was.

This week it was announced that two PACs created by “Turd Blossom” (W.’s apt nickname for his former senior advisor and one-time White House deputy chief of staff) – American Crossroads and the affiliated Crossroads GPS – shelled out a combined $124 million on ads so far in this campaign, more than any other PAC.

Rove’s PACs are third behind only the Obama and Romney campaigns in terms of most ad spending.

And coming soon to a TV screen near you: a new Crossroads commercial, aimed at women, paid for by the additional $11 million that the PAC has announced this week it is funneling into the race.

The general behind one of the dirtiest, rottenest campaign tricks ever in recent history – the one he deployed on behalf of W. against primary opponent John McCain in South Carolina in 2000 in which McCain was whispered to have been the illegitimate father of a black child – Rove has never left the scene of the crime. That would be national politics. He just keeps coming back for more, more meddling, more interloping.

And the more he hangs around, the stinkier things stay.

Want no more of the negative ads? Won’t happen as long as Rove’s around. Wish 527s like his would just dry up and die? Won’t happen as long as Rove’s around. Wish the mud that was flying in this race and the big money that was fueling it would disappear?

Won’t happen as long as Turd Blossom’s around.

In the Lone Star State, that’s what they call the flower that sprouts from out of a lump of cow dung.

W. called it right.

MISH MASH

Shameful: Local Univision channel 23 injudiciously chose to broadcast a soccer game instead of Tuesday night’s presidential debate. Spanish-speaking viewers (unless they tuned in to an English language network) missed out on hearing the candidates’ thoughts on, among other items, immigration reform. Way to go Univision, you priority-deaf dumbasses.

“Bizarre” best describes embattled U.S. Rep. David Rivera’s Sunday appearance on Michael Putney’s Local 10 show. And you thought Joe Biden interrupted a lot? Rivera barely let his host and interlocutor get in a word edge-wise. And then, when Rivera insisted on playing an audio recording of a phone message allegedly left on the voice mail of a Miami Herald reporter by an informant in an investigation against Rivera…. This viewer had to frequently remind himself that this wound-up, strange-behaviored character is a U.S. congressman, not a criminal defendant (well, not yet anyway).

At long last, the Venetian Causeway is done and repaved, putting an end to bumpy rides and construction-caused traffic detours and slow-downs. Residents and causeway travelers alike have good reason to rejoice. The results look and feel terrific. Thanks, Miami Beach and county public works departments.

It truly is the advent of the holiday season already! MacArthur Dairy has made me merry by stocking the first egg nog of the season on store shelves.

You can just scrub out all those references to the disgraced Lance Armstrong as a “7-time Tour de France winner” and replace them with the more appropriate “grand disappointment.”

In line at the Arsht Center box office to buy a ticket to a seat in the nosebleed section for last weekend’s performance of “Rock of Ages,” I was approached by a couple. We’ve got an extra ticket available and don’t want it to go to waste; would you like it? they asked. So I bought it from them, then took my seat right smack in the center of the second row in the pit, nearest the stage. Couldn’t have asked for a better view (and this one, at one point in the show, came with handfuls of glitter raining down upon us from a cast member). Thanks again to that couple for making my night.

Where was it you went, Mitt? Office Depot? Staples? Office Max? Where can I find me a binder of women?

HOW SICK IT IS

 Teenager Malala Yousafzai lays in a UK hospital bed recovering from bullet wounds to her head and neck, having been transferred there from her native Pakistan days ago. The bullets were put there by a Taliban assassin last Tuesday as she stepped off her school bus.

“This made me cry,” Madonna told her concert audience in Los Angeles last week as she dedicated a song to Malala. “The 14-year-old schoolgirl who wrote a blog about going to school. The Taliban stopped her bus and shot her. Do you realize how sick that is?”

Two summers ago, in response to the Taliban slaughter of ten humanitarians – doctors, dentists, nurses, teachers, and social workers – who had been plying their talents in Afghanistan, treating local citizens, I wrote of what the international community should have regarded the Taliban as and how it should have punished them.

My sentiments are as unwavering today as they were adamant then.

I re-run them because it is worth reminding ourselves of what these evil sons-of-bitches are capable of. It is also worth noting that had this nation and its allies in that war been executing and exterminating this breed of brute right from the get-go, we’d now have fewer of these maggot sh-ts contaminating that part of the world.

And a young girl – as well countless other men, women, and children in the last decade and more – might not have fallen victim to these despicable excuses of human beings –

There is only one way in which to deal with these Taliban sh-ts. You kill them. Kill them till they’re dead, dead, wholly dead, and till every last one of their rat nests is extinguished, too.

Our military forces need to be turning captured Taliban – whatever ones that don’t have the good luck to die in combat – over to the Afghan authorities, not to be imprisoned, then eventually let go. Or to have the opportunity at a prison break and escape.

No, these vermin need to be caught, tried, and executed. Every. Last. One. Of. Them.

This is the only way this boil upon society’s ass can logically, realistically be lanced. For those who blanch at the penalty of death, know this, accept this, wrap your minds around this: Evil of this nature cannot co-exist with peace-aspiring, peace-loving peoples, societies, and nations. There are some among us who are so vile, so contemptuous of life, that they will kill to spread their noxious religious and cultural stupidities.

They will blow up cars in crowded marketplaces, ambush innocents – adults and children alike – in their homes and in public places, and kidnap and behead hostages.

You don’t negotiate and make peace with these depraved monsters. You don’t rationalize, hand hold, or try to find common ground with them. You don’t attempt to feel their pain. You make them feel pain.

You take them out. You remove them from this world. You kill them. Before they kill you.

This is the only apparent way we will ever solve the Taliban problem. And as we near the beginning of the tenth year that we’ve been at war against them – ten years – we need to apply this solution. These are not zealots who will soften their extremist, demented views of other people and the world around them. They cannot be pacified, or persuaded toward moderation. Their threat to Afghanistan, and to the world at large, will only dissipate once they are gone. Physically gone

Not chased into caves and mountains in some no-man’s-land region on the Afghan-Pakistani border gone. Not allowed to escape and blend in, undetected, among the teeming urban masses in cities like Kandahar or Karachi gone.

No. Gone. Not a trace to remain of them and their ugly reign of terror save for web pages, news videos, history books, and the receding memories of their victims.

To believe otherwise – to lull ourselves into the notion that these heinous bastards can ever somehow be reformed or rehabilitated – is a fool’s fancy. A deadly one at that.

When you find your home invaded by roaches or mice, you don’t cut a deal to give the vermin the kitchen and the pantry while leaving you the rest of your house.

You exterminate them entirely.

You don’t need some holy scripture, or some religious mantra, to justify executing the Taliban. You need only this: For the sake of permitting men, women, and children who desire to live in peace to do so, you rid that country, that region, and the world of those who are a threat to that peace.

The only justification one needs. No god, no Bible, no Koran, no Talmud, no prayer, invocation, or commandment involved. Just the simple principle that those among us who have no compunction about killing others (and who have done so and would continue to do so) must be removed – permanently – from the general population. No exceptions.

And you don’t hesitate, procrastinate, equivocate, balk, whimper, or dither. No quivering upper lip, no getting squeamish and turning away, no flinching. You do it and move on.

Now we could wait them out till every single one of them dies a slow, natural death from old age (thankfully, for us, the Afghan life expectancy is just 43) and is too feeble to pick up a Kalashnikov rifle, wire a suicide bomb, or toss a grenade. But how many others of their ilk will these vipers spawn in the meantime? How many of their future offspring might take up their fathers’, brothers’, and uncles’ grudges, then take up a gun, then take up a mission to kill? Let’s not wait to find out

Cheryl Beckett’s grieving family said that the group’s attackers “should feel the utter shame and disgust that humanity feels for them.” Right on.

But ultimately they should also feel the uncomfortable scratchiness of a nylon rope pulled taut around their necks. Or of sharp, hot bullets from a firing squad slamming into and ripping up their torsos. Such would be the justifiable coda to the nefarious lives of these piss-poor excuses of men.

It is the only way that crazy, murderous zealots who claim to have the eye of a god or prophet trained on them – as well his instructions in their hearts – will ever listen to reason. You reason with them by sending them straight to the hell they deserve. Period.

About Charles Branham-Bailey

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