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The
PNAC Gallery
July 1, 2004
Project for a New American Century
Awhile back the Little Woman figured
out how to get my mind offa some things (her) and on ta other things. She bought me a computer and got the local dial-up guy
ta show me how ta git on the Internet. Once I got the hang of it, among other things, I discovered Google and Google News
(what a dang goofy-soundin name), and started enjoyin myself. Danged if I wasn't becomin an informed electorate!
"So,"
she told me with that look she gits, "you wanted to know what a neocon is? Well honey, paste this URL (www.newamericancentury.org)
and click "go."
So I did. I clicked, I saw The Project For the New American Century (PNAC), and I read. I even kept
readin after I realized I'd spend my time in a better way by fishin or chasin after the Little Woman...
Dang! I think
PNAC must be one of them there Ivory Towers I've heard about from time to time. Only this tower don't even sound like ivory
to me, more like some kinda fragile rose-colored glass.
I read their declarations about what they think they know
and what they think they stand for. And I read their letters to Mr. Clinton and Mr. Bush goin back to 1997. I read all their
big plans involvin how we need to police up the trouble spots around the world cause we're the toughest thing next to the
Almighty on this planet.
These PNAC Galleryites seem to think that the world is like recess at grade school and the
U.S. of A are the biggest toughest Sixth Graders than run the schoolyard. All them fifth graders and younger better do what
we say. We only let them other kids play what we want em to play, where we want em to play and when we want em to play.
PNAC'ers
look like the kinds of intellectchals I could beat at Combat Scrabble. They'd be spendin too much time trying to put together
eleven-letter words and I'd be cleanin up with my little threes or fours.
And what they've been writin! I suspect
that in order to get accepted into the club ya have to have credenchals - ya know - the kinda things that mean you're smart
or know what yer talkin about. I'll bet you that you aren't even CONSIDERED to be worthy of joinin that club until you've
played and won at least 10 games of Monopoly and 10 games of Risk.
And the way some of em write, to win 10 games of
Risk they had to play at least 100 times. That would explain all that high-falutin writing about economics and "America's
Global Responsibilities."
Whatever happened to our honorable thinkin that we don't start wars, we end em?
About
a year ago one them eleven-letter-word guys named Schmitt wrote about Shock'n and Awe'n and compared America to Marshall Will
Kane in the movie "High Noon," as some sort of warrior who can't get the other townfolks ta help im.
Made me remember
a better movie to illustrate what America has stood for: The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance. In that one, John Wayne got rid
of the bad guy - Lee Marvin - and then minded his own business while James Stewart, the lawyer politician, cleaned up the
mess and made the community a better place.
I'm downright curious as to how many of them folks in that glass tower
has actually wore a military uniform and got it dirty. They talk fast and loose about American military power wandrin about
all over the world cleanin clocks and tellin tyrants how the cow ate the cabbage.
Mr. Duck Chaney says he had other
priorities when he had the same chance during his prime manhood age to join up like a real patriot. I hear today that this
real patriotic draft avoidin vice president is slanderin Mr. Kerry while Mr. Bush has been pretendin that he looked like Mel
Gibson in Braveheart when he was young enough to become a real warrior. Makes me laugh even tho it ain't no laughin matter.
Danged campaign commercials have gotten tedious and embarrasin.
When PNAC'ers talk about it you get the idea that
troops don't mean nothin more to them than the little red, white and blue wood blocks in the Risk Game or the little green
plastic houses and red hotels in Monoply. Seems like to these guys livin breathin troops don't exist - only wooden blocks.
Seems like to these guys people who lose jobs or try ta live without medical benefits are nothin more than little
metal top hats, race cars and horses.
These ain't the guys you'd want on a camp out, that's fer sure. Take them along
and you'd have to chop all the wood, build the fire, help em put up their tents, and sing cowboy songs to em when it gets
dark, quiet and scary in the woods. Probably have to bait their hooks, untangle their lines and hold their hands while they
reel in a fish. Dang certain I'd have to gut the fish for em since there'd be guts involved.
Their statements and
their letters to Mr. Clinton and Mr. Bush were all signed (well, their names were at the bottom). In the 1990's those names
included Chaney, Rumsfeld, Wolfowitz and Perle - all names I recognize from the news as PNAC members doin the thinking for
Mr. Bush.
I'm tellin ya, these drug-store warriors ain't the ones we oughta be trustin.
Well,
I'm curious now. Think I'll go get Google to show me all the smart things Flush Limbaugh, Squawk Hannity, Factor O'Reilly
and Anxious Coulter have said lately. It don't seem that any of them have yet qualified by winnin their ten games of Monopoly
and Risk.
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Foreign Tongues and Elections
Saturday July
24, 2004
Back where I was born the old home town is celebratin
Brigham Young day. On July 24th, 1847, Mr. Young is sposed to have said "This Here's the Place."
I always suspected
that since he was known to have brought one a his wives with him, she probably answered back - "Brig, this is neither the
time nor the place!"
Whatever.
I'm writin today cause the little woman made me read one of the opinions from
across the big waters. She thought there was somethin interestin in what them Europer's are thinking. So I took her place
at the computer and read from somethin called "The Observer"How the World can give Kerry a Helping Hand.
Says there that if the world could vote, Kerry'd be elected not by a
landslide, but a avalanche. But they can't cause like when we watch the Super Bowl and can't stop that young lady from showin
off her delights at half-time while all our self-appointed morality sheriffs grandstand about, they have to watch and
let others do the talking while the action goes on.
Then the Observer person writes that the Republicaners are making
a thunderstorm over the fact that Mr. Kerry speaks French which "surely must make him a suspect potential leader of the free
world."
Whyizzat?
This smacks agin of Bush be'in agin intellectchals. He don't even speak English that well
hisself. Even Mr. Jay Leno says Bush's spanish is better'n his English. In fact, I ain't sure just what English Mr.
Bush speaks.
His drawlin Texas talk sure sounds like the drug-store cowboy kind a talk more'n the real thing. You
can just bet that if there's cow poo on his boots it got there cause he stepped into it by accident and not cause he was shovelin
anything or milkin anything.
Speakin of talkin the talk and walking the walk, what happened to all that high falutin
God talk we were hearing in past months?
Now we got Mr. Duck Chaney talking like the poker losers at the Elk Snout
Tavern with his go F*** yerself only to have God's personal political mouthpiece, Mr. George Armstrong Custer Bush tell Duck
not to sweat the small stuff and if people don't like that corner-of-the-mouth sneer sayin the F word, then "F em!"
Kerry
speaks French? Well bless him fer that!
Ole Dubya has been so saintly about him and God talkin about war that I thought
he surely talked Yahweh talk or Arimayic or however you pronounce it. Certainly George can talk the language his holy Bible
was first written in - unless of course some dude like Franky Graham or Pat Robertson or Ralphy Reed already speak it
and translated when God was tellin Dubya ta go ta war and not sweat collateral damage.
I ain't read where any a them
there neoconstipators speak Iraqian or Farsi or Arabic while they were pretendin to know enough about that Middle East
to tell us that Iraqis'd throw flowers in the soldiers path after they get all shocked and awed.
So bless ya John
Kerry!
If ya speak French and married that fine-lookin and strong actin Mrs. Kerry and chose that sweet-talkin Southern
lawyer guy ya certainly are gonna have more than one viewpoint to consider.
© Arthur Ruger 2004
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