Hello GroovyNation and welcome to July 2007. It’s summer time and the sun here at GroovyHQ is a menacing yellow ball threatening to turn up the temperature even more; the moon a mysterious orange orb baking like a big pumpkin pie in the sky.
Casting a groovy eye around our flying ball of rock, we find our boy George, “I can see into his soul” Bush enjoying a summer breeze with Mr. Fun Pants, our Judo-loving president Putin of Russia, at the ol’ family compound in Kennebunk-something. Like Bush, Vlad counts the days until evacuating, but unlike our boy president, his people want him to stay. No one knows who wins the Kremlin until it happens; smart money avoids the pundits’ choices. Suckers are always wrong.
Georgie boy is trying to make nice after snubbing Vlad like an abandoned prom date. From the moment our president-in-thief took office, he and the Cold War cadre he marched in with circa 2001 have said to hell negotiating. Expecting some love for taking everything in stride, Putin instead got more cold shoulder — dissed even. Vlad sees George as the Bush League amateur he really is, this after Bush treated Putin like a 4th grade idiot for opposing the Iraq war. The cowboy routine after 9-11 got real old real fast for Vlad. All the while he’s been silencing dissenters one way or another (Pollonium with your tea?) and rolling back democratic reforms to an autocratic state, even took over the oil industry with hardly a peep from the Texans in the White House. America had vital interest in maintaining free markets and especially open political dialogue and opportunity in Russia, but those days are gone like summer love-ins. What the hell, Russians seem to prefer their country run by strong hands. Bottom line: Junior missed a choice chance to deepen a strategic relationship with a country we’d rather be for us than against us, because the clowns who replaced the Clintons treated the inheritors of the old Soviet Union like losers. Bummer dude.
Meanwhile, Dr. Evil aka big Dick Cheney continues to prove that his undisclosed location is another planet with the assertion that his office is sometimes in the Executive Branch and sometimes the Legislative as Speaker of the Senate, therefore is accountable to no one. Think of it as the sort of time share arrangement Dick grew out of when he cashed in at Halliburton. Does anyone still believe anything this guy says after his closest aide is sentenced to prison, Iraq has sunk to depths of Hell beyond words, and the wheels flew off his master plan to dominate the world? Ironically, the guy whom Dick told to go fuck himself now runs a committee in the Senate with subpoena power, insisting on the right to Constitutionally mandated oversight. Time to drag more rats into the light of day.
The Daily Show delivered the best take on Cheney-mania last week.
I think we’ll find out some day that Dick actually died from his third heart attack years ago, and, like Peter on Family Guy, took over the Grim Reaper’s job. Dick is certainly responsible for enough parting souls.
This Fourth of July season GroovyWriter wonders about public enemy number one, our old nemesis Osama on the lam for 9,000 days and counting. His head Bush would love to stake on the White House lawn, but don’t be so quick to wish his imminent demise: his disciples have a big funeral planned that might include fireworks. Rumor is that The Base (al-Qaeda) infiltrated American soil with a nuclear scientist and a bomb acquired off the black market before 9-11, and the date to use it is predetermined. Don’t ask about the little bird that whispered this chilling information, just know that the terrorists aren’t done yet.
Speaking of unresolved crimes, whatever happened to catching the Anthrax killer(s) of fall 2001? What are the odds after almost six years of getting a needle into them? Little bird says the FBI should be looking at white supremacist groups with virulently antisemitic views who hooked up with The Base during the late ’90s and exchanged knowledge, brought together by common cause against Israel. Knowledge might not be all they exchanged: the Ames strain of Anthrax used in the attacks is known to have slipped out of the U.S. to…ta da…Iraq, but hush hush ’cause poppa Bush’s signature is on the order. Back then our old buddy Saddam fought a proxy war against the Ayatollah. Imagine if inspectors found Ames buried in the Iraqi desert after the U.S. invasion. Bush would be a hero. No questions about pressuring the CIA or leaking an agent’s identity or lying to cover up the leak. No war at 30 percent approval and dropping. No condemnation as a breathtaking bungle of a presidency. Junior rides into the sunset with a rock-solid case for justifying the invasion to be judged by history as less of a failure, his reputation and dignity intact. But that fantasy is all but dead now that the inspectors have stopped looking.
On the topic of dead fantasies, this week marks the funeral of K. Rove’s plan to attract Hispanic voters to the red side post-immigration reform failure. Talk radio stakes claim to the killing, a fork in the side of Bush’s lame duck presidency. Around the time of the 2004 election, DJ Brain claimed that he’d set into motion a paradigm shift in the political landscape initiating an era of Republican dominance. Thirty years, he haughtily predicted, it would take before someone figured out how to beat him. Less than three years later he clings to polling that says his boss is considered by a majority of the public to be a decent fella — but otherwise an incompetent shit head. Those two talk a lot about historical justification in 20 years. Hopefully it won’t take that long to run them out of town in disgrace for their smug duplicity, blatant crony-ism, obscene pandering, sham politics, comically obtuse evasion and cynical manipulation of the public.
Not just the public but evangelicals who are realizing more every day that they’ve been duped. They wanted a fair deal for immigrants who, afraid of being unceremoniously deported, clamor to the charitable services offered by church organizations. The evangelicals take seriously the Bible’s command to be kind to strangers in your land and extend to them the same courtesy and accommodations of a native. Religious conservatives woke up in bed married to the other half of the Bush coalition: law and order Nascar lovin’ gun nuts — ahem, enthusiasts — hoppin’ mad about Jose on the other side of town sucking on the underbelly of American society. Never mind that Jose works hard night and day for his family at a job most Americans would describe as crappy, dangerous and/or arduous, and that his people are vital to large sectors of the economy like agriculture, housing and hospitality. He pays his bills and his taxes, obeys the law and might even attend a local church filled with people who extend the welcoming arms this nation is known for, a mythos ingrained into America’s self concept that apparently exists only as a fallacy. Not only is immigration souring some religious conservatives on Bush, so is his cavalier and short sighted treatment of the environment. Evangelicals want to be good stewards. They realize the threat and accept the duty, and they want a president whose idea of a green thumb is more than an ink stain (from counting money.).
Groove-eCast extends a shout out to Eric Sommer, who breezed through the neighborhood and rocked out on six different guitars. Eric claims to have met George Thoroughgood and the Delaware Destroyers in Harvard Square back in the day and did a damn fine tribute to power slide guitar. Now that’s groovy.
Groove-eCast will return next Sunday with the grooviest news of the week.