Kennedy Death Day
The celebrations will commence shortly. Idiots can celebrate his life. Thinking people can celebrate his death. The runt of the litter outlived all the others. Highly unusual.
As the old, old saying goes: Good riddance to bad rubbish.
UPDATE: I was turning over in my mind my line above about the runt of the litter when I had the revelation. This was the Kennedy that was not worth killing. Of course the people of Massachusetts hold him in awe which says more about them than about him. It's really time for the Kennedy mythos to die.
Showing posts with label bile. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bile. Show all posts
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Monday, July 06, 2009
Good Riddance
Robert Strange McNamara, the man who took his success in producing the Ford Falcon all the way to the grotesque fiasco that was the Johnson Administration's pursuit of the Vietnam war has died. He lived far too long. I recall that some years ago, this sad, bitter man published a book about how he had been misled by those around him which caused the debacle that cost over 50,000 lives of good, young American men. My late father was still alive when this pathetic attempt at blame laying was made. My father who went to Vietnam as a civilian and ended up spending five years in captivity in the north. My father the career foreign service officer who went a war to direct pacification programs. I talked with my dad, perhaps too briefly, when McNamara came out with his self-serving revisionism. My father was there, in the room as it were, when those people McNamara was accusing of lying to him were telling him the truth about what was actually going on. And my father watched McNamara destroy their careers.
That's right. The son of a bitch was told precisely what was happening but it didn't fit with what he wanted to happen, with his bean-counting measures of success like "body counts." So he ruined the careers, possibly the lives as well (though good men can usually overcome such career destruction), of those he would later accuse of making him look bad.
I'm glad you're dead you bastard. A lot of better men than you never made it back.
Robert Strange McNamara, the man who took his success in producing the Ford Falcon all the way to the grotesque fiasco that was the Johnson Administration's pursuit of the Vietnam war has died. He lived far too long. I recall that some years ago, this sad, bitter man published a book about how he had been misled by those around him which caused the debacle that cost over 50,000 lives of good, young American men. My late father was still alive when this pathetic attempt at blame laying was made. My father who went to Vietnam as a civilian and ended up spending five years in captivity in the north. My father the career foreign service officer who went a war to direct pacification programs. I talked with my dad, perhaps too briefly, when McNamara came out with his self-serving revisionism. My father was there, in the room as it were, when those people McNamara was accusing of lying to him were telling him the truth about what was actually going on. And my father watched McNamara destroy their careers.
That's right. The son of a bitch was told precisely what was happening but it didn't fit with what he wanted to happen, with his bean-counting measures of success like "body counts." So he ruined the careers, possibly the lives as well (though good men can usually overcome such career destruction), of those he would later accuse of making him look bad.
I'm glad you're dead you bastard. A lot of better men than you never made it back.
Friday, May 29, 2009
In Which I Reveal Mysel To Be An A-hole
I want to sue God to get back the hour of my life spent watching the national spelling bee. Just spell the word, kid! How frickin' many times do I have to hear "use it in a sentence," "are there any variant pronunciations," "what is the etymology?"
Let's just call this nerd-fest the "National Televsion Show of Words You Will Never Have A Use For In Your Whole Gotdam Life" and be done with it. Not that spelling is unimportant. I honor those who can spell properly in their writing life. But the the TV show? Feh. Go away.
I want to sue God to get back the hour of my life spent watching the national spelling bee. Just spell the word, kid! How frickin' many times do I have to hear "use it in a sentence," "are there any variant pronunciations," "what is the etymology?"
Let's just call this nerd-fest the "National Televsion Show of Words You Will Never Have A Use For In Your Whole Gotdam Life" and be done with it. Not that spelling is unimportant. I honor those who can spell properly in their writing life. But the the TV show? Feh. Go away.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
