I’m behind the curve on this, but… Karl Rove, who served as “special council to President Bush” in much the same way that the brain in its tail served as “special council to a Stegosaurus,” has resigned. Hell yeah. Bust out the good beer.
…does anyone think he’s really gone?
Maybe it’s the APP talking (American Progressive Paranoia), the sort of thing that leads to wild theories about JFK being shot by Nixon and Reagan being kept alive in a vat somewhere, but I don’t think he’s really gone. I think he’s pulling the strings, somewhere, somehow, even as we speak, moving the rook to the left and the queen to the right, planting the seeds for something unspeakable.
All I’m saying is this: next year, around election time, if someone calls you in the middle of the night asking how you’d feel if you heard that Hilary Clinton and Barack Obama had “done the nasty, hypothetically speaking of course,” you know who to blame.
Here’s Karl on Meet The Press, slinging a truly profound amount of bullshit. I’m a little disappointed that guest host David Saltandpepperhair didn’t ask the question that’s truly on everyone’s mind: was Satan the top or the bottom?
We leave you with this, the defining moment of the Bush years: Karl Rove, at the White House Correspondence dinner, obviously pickled and rapping. Yes, rapping. As in “getting down with his evil self.” And look, there’s the press getting awful chummy with this man, who at the time was under suspicion for tons of illegal and unethical stuff. They’re all having a larf.
Seeing as how the press is supposed to take an antagonistic role towards the White House, this is a little like watching Elliot Ness and Al Capone bust out a duet of “You Say Tomato, I Say Tamahto” at a K of C pancake breakfast.