From: gwb
To: Hank Blakely
Sent: Monday, June 10, 2002
Subject: Does good defenses make good neighbors?
It is at times like what we got now that I comfort myself with a sayin':
"There is a time and tide in fortunate men's eyes, which taken at the flood gates, hails a blithe spirit that slouches toward Bethlehem,"
Might be I'm mixin' it up a little, but it means it's hard to surprise a man what keeps his butt to the wall.
My mind been consumed by thoughts a' surprise lately 'cause we been gettin' so many, and ever'one uvvem poses a puzzlin' condom.
The first condom is, was I or wasn't I in the loop on the 9/11 warnin's? A good question, but I can't see how answerin' it would aid the general welfare.
Second condom is upcomin' terrorist attacks which more and more people seems to think less and less of. Guess people 'd believe it if we had a attack, but then there'd be a lotta whinin' 'bout how come all the money spent and liberties suspended didn't do no good.
But ol' Tom Ridge is the biggest condom we got. Puttin' Tom up at Homeland Security was only meant to be what you call a soporific to public sentience. Nobody was meanin' to give Tom actual power over nothin' more important than which way his desk was facin' -- which, to be honest, is somewhere near the top a' Tom's range. Then last week I come to find out we was escalatin' him to cabinet-level. Now, I love ol' Tom like a brother -- lots better, actually -- but this is like puttin' Howdy Doody in charge a' Three Mile Island.
Only fact that take the sting out a' it is, irregardless a' who's in charge, the idea ain't got no more chance than a Kleenex in a thunderstorm.
I figure right at this very minute ain't no fewer than 10,000 Washington folk thinkin' 'real hard bout how to kill this thing off 'thout leavin' fingerprints. It don't take no genius to see why. First thing is that the whole government peckin' order would go down the porcelain. From Cabinet level down to broom-closet boy, wouldn't nobody be sure whose ass to kiss and whoms to kick.
Second, this ain't like gluin' together the Department a' Defense, which was hard enough, but even there the services had pretty similar concerns. Now you gotta hog-tie ever'body from nuclear scientists to folks who looks for Boll Weevils at the border? It ain't what you would call a "community a' mind". And eventually some a the puppies 'd figure out they wasn't enough nipples to go 'round, and then there'd be trouble.
And what about Congress? Breakin' up all them agencies is gonna raise partic'lar hell, 'cause if they is one thing Congress don't like it's when you mess with their toys. And you can bet, if the plan went through on Friday, half the congressional lobbyists would be standin' 'round on Monday tryin' to figure out whose door to knock on.
I'm not the smartest guy in the world, but I got a suspicion 'bout all this. Even when Dick C don't tell me ever'thin', I can tell somethin's up when I sees a shifty look come into his eye -- you can tell the difference if you known him a while.
Y' ask me, it don't really matter whether this thing come off or not. We come to realize the Senate was about to peel back our undies in a most embarrassin' way, and this puppy had to be put together quick and quiet so we could get it announced before all the objections started comin' in.
After that, If I know my Cheneys and my Roves, it don't matter how many people objects -- in fact the more people tied up worryin' 'bout this thing -- 'stead a' what we did or didn't do 'bout 9/11 -- the better off we is.
Tell you one guy who's happy, and that's Rove. What with the Homeland shuffle and Karen's resignin', Karl's as happy as a schoolgirl at her dolly's tea party. T' other day, on my way back from Karen's packed-up office, I passed Karl's. He was sittin' there with the light reflectin' off his glasses, which made his little eyes look like two shiny quarters. Then he smiled at me with them tiny little teeth. I don't think I'm gonna walk down that way no more, It give me a creepy feelin': like findin' a rat in the birdcage. And no bird.
I hates to see Karen havin' a bad time. Which is one a' the reasons I blew up at that smartass reporter in France the other day. There was a history a' bad blood 'tween him and Karen, 'cause he one time tried to question her integrity; which ain't fair, 'cause the poor girl's got no idea in the world where she left it. I keep tellin' her, try to remember where she was when she last had it. But she says that's too far back, and starts throwin' stuff.
And then there's the global warmin'... Oh, never mind that. One disaster at a time is all I can deal with.
Sometimes I have this wonderful dream where Al gets this job 'stead a' me. Laura tells me at them times I get this beautiful, peaceful smile on my face until I wakes up.
Your pal,
George
From: gwb
To: Hank Blakely
Sent: Monday, June 10, 2002
Subject: Does good defenses make good neighbors?
It is at times like what we got now that I comfort myself with a sayin':
"There is a time and tide in fortunate men's eyes, which taken at the flood gates, hails a blithe spirit that slouches toward Bethlehem,"
Might be I'm mixin' it up a little, but it means it's hard to surprise a man what keeps his butt to the wall.
My mind been consumed by thoughts a' surprise lately 'cause we been gettin' so many, and ever'one uvvem poses a puzzlin' condom.
The first condom is, was I or wasn't I in the loop on the 9/11 warnin's? A good question, but I can't see how answerin' it would aid the general welfare.
Second condom is upcomin' terrorist attacks which more and more people seems to think less and less of. Guess people 'd believe it if we had a attack, but then there'd be a lotta whinin' 'bout how come all the money spent and liberties suspended didn't do no good.
But ol' Tom Ridge is the biggest condom we got. Puttin' Tom up at Homeland Security was only meant to be what you call a soporific to public sentience. Nobody was meanin' to give Tom actual power over nothin' more important than which way his desk was facin' -- which, to be honest, is somewhere near the top a' Tom's range. Then last week I come to find out we was escalatin' him to cabinet-level. Now, I love ol' Tom like a brother -- lots better, actually -- but this is like puttin' Howdy Doody in charge a' Three Mile Island.
Only fact that take the sting out a' it is, irregardless a' who's in charge, the idea ain't got no more chance than a Kleenex in a thunderstorm.
I figure right at this very minute ain't no fewer than 10,000 Washington folk thinkin' 'real hard bout how to kill this thing off 'thout leavin' fingerprints. It don't take no genius to see why. First thing is that the whole government peckin' order would go down the porcelain. From Cabinet level down to broom-closet boy, wouldn't nobody be sure whose ass to kiss and whoms to kick.
Second, this ain't like gluin' together the Department a' Defense, which was hard enough, but even there the services had pretty similar concerns. Now you gotta hog-tie ever'body from nuclear scientists to folks who looks for Boll Weevils at the border? It ain't what you would call a "community a' mind". And eventually some a the puppies 'd figure out they wasn't enough nipples to go 'round, and then there'd be trouble.
And what about Congress? Breakin' up all them agencies is gonna raise partic'lar hell, 'cause if they is one thing Congress don't like it's when you mess with their toys. And you can bet, if the plan went through on Friday, half the congressional lobbyists would be standin' 'round on Monday tryin' to figure out whose door to knock on.
I'm not the smartest guy in the world, but I got a suspicion 'bout all this. Even when Dick C don't tell me ever'thin', I can tell somethin's up when I sees a shifty look come into his eye -- you can tell the difference if you known him a while.
Y' ask me, it don't really matter whether this thing come off or not. We come to realize the Senate was about to peel back our undies in a most embarrassin' way, and this puppy had to be put together quick and quiet so we could get it announced before all the objections started comin' in.
After that, If I know my Cheneys and my Roves, it don't matter how many people objects -- in fact the more people tied up worryin' 'bout this thing -- 'stead a' what we did or didn't do 'bout 9/11 -- the better off we is.
Tell you one guy who's happy, and that's Rove. What with the Homeland shuffle and Karen's resignin', Karl's as happy as a schoolgirl at her dolly's tea party. T' other day, on my way back from Karen's packed-up office, I passed Karl's. He was sittin' there with the light reflectin' off his glasses, which made his little eyes look like two shiny quarters. Then he smiled at me with them tiny little teeth. I don't think I'm gonna walk down that way no more, It give me a creepy feelin': like findin' a rat in the birdcage. And no bird.
I hates to see Karen havin' a bad time. Which is one a' the reasons I blew up at that smartass reporter in France the other day. There was a history a' bad blood 'tween him and Karen, 'cause he one time tried to question her integrity; which ain't fair, 'cause the poor girl's got no idea in the world where she left it. I keep tellin' her, try to remember where she was when she last had it. But she says that's too far back, and starts throwin' stuff.
And then there's the global warmin'... Oh, never mind that. One disaster at a time is all I can deal with.
Sometimes I have this wonderful dream where Al gets this job 'stead a' me. Laura tells me at them times I get this beautiful, peaceful smile on my face until I wakes up.
Your pal,
George
Cornered!
At least they can't sneak up on you
© 2001- 2, Hank Blakely
