DREGULATOR, 2007 VOL. VI #2

It’s snowing in Malibu this week as the Doomsday Clock moves two minutes closer to Armageddon. Steven “Abandon Battleship Earth” Hawking scared the Bejeebus out of us again with imminent threats of nuclear winter in his spooky robot-voice, and now, not just God but even the Republicans are hurling iceballs, lightening-bolts and flaming anvils at the Administration for its curious Presidential-Face-Saving-TimeStall-To-Shuck-Iraqstrophe-Cleanup-Onto-The-2008-Democrat-Janitor-In-Chief.
In trying to grock a fortnight of frothy geopolitical events, it is helpful to look at the moments through the retarded pink Viewmaster of the entertainment industry.
The Senate Foreign Relations Committee, for example, served up some riveting “Old Rocky,” honky-on-honky violence on the Hill when they doused Condoleezza with that big ol’ bucket of ice-cold shade over the whole “Surge” thing. It was a high-juice, fist-pumping, socio-political “Flashdance” moment. It made you want to crank the C-SPAN volume up to eleven, then celebrate by running out and buying a life-size marzipan Chuck Hegel (R-NE).
This dis-inspired Dick “Whip Cheney” Vice to flash his ideological firecrotch at the cameras, saying, “You cannot simply stick your finger up in the wind and say, ‘Gee, public opinion’s against, we better quit.’”
Because, he explained, that would “validate the al-Qaeda view of the world.”
It is so awesomely Paris Hilton of Vice not to care what anyone thinks and to DickCheney-slap his critics by calling them terorrists. The “New Paradigm” of limitless executive power is totally hot — at least for next ten minutes until we’re all forced to become Chinese because we have no military leftovers.
Vice said it’s time to “Surge,” which means we’d better strap on the old Kevlar flag and get ready to rumble, unless we’re looking to get sent to that inpatient rehab in
Gitmo to treat our little Al-Qaeda problems.
Big Daddy Vice got your number, Playa Haytah.
And your phone.
And your mail.
And your bank statements, medical records, your library checkout histories, your FaceBook passwords, your favorite free Hentai sites, etc.
But it’s nice to know that Vice has us under control, even if we don’t. We must learn to appreciate the bitter grownup taste of safety, because it’s really expensive.
The Viceman Cometh! Boom! Show me the money shot while you’re down there, Ted Kennedy!
Anyway, Vice was so Vice-cold, the President pulled a total Britney and tried to copy him.
Britney, as you know, was last seen sticking it to K-Fed with her new boytoy in the Playboy suite at the Palms. One can only imagine her getting the spins in that rotating bed, hoping her spins and the bed would sync up at some point and make everything look stable.
The President is totally not that into us anymore, since we betrayed him in November. He has to spend all his time trying to control the spins, these days.
“I’m not going to change my principles,” said The President, totally only drinking Red Bull and pineapple juice.
“I’m not going to, you know, I’m not going to try to be popular and change principles to do so.”
Because he’s got bigger and better things to do. He’s a fighter of evil. He’s Bluffy, the Quagmire Stayer.
He’s gonna roll into any sovereign nation he wants, with no panties on, and Lead the Free World all over himself in the Hugh Hefner suite if he feels like it! Because he rolls that way! Booyah!
It’s his perrogrative. Peeorgative. Pergrovative. You know, that Bobby Brown thing.
At least if Mean Mommy Pelosi doesn’t takes the car keys, so he can’t drive into dangerous parts of Bustacapistan to score. Dang!
Barack Obama should probably hire the head of Housekeeping over at the Chateau Marmont as a consultant, because the world is going to be at least as trashed as Lindsay Lohan’s binge-bungalow by the time our glorious President Lush Bush and his friends get done partying on it. Everyone has to come down at some point, and it’s never very pretty.
It’s s complex world, fiends, but Trash helps us understand it.
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