Sunday, October 07, 2007

If you listen real hard, you might be able to hear it...

...the sound of the world's tiniest violin playing a mournful dirge for the poor, suffering, self-absorbed cretins fleeing a leprous president like rats swarming from a sinking ship. Puleeeeez.

An Exit Toward Soul-Searching - washingtonpost.com
[snip...] Too soon, evidently, for the dreams to end. "In fact, I was dreaming about Iraq last night," she said. "And I woke up and thought, 'When do you think this will stop?' "

As President Bush's top Iraq adviser while the war sank into an abyss over the past few years, O'Sullivan lived it every waking hour -- and many of the sleeping ones. The dreams came every night, often prosaic, sometimes straight out of a war movie, filled with violence and menace. It was, she said, "all consuming."

Now she has left a White House under siege, part of a parade of longtime aides who have headed for the door in recent months exhausted, sometimes discouraged and wrestling with the legacy of their experience. Karl Rove feels guilty for leaving in a time of war, yet he wants to reinvent himself as more than simply "the Bush guy." Peter H. Wehner rues lost friendships with those estranged by the war. Dan Bartlett is relieved to shed the burden of worrying that any day could bring another terrorist attack.
Poor Meghan O'Sullivan - her beauty sleep was disturbed by political concerns over the Iraq war. And for each sheep she counted on those sleepless nights, another life was snuffed out in the hell-hole that was once Iraq. My heart pumps purple piss for ya, bitch.

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