THE POLITICS OF FEAR

THE MENDACITY OF KARL ROVE
By Jack Random

As the president decries the politics of fear and Orwell turns over in his grave once more, the vice president emerges from his bunker to warn the good citizens of this land that a nuclear terrorist attack looms if the senator from Massachusetts replaces his master in the oval office.

Time is running out, Mr. President. You are losing this election and, barring the unspeakable, you will lose decisively. The people have deciphered the code. You are not only a liar and a hypocrite, you have a marked tendency to proclaim the exact opposite of the truth, as if saying so repeatedly and with vigor, the people will surely accept your pronouncements as reality.

But the people have eyes and ears and cerebrums of their own. Even a biased mainstream media cannot hide an avalanche of compelling evidence forever. You claim your opponent will say anything to suit the occasion, but it was you who lied at every corner and every turn to justify a war that was neither necessary nor righteous. Over and again, you spoke of a grave and gathering threat, and then you swore you never said the words. From your mouth, we heard dire accounts of mushroom clouds, weapons of mass destruction, phantom connections to Al Qaeda, and complicity in the 911 attacks on this nation, and then you fought every step of the way to prevent the truth from emerging. It was you who twisted and distorted honest intelligence and then allowed the Director of Central Intelligence to fall on his sword for your crimes of deception.

Yes, Mr. President, we are sick to death of the politics of fear. We have lived with the politics of fear for over three years. We have taken it in with our morning coffee. We have tucked it into our beds at night. We have calmed our children after nightmares. We have held our breath for the first news of the day and we have watched our soldiers come home in coffins. We are tired of living with the politics of fear and you, Mr. President, are its champion. Karl Rove, the only adviser outside the ideologues of war you listen to, is the author. It worked its charm like a mass mesmerization during the campaign of 2002, when a crumbling economy and tax breaks for the rich were not enough to prevent a Republican takeover. But even a master can play the same tune too long and yours, Mr. President, has fallen to the level of elevator music.

If ever a president deserved to be discredited, it is you. You were placed on a pedestal and you have fallen of your own accord. When you speak of your accomplishments, you seem to forget that we live in the world you only speak of. When you say your tax cuts really favor the middle class, we do not believe you. When you claim your gift to the drug companies is actually a benefit to our seniors, we do not believe you. When you proclaim that our schools are improved with your policies of “test every child and bury the failures,” we do not believe you.

When you say, however, that there will be no draft under your administration, finally we believe you for your administration will effectively end on November 2nd.

Jazz.