A stinging piece by our Chief Analyst Bob Kincaid
In June of 1863, during the Confederate invasion of the North, as Lee’s army moved into Pennsylvania, General J.E.B. Stuart took his cavalry on a long gallivant through the countryside, confiscating goods to support the troops. In so doing, he left Lee “blind,” without intelligence as to the movements of the enemy. This blindness led Lee to eventually decide to fight at Gettysburg, where the Union forces had taken the high ground. Lee was infuriated with the disappearance of Stuart, his “eyes.” When Stuart finally returned with some wagons and provisions in tow, Lee is said to have remarked to J.E.B. Stuart “Sir, they are an impediment to me now.”
So, too, in 2005. We are at the sufferance of a leader who has, just like J.E.B. Stuart, left us blind by sending our National Guard off on an aimless, rambling gallivant to Iraq while real problems confront us at home. And Hurricane Katrina is our Gettysburg.
So would it be any surprise if Americans said to Bush what Lee said to Stuart? “Sir, you are an impediment to us now.” Bush took our first line of defense and squandered it in the filthy, stinking, bloody sands of Iraq. And now, in the hour of need, Bush tells us we must stay the course when our children cry from fear and hunger and might be otherwise helped by the National Guard he’s sent a world away. Damn him. Damn him with everything that amounts to damnation. And a little bit more.
Bush will, of course, in his privileged life, in his wealth, never experience the misery of the poor of N’Orleans. And he’d be well advised not to try to convince us that he even remotely understands their suffering. None can but those who suffer with them shoulder to shoulder. I can’t. You can’t. Bush is both intellectually and emotionally unable to. The last pain he felt was when he busted his punkin-head on the coffee table after that heroic battle with the Pretzel o’ Terror. Before that, the worst pain he felt was the crushing agony of the Sunday morning hangover after the Saturday night whiskey binge.
They say Nero fiddled while Rome burned. If Bush had been there, he’d have been selling matches.
- Bob Kincaid
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