Ten years ago on my birthday – March 19, 2003 – America invaded Iraq. Much has happened in the ensuing decade, much of it bad, but I was struck by how little was written and discussed on the big anniversary of our trillion dollar adventure. I recall more drivel being spewed forth on the tenth anniversary of the death of Princess Diana than serious reflection on a war that claimed thousands of lives. It is not my desire to add to the millions of musings deriding the incompetence associated with the Iraq War, but rather to vilify some of the most arrogant of miscreants who pressed for the prosecution of the war. I feel the need to pile on right now.
Doug Feith, Under Secretary of Defense for Policy. Right out of central casting, Feith is the typical chicken hawk beating the drums of war without the benefit of actually experiencing warfare. He created the Office of Strategic Influence which was designed essentially to influence policymakers by submitting biased news stories into the foreign media. I can’t think of a better endorsement of Feith than that of Gen. Tommy Franks, retired Commander of the United States Central Command, who called him, “the fucking stupidest guy on the face of the earth.” And Franks knew George W. Bush as well, so that’s saying something.
Paul Wolfowitz, Deputy Defense Secretary. In addition to grooming his hair with spittle, this rodent had the temerity to suggest that Iraq’s postwar reconstruction would pay for itself through increased oil revenues. Unless we confiscate a couple trillion dollars worth of heavy crude, it ain’t happening. I love the candid shots of Wolfowitz in Michael Moore’s scathing “Fahrenheit 9/11” in which he is seen moistening a cheap plastic comb – the kind they give away in restaurant mens’ rooms along with life savers and a spritz of Old Spice – with a gob of spit. He then proceeds to run thick saliva through his wiry grey hair. That opened a whole new category of “product.”
Paul (Jerry) Bremmer, Administrator of the Coalition Provisional Authority of Iraq. A prodigious title but basically Bremmer was a simple-minded hatchet-man who dismantled the very infrastructure needed to keep Iraq from imploding after the fall of Saddam. General Jay Garner, who eventually inherited Bremmer’s turd pile, advised him, “Jerry, you can get rid of an army in a day, but it takes years to build one.” In other words, “Jerry – you ignorant slut . . . “
Ahmed Chalabi, Iraqi Minister and Lying Sack of Shit. Perhaps the most worthy of vilification, Chalabi ginned up fantastic tales of WMDs and internecine Al Qaeda plots – all of which were bullshit, and he knew it. This scumbag introduced the CIA to the unreliable source nicknamed “Curveball” who provided reams of bogus information, including fanciful descriptions of mobile biological weapons factories – more likely trucks selling falafels in the shape of ballistic missiles (or Chalabi’s nose).
Judith Miller, New York Times reporter. Miller swallowed Chalabi’s disinformation with more aplomb than Linda Lovelace could ever dream of, and then like the excellent stenographer she was, regurgitated the entire charade on the front pages of the once-great New York Times. Not only did she shill for the Bush Administration, but she devastated the reputation of the paper she worked for. When Miller indicated after a hiatus from writing front-page fiction that she wanted to come back to the Times, the public editor wrote, “The problems facing her inside and outside the newsroom will make it difficult for her to return to the paper as a reporter.” Maybe a stint on Fox should have been the logical next move for Joshing Judy.
Donald Rumsfeld, Secretary of Defense. I’m sure this bastard fancied himself a Republican version of JFK’s “best and brightest,” even though his corporate prowess was rooted more in political connections than business acumen. When Iraq ran amok following Bremmer’s dismantling of the country’s security infrastructure, Rumsfeld declared, “Freedom’s untidy, and free people are free to make mistakes and commit crimes and do bad things . . . Stuff happens.” Didn’t even have the stones to say the word “shit.” Oh, and don’t forget Don’s friendly encounter with Saddam when such an entreaty was convenient. By the way, where are the photos of Don and Saddam en flagrante delicto?
Dick Cheney, Vice President. The man is amazing. Survives a baker’s dozen worth of heart attacks, shoots a fellow in the face while quail hunting and receives (!) an apology from the poor slob for getting in Dick’s way, collects deferred salary without shame from Halliburton while occupying a position of power that allows him to bestow lucrative favors upon his former employer. My greatest enjoyment of Oliver Stone’s entertaining “W” was when Colin Powell snipes at the Dick Cheney character (played with appropriate darkness by Richard Dreyfus), “Don’t patronize me, Mr. Five Deferments.” Maybe that never happened (it was an Oliver Stone movie after all) but still juicy. I predict this cocksucker will undergo another dozen organ transplants and live to see the day when humans have adapted to climate change by evolving the ability to drink crude oil instead of water.