Tuesday, May 01, 2007

With an Armed Guard Marching Ahead

God help me, I've been watching the first season of Deadwood on DVD again. Last night, I fell asleep in front of the TV just as Al Swearengen was busting the mercy-kill on the poor, mad Reverend Smith. I slept a troubled slumber, full of half-glimpsed visions of Wu's pigs and Alma Garret's graceful neck. When I awoke in the gray light of a joyless dawn, the room smelled of cat-piss and bourbon, and on the table in front of me I found a note scribbled in an unsteady hand....

Fuckin' Wolfowitz.

Fuckin' ethics committees' schoolmarmly fingerwagging notwithstanding, I can't leave go unsaid my envy of the brass balls on the cocksucker.

Your time is not particularly noteworthy for its Christly adherence to principles of personal accountability, is it. Second Fuckin' Gilded Age, is what you're living through. Fuckin' Attorney General sits like a pastry on a pillow, flinging offal at passersby in the thoroughfare as his piss-stained employer, stupid as mud, smiles like a seraph. Washington cocksuckers who planned your own disastrous war on the Dirt-Worshippers, what do they get? Corner offices on K Street, editorial space in the papers to declare the flawlessness of their wisdom, book contracts, regular visits from painted massage therapists.

(And when your own Joanie Stubbs opens her fuckin' yap, exposing the gorgeous hypocrisy of a hosannah-moaning Christer at State -- and potentially ten thousand other miserable hoopleheads -- the town lifts its skirts and emits a yowl of outraged propriety. I give even money that Deborah Jean Palfrey meets an untimely end before Friday.)

But this Wolfowitz. Fucked up right into the presidency of the World Bank -- a capital grifter's license. Cocksucker hits on the sovereign scheme of givin' the world's poor a helping hand -- one girlfriend at a time.

Gotta admire that. A bunco artist is nothing without a pair of ironclad balls, and Wolfie's clang together like churchbells when he walks. See something you want, you fuckin' take it -- let the rabblement wave their arms and gibber at your effrontery. Such exercise is capital for the fuckin' constitution. When the gentry look askance at your appropriation, you reply calmly and with clear-eyed honesty that the fault, dear Brutus, is not with us but with the cocksuckers who want to stand between your mighty office and blessed relief for the world's starving.

This is the awful genius of the grift: the World Bank's fuckin' charter is to spread the money around to the masses -- any fuckin' hooplehead in a blue suit could be its presiding Solon. Wolfie's spent his career conning bone-stupid cocksuckers into belief in his infallible wisdom, despite ample evidence to the contrary; it's how he got the fuckin' job in the first place. To claim that your intellectual endowments are so fuckin' magisterial that a casual con should be posthaste overlooked is an act of audacity that takes balls the size of fuckin' watermelons. He probably has to carry them around in a wheelbarrow, with an armed guard marching ahead to shoo away stunned onlookers.

Can't say that's a bad way to make a living.

18 comments:

Anonymous said...

America's shadow army in Iraq
By Jeremy Scahill

http://www.salon.com/opinion/feature/2007/05/01/shadowarmy/index.html

The Viscount LaCarte said...

Nice to have you back Ned. Maybe 1,000,000 bloggers writing for 1,000,000 years won't change the world, but your post was better than any commentary I've read on the subject to date.

I'm linking to it - maybe 2 or 3 other people will get enjoy it as a result...

JD said...

You do great Al. There is no higher compliment.

Kevin Wolf said...

Is Al willing to move to Washington and, uh, make some changes?

XTCfan said...

Kevin, why in the world would Al want to change anything in DC? He'd simply want to run things for his own benefit.

But at least he's honest about it.

Neddie said...

Viscount: Thanks for the link! What about if 569,247 bloggers write for 346,946 years -- do you think that might better the odds?

Thank you very much, JD. It's an annoying personality trait, I find: When I immerse myself in a writer or a character's speech patterns, I find them popping out the other end. When I go into my one of my regular, periodic Wodehouse jags, I wind up testing my family's patience with Bertie-Woosterisms. They're damned funny to me, but I can imagine that living with somebody who thinks it marvelous fun to pretend he's an Edwardian twit might get a bit tiresome.

Kevin, XTCfan: Al's a marvelously complex character, isn't he: Clearly, he's out entirely for himself, but if his own aggrandizement helps a society to develop laws and mores, who's to say that's such a bad thing? It's when the Paul Wolfowitzes of the world apply Al's philosophy to real-world situations, that's when real people, not fictional characters, actually get hurt. Time to get Dan Daugherty to employ his hunting knife...

Neddie said...

And that Daugherty spelling might be better rendered "Dorrity," but that might be pedantic.

The Viscount LaCarte said...

I guess I need to start watching the show on DVD.

How about that though? I loved the post, and just thought it was Ned in a very_pissed_off mood...

Will Divide said...

Season One of Deadwood might be the greatest Western ever made, though-admittedly-not judged on the same plain as, oh, Unforgiven or She Wore a Yellow Ribbon.

What I love about Al's gang is that, distinct from the other bad guys, they kill exclusively hand-to-hand. Guns are just too easy, too impersonal for their tastes.

Neddie said...

Viscount: Now I finally understand your consternation: I never actually mentioned the name Al Swearengen in the post! And you, not being familiar with the show... It all comes together now.

Will: Back when Deadwood was on the national radar screen, some wingnut trumpeted about how the town was ruled by the Law of the Gun, and that's how you bring peace to an anarchic situation. It was subsequently pointed out that there been precisely one incident of the Gunplay of Justice -- Wild Bill killing the murderer of the Squarehead family. All other Justice Killing is actually done with knives, or by throwing people off cliffs. That is, until the third season, when the forces of Malign Capital in the person of George Hearst start taking potshots at Alma Garret from behind cover, to get her to accede to Hearst's demand for her claim.

The Gun is a tool of Capital.

Neddie said...

Jesus, Anonymous, I just read that Scahill article you linked to.

Fuck, that's depressing.

What was I just saying about the Gun as the Tool of Capital?

Will Divide said...

Hey! Spoiler. I've not gotten around to season 3, as it has yet to hit DVD. But anywho...

You forget Toliver shooting the girl who stole from him in season Uno.

Neddie said...

You're right, Will. Forgot that one.

I guess it's just Dan Dority who kills with knives. But now I remember him with not one but two guns trained on the Yankton Cocksucker in Season One. But the YC died with his throat slit.

JD said...

Cy was never on my "A" list, so I don't count him.

Al was a great proponent of knife work as well. Remember him telling Hearst, "I work better close in and threatening Doc with "I wield the blade good with my left hand"?

June for Season Three. I don't know about anyone else, but I've pre-ordered. Damn, I miss Al....

JC said...

But Tolliver's shooting of the female con-artist and her "brother" were actually pseudo "mercy killings." They were about to die anyway. His henchman had beaten her so badly her brain was, literally, exposed, and Tolliver even poked some of her gray matter at one point. Not quite the same as when Wild Bill used a firearm to actually effect the killing of the murderer of the Norwegian square-head family.

XTCfan said...

I'm with ya, Will and JD ... Season 3's on the top of my Netflix "to be released" queue, and I can't wait for June...

Woody Bombay said...

Early on in, I think, the very first episode, Al nonchalantly sidles up beside Dan and, as if he's reminding him to pick up a jug of milk, says "Don't forget to kill Tim." Then he blinks slowly and walks off.

That is when I fell head-over-heels for Al Swearengen.

Anonymous said...

Swin-gen... Cocksuckah... San Francisco!

Funny stuff, Neddie!