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The fate of the political animals in Washington, D.C. is becoming increasingly evident. As the ship, Bush II, sinks in the mucky mire of its own making, the rats, Rove, Gonzales, etc., are jumping overboard and swimming for shore. But what do they leave behind?

The foreign and domestic policy of the Bush-Cheney-Rove-Rumsfield alliance was the neo-white supremacist realthink in the mold of Henry Kissinger. It also fell to the same forces that humbled Kissinger and his political godfather, Nixon. Those forces are the forces of justice which may have a long arch but bend towards righteousness. A failed attempt at socially engineering a new political reality in Iraq where Baby Bush would be the new Lawrence of Arabia came as both a shock and a chastening rod to the White supremacist of the world.

There has been no change in strategy just an acknowledgement of a tactical error. The strange thing that afflicts white supremacist is the belief that only they are human. Social scientist speak of social capital and its two manifestations as bonding or bridging. The attempt to bridge Iraq to the Western (read: white) without bonding externally or internally proved to be a great folly. Without embedding the indea that resistance was futile or cooperation would be fruitful, they blundered into a hornet's nest.

There appears to not be much learning going on as a result of this latest ill-fated military and political excursion. Barak Obama is prostelyzing the goodness and greatness of the Western world (read: white) as he chases the genie of a presidential appointment. He has taken to bending he knees and bending over to service those whose throbbing libbido was not eased by fucking up Iraq. Even I am afflicted with snow blindness as I assert the candidate most likely to succeed is John Edwards.

Moving on past memories

I am not really moving on in my mind and putting memories once had aside. Neither am I taking action based on and through energy supplied by former thoughts or ideations of experiences once had and now only possessed in as much as I am possessed by them.

I am in a space that allows me to dream of a tomorrow that is only that which today is not. I feel good about what is, what was and what may be. It is a part of a larger process that affords me the chance to celebrate the existential reality that our existence exists more in our head than in our hands. We strive against the wind and try to hide from the air. But as a mother, they cuddle and nourish us. They provide succor and satisfaction.

Bush gave a state of the union speech that did not address at all the social glue that holds the union together and its current state. I mean what is he comparing it to? I think his movement is past memory and now languishes in fevered dreams.