I smell Rove poo

– I’m smelling Rove poo in New Orleans. After all, the man’s political career is at stake. What are a few black lives in N’Awlins compared to Mr. Rat’s – er, Rove’s -- career? I keep forgetting who the real President is. I really don’t think it’s Baby Huey Bushlet. I saw Baby yesterday hugging a black teenage girl, and he looked like he’d just lost his feeding bottle, his blanky, and his momma all at once.

We have to remember constantly who’s the Body and who’s the Brain. I know it’s shocking to anyone’s who’s not read Bush’s Brain (which is all about Karl Rat – uh, Rove), but I wouldn’t put it past The Rat to carefully plan and engineer the entire New Orleans debacle, from carefully neglecting to set up pre-Katrina disaster gear, to herding hundreds of thousands of poor blacks into one giant arena, and cooking them to death in the heat. And those fat rats lunging at people in the pitch dark of the Convention Center night, their fangs dripping the blood of the dead? Those rats are Rove. Rove the disease-ridden, who spends his night feasting on the dead, slinking, at first light, into a hole in the wall of the Oval Office.

This is prime Rat-Rove strategy: diverting attention from one corner of his rat hole to another. He’s done it with every new horror he’s visited upon this country. Every time we have a crisis, another crisis mysteriously appears to pull us away from the previous one. First there was the war in Iraq. Then the Social Security crisis was engineered to drag our attention away from the War. Then we moved to the Downing Street Memos and talk of impeachment of Rat Rove. So the Valerie Plame thing was hyped to drag our attention away from impeachment. But Americans began calling for the firing of Rat Rove. And then Camp Casey was set up in Crawford, and Rat Rove’s popularity began to plummet.

Whoa! We need a Gigundo Distraction to pull attention away from all this Rove-Rat bashing! How about herding hundreds of thousands of Americans into a mammoth building and cooking them to death? Yeah, that oughta do it. And let the corpses lie so we rats can feed on them, sharpen our fangs on them, spread the plague we carry in our matted, feces-laden Rat-Rove fur.

Yeah. I like that.