Dubya The Weenie Roasts Our Military

Our red state president compared the Iraq debacle to the Revolutionary War yesterday in a speech before members of the Air National Guard, using our service people as props in the most shameless manner possible yet again.

I’m not going to analyze his idiotic comparison (though, if he were to have his way, I’m sure the Iraq debacle would run for at least as long as the war fought for our liberation from England), but I only want to draw attention to this pathetic attempt at humor noted here by New York Times reporter Jim Rutenberg…

Mr. Bush spent 20 minutes in the hangar, which dwarfed the crowd, shaking hands and talking with a long line of Guard members who have served in Iraq and Afghanistan and their families. He then lifted off for what his spokesman, Scott Stanzel, said would be a Fourth of July celebration at the White House that would double as a celebration of his 61st birthday this Friday.

Mr. Stanzel said Mr. Bush’s daughters and parents and his wife, Laura, would attend.

As Mr. Bush said of Mrs. Bush, “Laura sends her love — she would be with me, but I told her to fire up the grill.”

Heaven forbid that President Photo Op should be denied the opportunity to enjoy leisure time that cannot be afforded to the service people he has sent into the Iraq inferno.

Well, since this utterly empty vessel knows nothing of war (or the people fighting it), please allow me to communicate the following excerpt from this USA Today article, with an appropriate twist to the above scenario…

Sean Huze, a Marine corporal awaiting discharge at Camp Lejeune, N.C., doesn't have (post traumatic stress disorder) but says everyone who saw combat suffers from at least some combat stress. He says the unrelenting insurgent threat in Iraq gives no opportunity to relax, and combat numbs the senses and emotions.

"There is no 'front,' " Huze says. "You go back to the rear, at the Army base in Mosul, and you go in to get your chow, and the chow hall blows up."

Huze, 30, says the horror often isn't felt until later. "I saw a dead child, probably 3 or 4 years old, lying on the road in Nasiriyah," he says. "It moved me less than if I saw a dead dog at the time. I didn't care. Then you come back, if you are fortunate enough, and hold your own child, and you think of the dead child you didn't care about. ... You think about how little you cared at the time, and that hurts."

Smells bring back the horror. "A barbecue pit — throw a steak on the grill, and it smells a lot like searing flesh," he says. "You go to get your car worked on, and if anyone is welding, the smell of the burning metal is no different than burning caused by rounds fired at it. It takes you back there instantly."

And this cretin actually celebrates a birthday tomorrow – I’m still waiting for his response to this post, and I know I’d better keep waiting.