One thing you can say for Karl Rove: He demonstrated the essential uselessness of the “high ground” in politics, except for the Republicans, who would splatter the Democrats with feces every time they moved to occupy it. The pleas to treat his divorce with respect and equanimity are coming from the same slime mold who punched Thomas Eagleton up for his bouts of depression, and who hauled Ed Muskie’s wife out into the public eye and made a hardened old-school politician weep for privacy.
The press in this country will drop to its knees and minister to Karl Rove’s needs. Of course it will. Our press is a moneyvane, and the money is always flowing in the direction of the gutter trash that have made Reaganism a fetish among the ineducable.
Karl Rove was once overheard discussing the fate of an insufficiently ass-crawling Bush Republican. My memory is a little spotty, but it goes something like this “We’ll fuck him like he’s never been fucked before.”
Speaking as a member of the opposition, all I have to say is, Rove, I hope when they get through with your slimy ass, you’ll have to pawn your stepdad’s cock jewelry to get a couple dogs of cheap wine to drink yourself into a blackout. And I hope fervently that somewhere at the edge of that blackout, David Kelly’s hungry ghost is waiting to devour your guts.

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