Dick

"We dance round in a ring and suppose,

But the secret sits in the middle and knows."

That's what Robert Frost, who, in his later years, taught at my college while I was there, penned. I had to write an essay about it.

As Cheney flings another of his Peyronioid arrows at Obama for, in his sick view, not doing anything right about terrorists, news like this makes me think of that poem, and shake my head sadly.

Having gotten nothing right for the eight years of his presidency, having been easily lapped by the Obama administration in anti-terrorist successes, Dick still gets more air than Shaun White. And people believe him, think Obama doesn't get it, think the Dick did. What a pathetic people we are; how gullible, how easily misled; how hungrily we lap up the gruel spread before us by Foxdick, as long as it confirms our prejudices and doesn't require thought.

It's also worth noting that despite the Dickish invective, the administration kept mum on this success, in order that the intelligence gathered therefrom could be used. This is in contrast to the Cheney administrations trotting out every action ASAP, sometimes to the detriment of possible operations.

The president we need, to fix the universal destruction left behind by President Cheney: we have him, and we're being lied to at every turn by cynical people who want to stop him, and whose discredited ideas got us there in the first place. And somehow, it's working. We have a collective memory the length of the last disinformation show on Fox. Read the comments on this blog: it couldn't be clearer.

You'd think being right would be enough. But, since the wrong is killing us, it's not. I can't stand it.