So then, the director of the CIA has resigned because of an extra-marital affair, and has done this resignation deed the week before he was slated to testify before Congress on that Benghazi business, which was already a dog’s breakfast sort of affair, and do you think that anybody will be curious as to how adultery has rendered Petrarus’ memory of all things Benghazi null and void, such that he can no longer testify as to what he knew (he’s no longer testifying, right?)? Sorry about the punctuation there, but some things can’t be helped.
You know, Petraeus needs to start avoiding deserted parking garages late at night, and any park benches with mysterious packages under them. CIA directors have to watch all those movies as part of their training, right?
Am I leaking foul innuendoes? No, no, I jest, but then you might say that I only say that in case some people from Our Federal Masters (with the block letters OFM on their jackets) show up and threaten me with durance vile. How dare I? sez they. Who, me? sez I. Yes, you, they retort back at me. I was just kidding, I stammer. Spent a whole paragraph making it fairly clear that I was kidding. Ask my wife. The idea that any loyal American would suspect that the president would pull a transparent stunt such as like that one? That one over there? Am I am insinuating that he is both nefarious and stupid? Get real.
Anyhow, they are to be excused for being astonished that anybody is saying something about all this. After all that was overlooked about Benghazi in the election (by virtually everybody, Romney included), the president’s highest advisors were fully justified in thinking that one of their operatives had successfully smeared inviso-cream all over it. Meantime, the Washington press corps was busy snapping sugar off their collective nose.
Had the operatives not done that, the trick with the cream I mean, the scandal would be as conspicuous as a bass fiddle in a broom closet. As a shiny black scorpion on a piece of angel food cake. As the latest developments in modern thought at a convention of Hasidic rabbis. As a dead armadillo on the settee. As a red brick in the salad. As something out of the book of Revelation at your garden party.
We are getting to the point where Jay Carney’s tongue must be blackening at the root. I have a mind that creaks while it works, but even I am starting to get the picture. Are you kidding me? I am sitting here, with eyes like prawns. Are they really going to do this?
The gods of the 51% gave Obama a pass, and four more years to make a crater twice as big, but the gods of literary irony are insisting on their due, maybe even right now, and the inner machinations of Washington are doing what they love to do, which is gang aft a-gley.
But how do you know, Mr. Conspiracy, that this simply wasn’t an odd coincidence, and that Petraeus’ adultery simply caught up with him at a bad time for the president? Because if it were the adultery only, and not the testimony, the president would have accepted his testimony with reluctance, insisting that it take effect on December 1, after Petraeus has helped us all get to the bottom of things, which the president is most eager to do. But no, Petraeus is (as we speak) wandering around Washington, holding a cardboard box with his personal effects in it, trying to steer clear of park benches.
So if you think that I think that some might think that there is some thinking to do about all this, you have plainly grasped my inner meaning.