So, it appears that there's growing evidence that there were some good old fashioned weapons of mass destruction kicking around inside Iraq since 2004, just like Mr. Rumsfeld, the army, and CNS News said there would be.
They just keep popping up, like hydras out of the sand, a few here and a few there, to buttress Mr. Bush's early wild inflammatory assertions about their existence before we invaded poor benighted Iraq - a country, in the eyes of the liberal media, far better off hanging from the genteel meat hooks of a psychopathic inquisitor and his various Iraqi versions of the Ton Ton Macoutes. (Though he may have envisioned a similar apocalypse towards the end, not even Papa Doc employed poison gas against his own people.)
But as we watch and wait for the mainstream media to do nothing about the growing revelations of their discovery, they pay no attention to the comments by Senators Rick Santorum and Peter Hoekstra, the translations of Saddam's reports, the growing body of evidence, and the fears that other delivery systems and agents may yet fall into the hands of the Islamist brigands.
But because these newly found WMDs are merely artillery shells filled with agents, which may or may not have degraded over time as a result of their exposure to temperature variations, they don't represent "true" WMDs in the drive by media's oh, so keen sense of physical understanding, and thus are downplayed.
You see, for a WMD to qualify as an honest to goodness infernal device, it's got to be the size of an auto, capable of destroying Manhattan in an instant, large enough to look good on the front page, be discovered by a smiling Wes Clark, be described by Madeleine albright in a pithy Times editorial, have its economic importance hailed by Bill Clinton from a foreign podium, decried by Jimmy Carter for its deleterious effect on the Palestinians and Yasser arafat's growing legacy, pass the Judge John Murtha taste test, and be noted by John Kerry in a stultifying and pedantic Senate speech, wherein he avers his foreknowledge of its appearance and all the ramifications of its later use, save his vote for or against its eventual destruction.
as the WMD debate slogs along in its own send up to a Guantanamo Bay prisoner in shackles, under guard, locked away, with no one of any media note paying any attention to the plight of these rusting plague-filled artillery shells dotting the war torn landscape, Howell Raines appears from his own private Idaho Twilight Zone to add a bit of light comedy to an earth pretty much devoid of laughter, with a few choice comments on his world of make-believe.
Let's see now, Mr. Raines was one of the key reigning impresarios of the New York Times when Mr. Jayson Blair began inventing people, places, scenarios, tickets, travel vouchers, intineraries, maps, whole stories and old Howell okayed the whole sorry sordid mess for publication with a wink, a nod, and a slap on the back.
after all, Jayson, despite his few glaring faults on the plagiarism and fiction end of things, possessed a rare visionary writing skill and needed a rabbi at the top of the pyramid to move him on up to travel or features editor. and Howell was ready, willing and able - with a hand and blinders to round out the diversity angle.
Now, Mr. Raines, in a prolonged state of high anaphylactic dudgeon, comes to us complaining that Fox News broadcasts pure fiction, bawled out after his many years in a career dedicated to the concocting of reams of highly inventive mendacity.
"The key to understanding Fox News is to grasp the anomalous fact that its consumers know its ‘news' is made up," thunders Mr. Raines from the tendentious pages in his barn burning auto-biographical screed, "The One That Got away" — a fish story at best, studded, no doubt, with whoppers of a similar genus.
and while the New York Times, with and without Mr. Raines and the crass antics of the likes of those Mr. Blair performed, has been reduced to an utter laughingstock in the area of actual news and trustworthiness in the transmission of facts, it has become, in its final death gasps on Mr. Sulzberger's watch, a sworn enemy of the United States.
The New York Times chose to publish again, over the usual protestations of Mr. Bush, Mr. Gonzales, etc., their latest expose of another secret anti-terror program, under the front page headline, "Bank Data Sifted in Secret by US to Block Terror." Imagine the cheek involved in tracking al-Qaeda's dough back to Mr. Hambali, the mastermind of the Bali bombing.
Sadly, there are no jokes to be found in this bit of aid and comfort for terror. There's no Jayson Blair and his preposterous personal accounts to laugh at, his invented stories and colorful characters to snigger at, Howell Raines' outrageous statements to guffaw over, or to wonder about when the WMD's might begin peeking out at us from the newsprint - because they never will.
With this latest publication exposing one more secret and lawful american program necessary for our protection, the New York Times has continued its declared war against the United States. There is no other way to describe their actions - save the heedless violence of a demented foe at war with us.
Yes, there is a shell game at the Times. It involves the publishing of fiction as fact, the refusal to publish anything which may buttress our efforts in the war against terror and the waging of a private war against their own country and people.
Until we recognize the fact that Mr. Sulzberger is smoking a hookah, attired in a burnoose, wearing a Keffiyeh, sitting on a Persian carpet, listening with rapt attention to the latest Osama tape, carrying a dog-eared photograph of Mr. Zarqawi in his shirt pocket, providing as much lend-lease as he can to our sworn enemies, and hates his country, we're fooling ourselves.
Pinch is no longer a newspaper editor. He's an active Islamist agent.
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