Ahh, the Sweet, Dulcet Tones of Screaming Kitten Death:
George W. Bush could walk into a room and watch Donald Rumsfeld with a claw hammer bludgeon to death two dozen kittens and he could come out of that room and sit down with a reporter and say, "There's no such things as kittens." Rumsfeld could walk out of that room, sweaty, covered with kitty blood, and Bush, glazed, over-bred narrow eyes just this side of mongoloid set firmly, would say, "Those kittens were a threat. They have kitty claws. One nick on the jugular and you're bleeding to death." Despite the joy you may feel at the idea of Donald Rumsfeld dying slowly from an unstoppable tight spurt of blood, you could ask Bush how he expected this theoretical super-kitten to reach Secretary Rumsfeld's jugular and Bush would respond, "You just rest assured. I know that the kittens could reach the jugular." Absurd? Then you haven't been fucking paying attention.
This administration does not traffic in information: it is only the patriarchal distribution of spin. You have to believe them because they say so. You cannot question. You can show them all the evidence you want, but understand this: George Bush is a fundamentalist Christian, a state of mind that requires so much blind faith and unquestioning adherence to the Bible that it doesn't allow for anything that might produce, let's say, doubt. Doubt is banished. Fuck doubt. There is only what is true. And once you believe you have truth, unequivocal, save your soul truth, you will cling to that truth even as it sinks into the cold, cold ocean. Better to freeze to death with belief than to live in a world of relativity, no? So Bush hangs on, cruelly, to his vision of rightness, and he mouths whatever words he needs to mouth in order to maintain the lie. Check out all the desperate lies he told the local press here.