The "Petraeus Report" and More Smoke and Mirrors:
Often, watching the Bush administration in action is a little like watching a magician opening for strippers named Bodacious Ta-tas Lorraine or Lady Kitty Cockswallow at a no-cover bar at a Boise truck stop in the 1960s. The magician, maybe named "the Great Ballini" or something equally clever, isn't very good, his card forces a little too forced, his coins and hankies too obviously tucked away, his sleight of hand clumsy, his hidden compartments clunky. But, still and all, to half-drunk truck drivers wanting feathered boobies and sequined cooters thrust in their faces on a cold Idaho night on the road, it's distracting as long as you don't pay too much attention. The problem, of course, is that once you know the tricks, the magic dissipates and all you've got is a loser desperately trying to entertain you with dirty-puns and a suit that needed to be cleaned last month.
So, while there's been an uproar over how the Petraeus report is not the Petraeus report, but actually the White House report, well, the idea that General Petraeus was ever going to write the report is just so many ripped dollar bills magically mended with a wave of the hand. According to the actual legislation, "The President, having consulted with the Secretary of State, the Secretary of Defense, the Commander, Multi-National Forces-Iraq, the United States Ambassador to Iraq, and the Commander of U.S. Central Command, will prepare the report and submit the report to Congress" and "The President shall submit a second report to the Congress, not later than September 15, 2007" and "Prior to the submission of the President's second report on September 15, 2007, and at a time to be agreed upon by the leadership of the Congress and the Administration, the United States Ambassador to Iraq and the Commander, Multi-National Forces Iraq will be made available to testify in open and closed sessions before the relevant committees of the Congress."
So, while everyone and his Cheney was talking about the great and mighty "General Petraeus's report" or some such shit, that was just spin, spin that the Democrats got tricked into using. And while Democrats were right to balk at the idea that Petraeus and Ambassador Ryan Crocker would give only closed-door testimony, well, fuck, read the goddamn bill. Remember: the Bush White House parses every letter of every word to see how to manipulate things in their favor, or they just issue a signing statement that says, in so many words, "Kiss my chicken-fried ass."
Smoke and mirrors. Push-up bras or socks in the crotch. Nothing is ever what it seems in this mad age with these madmen. Take Gitmo. Even as candidates like crazed robot Mitt Romney talk about doubling its size or Republicans and their foul lackeys in the media say things like, "We don't want them strange-talkin' people we tortured on our soil," the Bush administration approached Canada about taking over a dozen Chinese Gitmo detainees who have been determined, through long years of nut vices and forced nudity, to have no connection to the eeevil people of the world (or at least those that we deem eeevil). But, it seems, we can't just return them to China because, well, shit, seems they were captured by Pakistani bounty hunters because they were fleeing persecution in China. Lucky thing they were turned over to the USA. For cash.
Oh, China wants 'em back. Wants 'em back bad. We even let Chinese officials "interview" them. That must have been waterboardtastic. And China has "pressured" other countries into not taking the men, who, despite being no threat to America, live in cells for 22 hours a day. Remember how it used to be really cool when Soviets or Chinese would defect? Remember political asylum? Goddamn, how wonderful America seemed back then.
Now we beg Canada to take them because our toy-poisoning Chinese masters have told us to keep our filthy freedom-loving hands off them. Canada, though, said, in so many words, "Kiss our Canuck asses. Hard."
Or, like that pathetic magician whose pigeons have flown off and are now shitting all over the club, "Clean up your own fucking mess."