Posthuman Blues

Scientists have produced the most accurate model of the Cosmic Background Radiation to date. (See the multicolored sphere on my bio page).

Months ago, I made a silent pact not to get particularly upset over stupid politicians. This wasn't the same thing as proclaiming pacificism; I merely felt that politicians made too easy a target. Everyone gets irate over politics. It's amusing to an extent, but nothing I wanted to indulge in. But the Bush Regime threatens to dissolve my personal pact as certainly as the White House's behavior has tarred the U.S.' international reputation.

Bush is a quintessential addict/tyrant, madly setting the stage for petrochemical apocalypse. Bush's war-lust goes beyond bad politics and into the domain of psychopathology. He is a frothing-at-the-mouth aggressor, all unrequited id, mulish obstinance and hideous posturing. The man is sick; his agenda is even worse. To the Bush Regime, Iraq's initial reluctance to destroy its arsenal was a mean-spirited game of "chicken." But now the truly unthinkable is happening: they're complying! They're beginning to cooperate! Damn them!

Bush fills Washington's corridors with a foul reptile stink. He's followed by a nastily persistant haze that leaves his opponents gasping for breath. His mind operates with the subtlety of hardwired circuitry; machine-like, he sees in the garish green subspectrum of night-vision goggles. Facing Bush's mania is roughly as difficult as going up against James Cameron's Terminator bare-handed, and just as exhausting.