Minister Al-X

Tom DeLay: Like a big pile of dog shit without the warmth

The blogstorm over Tom DeLay is growing. Here are some links to some good posts on the issue.
Daily DeLay is a one-stop shop for DeLay news. Jolly Buddha, my favorite non-frontpage MyDD writer, has a good diary about the heat DeLay's taking. Burnt Orange has a roundup of other blogs posting on the subject, while CommonBlog has a roundup of the major news outlets coverage of DeLay's mounting problems.

But, the funniest entry goes to The Rude Pundit, If Tom DeLay Were Your Dog...

If Tom DeLay were your dog, you'd've put that fucker down a long, long time ago. When your old dog gets so lousy with disease, stinking of open sores, shaking when it walks, crazed with dementia, snapping at children, strangers, even you sometimes, shitting in its bed more than it shits outside, then you really have no choice but to load that dog into the family car and take the long ride to the vet. Sure, sure, it's understandable that you and the family would wanna cling to your dog as long as possible, no matter how disgusting and vile and flea-ridden it's become, no matter how much it befouls the carpets, and it's because you remember your dog in its prime, so loving, giving, obeying its masters, gladly licking its own ass.

But when you know when it's time, it's time, and that sometimes it's best for everyone, including the dog, to put it out of its misery.

Yeah, if Tom DeLay were a dog, it'd be easy. You'd say, "Here, Tom, here, Tom," and hug him and promise him treats to get in the car, and it'd be so sweet, because Tom DeLay would lick you, thinking you were taking him to meet with more cash-stuffed corporate lobbyists. Instead, of course, you'd take Tom DeLay to the kind, gentle veterinarian and the caring nurses, and surely you'd shed a tear as Tom DeLay was put to sleep, going to that big K Street in the sky where there's endless Lockheed-sponsored fire hydrants to piss on. You'd be sad, but at the same time, there's the sweet relief in knowing that Tom DeLay will no longer make you have to send the rugs out to be cleaned every week.

The piece ends with this classic line:

But, alas, alas, Tom DeLay is not a dog. He is the Republican Majority Leader in the House of Representatives, very nearly a human being. And, like the last roach after the apocalypse, he will cling to his political life, assisted by those who cower in his shadow, until he has polluted the entire house with his stench.

Ah, if only Delay were a Dog...

posted by Anonymous @ 4:49 PM