I am, of course, quite bereft that I have lost your respect, though the pain is lessened somewhat by not knowing I ever had it in the first instance. But upon reflection…
The lying. Yes, that’s pretty much it right there. In a nutshell. The lying. The flag desecration as well, how he spatters the flag of my beloved nation with the blood of the innocent, and then wraps it about himself as though its very presence answered all questions and rebutted all criticism.
I might very well be drawn to polite political discourse, over tea with pinkies akimbo, murmuring demurely. It is an appealing notion to one as civilized as myself, to turn to one’s right and quietly advise “You might not wish to remain seated until the intermission, as I have good reason to suspect that the theater is quite ablaze. Do excuse me, I must be going…”
As you no doubt are aware, earlier on my view of GeeDubya was distinctly isolated, The Man Who Fell Up was widely admired and lionized, adorned with laurels that, by all rights, should shrink from the foulness of his touch. And the people are stirring, awakening. They poke the Flight Suit with a stick and recoil, for, like Nature, they abhor a vacuum. Oftimes, when one is not careful of where one sleeps, one is subject to rude shocks upon awakening. (Or so I’ve heard. I have this on the authority of friend Diogenes who is, as you no doubt know, a notorious slut. I have no such expertise to offer. But I digress…)
As much as it pains me to be deprived of your good respect, yet one must soldier on, mustn’t one? Rest assured, my faith in your own reason is not so compromised, I have little doubt. One day, perhaps soon, you will chuckle over something I’ve said and say to yourself “What an asshole! However, you know, he has a point…”
Even in the absence of your regard, that will do nicely.