So, I had three consecutive, equally distressing nightmares last night. I have no idea why. I remember a lot more dreams than I used to, but they're only ever nightmares. In one, I was up on the roof of this goliath, cloud penetrating building, like where the purple shit all assembles in Ghostbusters 2, and the roof had a room on top of it, or the contents of a room, like a banqueting hall. The dudes I used to be in a band with tricked me into closing my eyes and lying down on table, then they sat on my arms and tortured me. They were wearing big curly Ronald MacDonald wigs. It was fucked. I managed to wrestle out and gouge at their eyeballs and shit, which made me sick. Then it all shifted, and I was in a car, and Pete Doherty got in, and started smoking a pipe in the front seat, eyeballing me the whole time, sort of drooling, going, "what do you think you are? What the fuck do you think you are?" Then the car was filled with all these weird grey plasticine children, and they were all sticking their hands down my throat, and I couldn't breathe, and I was gagging all up their plasticine arms, feeling bad about it, despite the whole desperate agony thing, and the car stank of crack, and was going at hundred of miles an hour through these windy welsh backroads, and we crashed into something, and the plasticine turned to pulped flesh, just like that. Then I was in hospital, and outside it was raining acid, tearing at the walls cutting through the glass in the windows, and Mary was sat at the end of my bed, just staring, dead-eyed, no pupils, smiling, being, just... mean... and I couldn't move, because I was strapped to the bed.
Anyway. Enough of THAT! I had a good day man, this animated video is looking so fine. I had a better day than Lewis Libby but I suppose Karl Rove must be doing handstands, the sweaty fat fuck. But, you know, these are serious issues at stake here, so let us not crow, or whine, but SCRAP these violent scum.
Statement of Ambassador Joseph Wilson with Respect to the Indictment
A BUZZFLASH NEWS ALERT
(Read by his attorney Christopher Wolf at 3:00 p.m. – 10/28/05)
The five count indictment issued by the Grand Jury today is an important step in the criminal justice process that began more than two years ago. I commend Special Counsel Patrick Fitzgerald for his professionalism, for his diligence, and for his courage.
There will be many opportunities in the future to comment on the events that led to today’s indictment. And, it appears that there will be further developments before the grand jury. Whatever the final outcome of the investigation and the prosecution, I continue to believe that revealing my wife Valerie’s secret CIA identity was very wrong and harmful to our nation, and I feel that my family was attacked for my speaking the truth about the events that led our country to war. I look forward to exercising my rights as a citizen to speak about these matters in the future.
Today, however, is not the time to analyze or to debate. And it is certainly not a day to celebrate. Today is a sad day for America. When an indictment is delivered at the front door of the White House, the Office of the President is defiled. No citizen can take pleasure from that.
As this case proceeds, Valerie and I are confident that justice will be done. In the meantime, I have a request. While I may engage in public discourse, my wife and my family are private people. They did not choose to be brought into the public square, and they do not wish to be under the glare of camera. They are entitled to their privacy. This case is not about me or my family, no matter how others might try to make it so.
This case is about serious criminal charges that go to the heart of our democracy.
We, like all citizens, await the judgment of the jury in a court of law.