Sheehan, World's Troubles Ruin President's Vacation

[orleans]

from the los angeles daily news

"BY SHERYL GAY STOLBERG

"CRAWFORD, Texas - This parched Texas cattle town, population 705, has been a haven for President George W. Bush every August, an escape from the buttoned-down confines of Washington. Here, Bush can clear brush, ride his mountain bike along scrubby trails, curl up with a book or kick up his feet for an afternoon siesta.

"But this year, reality - in the form of the November midterm elections, peace activist Cindy Sheehan and the legacy of Hurricane Katrina - has intruded on the president's summer vacation, cutting short his time at his 1,600-acre ranch. "

snip

"Mark Knoller of CBS News, whose statistics on presidential trips to Crawford are so comprehensive that the White House refers inquiries to him, said the current visit was Bush's 59th trip to his ranch since taking office; as of Saturday, he had spent all or part of 384 days there. "

snip

"Much to the dismay of many here, Sheehan recently bought five acres in Crawford; on Friday, workmen were on her land, grading a road in preparation for another influx of demonstrators. "


http://www.dailynews.com/news/ci_4142011

(boo fucking hoo--he's wrecked the last five years of our lives so good! i'm glad his vacation is ruined!)

[freeplessinseattle]

1. "curl up with a book"

are they intentioanlly trying to be funny?

[WePurrsevere]

2. I guess he must really like "My Pet Goat". ;-D n/t

[flordehinojos]

10. that phrase, sentence, lie, whatever it is, also smacked me right between

the eyes and inside my brain...somebody was projecting their own dreams, reading habits, whatever on to the shrub without brains boy.

[Lisa]

14. stop! mercy! I'm laughing so hard I think I hurt myself! (n/t)

[niyad]

3. HIS vacation is ruined???? the world has deadly serious problems

right now, and all he can think about is HIS vacation? how dare he even THINK about taking one? oh wait, I forgot, he just plain doesn't give a DAMN about anyone or anything but himself.

on the other hand, maybe there at the pig farm back-drop, he won't be nearly so embarrassing.

[WePurrsevere]

4. Aww... poor pitiful baby.... remind me to give a damn. He brought much of

this on himself.

The damn fool and his neo-CON cabal dragged us and many others into a huge mess of lies, crappy economy, high oil prices, DEATH and much closer to the brink of DESTRUCTION.... all for the love of MONEY and POWER.
:grr: :nuke: :grr:

[magellan]

5. I don't even know why this bastard is on vacation again

We pay his wages. Does anyone recall a vacation request crossing their desk? I sure don't.

[Skittles]

6. I bet he pitched a real hissy-fit when they told him to cut it short

yes INDEED

[NoPasaran]

7. I've been reading

I've been reading Doris Kearns Goodwin's book Team of Rivals. Apparently that damn Civil War really cut into Abraham Lincoln's downtime.

[Eugene]

8. Awww! Poor Shrubya.

He can't keep the real world from intruding on his bubble. :nopity:
The Emperor can't hide from the consequences of his actions.

[Punkingal]

9. Oh, boo-hoo.

They actually write this as though he is someone being deprived. How sickening? And the line about curling up with a book. Why do they still float that nonsense? He doesn't read ANYTHING, not even memos like "Bin Laden Determined to Strike in the US"

[Lisa]

15. or "Category 5 Hurricane Headed for Gulf Coast"

If he won't even pick up guaranteed page-turners like that (let alone turn on the TV news, in the latter case) -- what exactly would get him to his feet? "John McCain is serving cake in the dining room", perhaps?

[mwb970]

11. I have in mind a much longer vacation.

With three meals a day, guaranteed, and exercise for half an hour each morning with the other inmates.

[Deja Q]

12. You mean, he does more than just vacation?

:yoiks:

[theHandpuppet]

13. A postcard from "this parched Texas cattle town"

In the whole time I visited "this parched Texas cattle town" during my stay at Camp Casey I never spotted one single cow... anywhere. Outside the town proper I drove past lots of ranches where the only indication there was a house somewhere 'round the bend would be the sudden appearance of imposing iron gates or somesuch at an entrance, but you could never spot the houses themselves. Don't think "Gone with the Wind" with its inviting and grand, oak-lined carpet to Tara. Folks like the O'Hara's wanted to be seen. Nope, think the menacing obelisks of 2001: A Space Odyssey suspended in the vacuum of space, but prairie-style. You can't see them, but you know they're watching you.

Crawford itself is the size of your proverbial postage stamp. Working class folks and, it seems, quite a few of them working poor. I suspect many were the folks actually working the ranches as opposed to owning them. The citizens of "this parched Texas cattle town" were wary of us, not so much because we were quite the amalgamation of anti-war protestors -- vets in their camo and fatigues, the women of Code Pink dressed head to toe in their favorite shade of pale red, youthful college students with the kind of exuberant energies I can only remember with fondness, aging hippies who I realized looked remarkably like my college roommates -- no, they were wary of us simply because we were strangers. The townfolk were always polite, cautious and reserved, so even if they didn't care for the fuss they kept those thoughts mostly to themselves. The streets are in horrible shape and there are dogs running loose EVERYwhere. The dogs all know one another. No cattle, though. Saw a lot more motorcycles than horses, that's for sure.

I have to wonder where Herr Bush finds all this brush to clear. The only brush I spotted was the kind that hugs the ribs of winding, narrow roads like a thatched fenceline. Beyond the town proper it's also the only place to find a tree, even if they're scraggly ones that offer meager shade from a broiling Texas sun. I suppose that's where all the cattle went -- they were probably trying to find a spot of shade, like a migrating herd of wildebeests searching for a precious drop of water.

It was rather eerie, truly, the absence of lifesign among the virtually flat, dry grasslands with their unrestricted view for miles around. No signs of movement, no sound, not even the wind stirs. Even the birds take to ground, looking for cover amongst the grasses. I guess I'm used to the kind of farms we have here in the East, where folks had to cut down whole forests to turn a plow and you have to be nice to animals because it's obvious they outnumber you fifty to one. On the plus side, if you're a PR assistant or a President you never have to make a day hike out of finding brush to clear; the brush will find you if you're not vigilant.

Nope, never saw a cow in Crawford, though I did espy one critter -one- sunning himself in the middle of a dusty road which leads to the Presidential pig farm. It was so reassuring and ironic all at the same time I remember laughing out loud. That old buzzard must have been as startled to see me as I was to spot him, though unlike me he was none too pleased and took wing even before we could introduce ourselves.

But cattle? Nope, nary a single, solitary one. Darn it.