The more I read about the Wilson/Plame/Rove/Libby/Fleischer/Powell/Rice story, (and as an ePluribus Media member, I'm up to my eyeballs in it) the less I understand.
The problem is, I just don't think like they do.
So I'm going to drink the Kool-Aid, take the red pill and jump down the rabbit hole, just to see what it's like.
Won't you come too?
Nothing is true. That's the first thing I can see down here. It's not just that people are lying, that's a given. It's more than that. The essence of things is somehow different, their boundaries less defined. Things shift and mutate as you look at them. What you say one minute may be contradicted the next when you realize the ceiling is the wall, and the sky is the ocean and the minutes are a memo.
Stories, plots, timelines and facts intertwine though space and time. Some things are simultaneously true and false, depending on how you turn your head, depending on which podium you stand behind. From here, I can see two distinct stories, spooled out like film, frame by frame. At some points the frames overlap, at others they are crudely spliced together. It's like watching a 3D movie without the glasses. Things blur at the edges as my eyes try to work together to see two different things.
I can see Valerie Wilson arriving for work at Langley. She wears a CIA ID badge on a lanyard around her neck. She walks into the building and heads for her desk, a cog in the great wheel of our intelligence gathering machine. She is just one of many, proud and open about her job-the frame jumps and slides-as Valerie Wilson types another work-a-day analysis I can see Valerie Plame rise and walk down a hallway, dossier in hand. Her husband walks beside her. He's wild-eyed and frantic as he whispers,"They'd better go for this, Val. If I don't get to Africa, we'll never remove Bush from power!" She silences him with an icy look and keeps |typing|walking.
Colors run into muddy pools and the room lurches. I am on the phone, indignation rising like heartburn. The Italian documents have failed and Wilson is talking. They told me he'd play ball, but now he's in the papers, the prick, and people are looking sideways at the StateoftheUnionNIEPowell'sUNaddressw h o l e d a m n w a r.
"Listen," I say and I sincerely want to look for for this guy. I'm a pal. I'm like that. These reporters, they're my paisanos, you know? "Hey, watch yourself on this story, don't get too far ahead, Wilson's wife..."
Valerie Wilson glides by, nose in an unclassified document, wearing a jacket with CIA emblazoned on the back-NO!-not that one!
Valerie Plame darts out of the shadows and scurries away, a map of Niger in her gloved hands.
"...that's right, the agency. WMD. Boondoggle."
the sound of tearing paper, the smell of burning fuel the color of weak tea the room spins around me
How many times do we have to go through this? If we knew what we knew in March in October then we wouldn't have said it in January. We took out the references to Africa before the Cincinatti speech because we knew thwy were true in January and should never be spoken at the UN. The British the Italians the CIA the NIE the weapons inspectors (wilson)2002 2003 let me make this clear, he was seeking Uranium and will always be seeking Uranium because we won't discover(wilson)the forgery in this version of the story. (Wilson?) Dr. Rice never said that. General Powell never said that. President Bush never said that. (WILSON!) We are in Iraq to spead freedom and democracy. We have always been in Iraq to build new schools.
DON'T LOOK OVER HERE.
i am twisted like a rag and left in an empty room, no it's an alley, no it's nowhere.
I get it now.