Our corpulent body of state awoke from an uneasy slumber this week, heaving its bulk upward and exposing long-neglected folds to the harsh glare of sunlight, emitting a noxious stench that caused many a man to quail and many a gorge to rise. This flabby, pale underbelly represents America’s long love affair with ignoring the golden rule and with having its cake and eating it too. We need, in a word, torture. And we need it bad.
George Bush is our undisputed champion, striding confidently... [More]