King George’s Soliloquy

[Throws down blogpost printouts which he has been reading. Excitedly combs his steel wool-like hair with his fingers; pounds the table with his fists; lets off brisk volleys of unsanctified language at brief intervals, repentantly drooping his head, between volleys, and kissing the Vladimir Putin crucifix hanging from his neck, accompanying the kisses with mumbled apologies; presently rises, flushed and perspiring, and walks the floor, gesticulating]

Crossposted from European Tribune.

—- —-!! —- —-!! If I had them by the throat! [Hastily kisses the crucifix, and mumbles] In these three years I have spent millions to keep the press of the two hemispheres quiet, and still these leaks keep on occurring. I have spent other millions on democracy and human rights, and what do I get for it? Nothing. Not a compliment. These generosities are studily ignored, in print. In print I get nothing but slanders — and slanders again — and still slanders, and slanders on top of slanders! Grant them true, what of it? They are slanders all the same when uttered against a king.

Miscreants — they are telling everything! Oh, everything: how I went pilgriming among the Powers in tears, with my mouth full of Bible and my pelt oozing with piety at every pore, and implored them to place the vast and rich populous Iraqi State in trust in my hands as their agent, so that I might root out terrorism and stop the resistance, and lift up those twenty-five millions of gentle and harmless Muslims out of darkness into light, the light of our blessed Redeemer, the light that streams from his holy Word, the light that makes glorious our noble civilization — lift them up and dry their tears and fill their bruised hearts with joy and gratitude — lift them up and make them comprehend that they were no longer outcasts and forsaken, but our very brothers in Christ; how America and thirteen great states wept in sympathy with me, and were persuaded; how their representatives met in convention in New York and made me Head Foreman and Superintendent of the Iraqi State, and drafted my powers and limitations, carefully guarding the persons and liberties and properties of the natives against hurt and harm; forbidding oil contraband; providing courts of justice; making commerce free and fetterless to the merchants and traders of all nations, and welcoming and safe-guarding all mercenaries of all corporate affiliations. They have told how I planned and prepared my establishment and selected my horde of officials — “pals” and “pimps” of mine, “unspeakable Americans” every one — and hoisted my flag, and “took in” a Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, and got him to be the first to recognize it and salute it. Oh, well, let them blackguard me if they like; it is a deep satisfaction to me to remember that I was a shade too smart for that nation that thinks itself so smart. Yes, I certainly did BushCo a Brit — as those people phrase it. Pirate flag? Let them call it so — perhaps it is. All the same, they were the first to salute it.

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These meddlesome American aid workers! these frank British reporters! these blabbingblabbing French-born traitor UN officials! — those tiresome parrots are always talking, always telling. They have told how for three years I have ruled the Iraqi State not as a trustee of the Powers, an agent, a subordinate, a foreman, but as a sovereign — sovereign over an oil-rich domain as large as Texas — sovereign absolute, irresponsible, above all law; trampling the New York-made Iraq resolution under foot; barring out all foreign traders but myself; restricting commerce to myself, through concessionaires who are old friends of my Royal Father and of my Vice-Roi; seizing and holding the State as my personal property, the whole of its vast revenues as my private “swag” — mine, solely mine — claiming and holding its millions of people as my private property, my serfs, my slaves; their labor mine, with or without wage; the food they raise not their property but mine; the oil, the gas and all the other riches of the land mine — mine solely — and gathered for me by Halliburton.

These pests! — it is as I say, they have kept back nothing! They have revealed these and yet other details which shame should have kept them silent about, since they were exposures of a king, a sacred personage and immune from reproach, by right of his selection and appointment to his great office by God himself; a king whose acts cannot be criticized without blasphemy, since God has observed them from the beginning and has manifested no dissatisfaction with them, nor shown disapproval of them, nor hampered nor interrupted them in any way. By this sign I recognize his approval of what I have done; his cordial and glad approval, I am sure I may say.

Blest, crowned, beatified with this great reward, this golden reward, this unspeakably precious reward, why should I care for men’s cursings and revilings of me?

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Author: Sirocco

Philosophical Norseman with a taste for desert landscapes. My nick refers to the dusty North African wind. Left: Bogart in Sirocco. Hope my posts are better than this movie!