Bye Bye Bhutto

I think I've been living in NYC too long. I always prided myself on being an optimist, but now I equally pride myself on being just as cynical as all the other slimy worms oxidizing through The Big Apple. Benazir Bhutto, may she rest in peace, wasn't dead two hours before every gunslinging candidate on the American political trail was turning it into another bullet on the resume of Why I Should Be President. There was just no milking any sympathy out of John McCain's boast that he had known Ms. Bhutto personally and of his familiarity with the landscape of Pakistan (thus entitling him to the keys to the White House.) Today Hillary is preaching the necessity of an "independent international investigation" into this insidious incident that has interrupted the inglorious tradition called rallying the faithful to the Iowa Caucuses. She sure looked mighty and presidential issuing the call, not to mention all those other adjectives used to describe ugly Americans who think their noses belong in every butt crack shitting all over this planet. (Can you imagine if the president of Iran had called on an independent international investigation during Monicagate when it appeared that Bubba Clinton had no credibility whatsoever?) Let the Pakistanis have a sundown to bury the assassinated woman. Send flowers. Write a card. In a moment of silence, if it's not too much to ask. The world lost a human life yesterday. Maybe even two. Tell your opponent you're happy he's still alive. Would it kill you all to be human for once in your political lifetimes?