Tonight as I was surfing around, I saw the included pic of K. Sebelius and was suddenly struck at the enormous similarity of her demeanor to that shown in the famous WWII pics of the haughty master of arrogance, Il Duce (in his earlier photos, in better days). I harvested both and clumped the two, then searched for #2 in the Absolute King of Smug Arrogance competition, POTUS himself. By this time, my mind was awhirl with possibilities and I went back to the well for a bucket each of Lerner, Clinton and (a youthful but already full of malice and bitterness) Madame Obama. While beating the bushes for the Lerner photo, I came across someone else’s version with Obama, Mussolini and Lerner but since I was not plagiarizing, I forged ahead with what I consider a better version.
What a rogue’s gallery of liars, obfuscators and assorted miscreants mostly caught in a revealing moment during a confrontation with their SUPERIORS who were demanding an accounting!
Please take note, I am willfully comparing the arrogant machinations and the characters of the five American contemporaries here with a favorite lap dog of Hitler who earned his 15 minutes of fame through his years of “glorious” lies conjuring up the reincarnation of Rome and his egotistical manipulation of the Italian people who otherwise would have had no dog in the fight that was WWII. The Italians seem to have forgotten their own perpetually wretched history where GLORY AND PROSPERITY was just a thin veneer covering excessive degeneracy and vile intrigues. Sounds disgustingly familiar, doesn’t it?
Six displays of annoyed petulant defiance from six people who should have/have had a better grip on how very close to the edge they were with the public at that moment despite the fact that NONE of the Americans has had any price to pay beyond a little inconvenience, YET!
As an illustration of that point about consequences, I almost added that famous shot of the aftermath of Mussolini and his mistress being paid in full by the Italian people as they twist bloodied and broken, hanging by their heels, in the balmy April air of an Italian village square. I was somewhat concerned though that with the ugly atmosphere in this country and incessant snooping, I might just be buying a ticket to a long disappearance into a tropical resort camp complete with camo clad attendants, barbed wire, gun towers, solitary incarceration and waterboarding to determine who else was involved in my plot to take over the government. But, in the words of one of the swine on this page, “What difference does it make.” If they want me, they most probably would consider my feeble attempts at self preservation to be laughably pathetic and I doubt that “reasonable search and seizure” means anything to them. And my own haughty glare no longer has the blaze of untempered competent defiance it once did.