A New Project for the New American Century

Dear George,

I see in the papers that you plan no letup in your plunge over the abyss that is taking the country with you. You will not throttle back your destructive behavior one notch between now and January.

Way to go, Big Guy! It’s not every person who can bring down an empire. Who could have guessed that the neocon Project for the New American Century (PNAC) was a slow fuse that would ignite an implosion unlike any the world has ever seen.

What a stellar document it was. The product of William Kristol’s New Citizenship Project, the document proved that ultimate expression of black humor is a think tank blinded by hubris.

As our walls buckle and the roof collapses around us, we would do well to recall the documents guiding principle:

As the 20th century draws to a close, the United States stands as the world's pre-eminent power. Having led the West to victory in the Cold War, America faces an opportunity and a challenge: Does the United States have the vision to build upon the achievements of past decades? Does the United States have the resolve to shape a new century favorable to American principles and interests?

Hell, does the United States have any money left to carry out the project? The national debt clock in New York has run out of zeros, and the neocons want to increase defense spending and start a couple of new wars.

But it’s not just the neocons. Everyone has bought into the project. Both Obama and McCain want to expand the armed forces with the money we don’t have. McCain wants to spend another hundred years bogged down in Iraq while Obama wants to ramp things up in Afghanistan and Pakistan.

The lunatics managing America are still mired in to glory days of World War II. We are on our deathbed and they think we’ll be storming a new beachhead in the morning.

The only error worth erring is grandiose error.

Our future is being planned by arrested adolescents whose brains are encrusted with the barnacles of a dead ideology.

It looks like the new century is shaping us into a nondescript blob of Play-Doh.

Oh well, it was fun while it lasted. You done good, George. The frat boys took over the country, and all that is left is a truckload of empty kegs.

Your admirer,
Belacqua Jones