Success Has A Thousand Fathers, Failure Just Has These Bastards
Having grown bored of dead Iraqis and American soldiers, various neocon guttersnipers have now morphed into a circular firing squad.
Here's Ahmed Chalabi, from the summary of an interview published in the Iraq National Congress' house organ:
What about the WMD propaganda? Chalabi counters views that he was the catalyst, saying that it was Bush officials who "came to us and asked, 'Can you help us find something on Saddam?'"
Sounds like a rhetorical question.
[Chalabi] also claims that he warned the Bush people that various Iraqi informants were unreliable, only to hear the Americans say, referring to the source, "This guy is the mother lode." Chalabi, of all people asks, "Can you believe that on such a basis the United States would go to war?"
Why, if we planted it in the New York Times, it must be true.
Meanwhile, in the forthcoming Vanity Fair, various gasbags of the quagmire insist the flatuence originated elsewhere.
Richard Perle says he was only a cheerleader, not the quarterback.
"I was in favor of bringing down Saddam. Nobody said, 'Go design the campaign to do that.' I had no responsibility for that."
David Frum admits The Right Man was a fraud of Conrad Blackian proportions (let them share the same cell):
"I always believed as a speechwriter that if you could persuade the president to commit himself to certain words, he would feel himself committed to the ideas that underlay those words. And the big shock to me has been that although the president said the words, he just did not absorb the ideas. And that is the root of, maybe, everything."
We'll put David down in the "stupid" column.
Meanwhile, Michael Ledeen blames the bitches:
"Ask yourself who the most powerful people in the White House are. They are women who are in love with the president: Laura [Bush], Condi, Harriet Miers, and Karen Hughes."
Iraq is a debacle 'cause Bush is pussywhipped. (If only he'd listened to Dick Cheney and Karl Rove!) Spoken like a true Pajamas Median.
Meanwhile, Vanity Fair's own colonialist, Chris Hitchens, was unavailable for consciousness.