Balls like...

Despite the deep consternation they've caused in some quarters -- this one included -- the Bush administration probably won't be judged by history as being all that exceptional.

Putting aside the bloody arrogance of the Iraq adventure aside (a matter of heavy lifting, I'll admit), their most recognizable trait seems to be a propensity to foul themselves within their own living quarters. In time, as the full stories come out about the politicizing of the prosecutors, the co-opting of the EPA, NIH and NASA, the outing of Valerie Plame -- and as their continuing ability to harm us recedes into the past -- our reaction to their misdeeds will most likely simply cause us to turn away in disgust, as from a relative with a bad case of halitosis.

Still, yesterday's revelation of the rather detailed throttling of the administration's ex-surgeon general, held some surprises in store, even for this practiced consumer of apalling White House behavior.

According to Dr. Richard H. Carmona, political appointees within the administration blocked him from speaking out about a wide array of public health matters, including stem cell research, abstinence-only sex education and the emergency contraceptive Plan B.

Nothing surprising here, of course. Just more of the same demand for loyalty above truth and the seemingly endless need to pander to the right. New day, same bullshit.

(In truth, the best part was the White House's demand that Carmona "mention George Bush 3 times on every page of his speeches," which seems more a matter of ubiquitous cruelty, sort of like making Muslim men wear women's underwear.)

But it was the reply of the White House spokesman Tony Fratto that really caught my attention:

"It's disappointing to us," Fratto said, "if [Carmona] failed to use his position to the fullest extent in advocating for policies he thought were in the best interests of the nation."

There, from the lips of an administration underling so unknown, he/she was identified in the New York Times as being of both genders, comes a display of Herculean chocks so enormous they seemed positively Rumsfeldian.

"Holy shit," I sputtered to my wife, "that's like...like Stalin blaming Kamenev for leaving his brains all over the kitchen. It's like Yoko blaming the Beatles for not getting along. It's like shooting your neighbor and then complaining about how he lies around all day..." Similes simply fail one at moments like these.

It's not just the cynicism...the bald, corrosive self-interest...the complete disregard for truth -- it's the joy they take in it. They know perfectly well that no one over the age of 6, without a major impairment of brain function, would actually believe they were telling the truth. And that really gets them off.

After all this time, they can still give me the creeps.