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Don't ask me about the morality of what W. Mark Felt did in the 1970s when he dropped a very large dime on President Nixon. I'm too busy trying to figure out how the air vents at Guantanamo Bay work.
How does a guard taking a whiz in another part of the complex -- presumably aiming at a urinal if he has any home training -- manage to accidentally "splash" a detainee along with his Quran in another room?
At the risk of sounding indelicate, I want to know how a stream of pee made its way into the air vent in the first place. What kind of, um, delivery system made it possible for urine to travel whatever the distance is between point 'A' and point 'P,' -- I mean -- point 'B.'
<snip>
If I didn't know for a fact that John "Bluto" Belushi was dead, I'd swear he was running this war. The evidence is nearly incontrovertible. Can't military intelligence do better than a two word profanity scribbled in a Quran and water balloon assaults on suspected terrorists? The Pentagon even confirmed that a soldier deliberately kicked a Quran like a football. What's next: itching powder on prayer rugs during Ramadan?
<snip>
All this talk about Deep Throat has made me nostalgic for investigative journalism that gives a damn. But I'm also torn by a desire to know what shouldn't be discussed in polite company.
Granted, the Downing Street Memo, a British government document that suggests President Bush had made up his mind about the war in Iraq months before it was launched, is more important than what Michael Jackson will wear to prison if he's convicted, but you wouldn't know it from the media coverage. And let's face it, most readers don't care a whit about government intrigue if it doesn't involve a White House intern and thongs. Runaway brides, Scientology obsessed movie stars and missing girls in Aruba trump a possible nuclear conflict with North Korea any day.
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http://www.post-gazette.com/pg/05158/516835.stm