|Domestic terrorism at the Super Bowl|
By Hunter S. Thompson
Page 2 columnist
Recent polls by a secret U.S. government agency indicate that 83 percent of teenage girls in America say they would rather be violated at airport Security checkpoints than board a commercial airliner with potential Terrorist passengers who have "not been thoroughly searched for bombs and deadly weapons." More than 90 percent said they were "very frightened by Arabic-looking strangers," and 42 percent said they had "willingly granted sexual favors to uniformed law enforcement officers since Sept. 11, 2001."
The news out of Washington is getting darker and weirder by the hour. On some days, it has the look of a full-bore Terrorist cell operating out of the White House basement, spewing fear and desperation on a nation of suddenly impoverished patriots. Where is Bill Clinton, now that we finally need him?
Where was Mr. Bill at the Super Bowl, now that you mention it? Was he even there? Was he whooping it up with his skull-people? Or was he wallowing lewdly in one of those chic and famous orgies on South Canal Street.
Not on your life, Bubba. Bill Clinton was long gone from New Orleans by the time the Troops arrived, and the angel of Fun was not with him. He was hunkered down in Beverly Hills with two fat young bimbos from Oxnard, and a heart full of hate for those Texas freaks who scuttled him.
Now, only one year later, the whole country is broke and bogged down in some dubious foreign war that our children will be paying off for another 99 years. Our national economy is in ruins, Harvard-trained crooks have destroyed the roots of investor confidence, public-school systems from Maine to California are downsized to death by greedheads, our baseball-loving President comes back to work after a weekend of unspeakable football adventures with a nasty-looking puncture wound on his face.
Who needs that kind of berserk crap in this hour of national crisis? It is exactly the kind of sleazy, Third-world behavior that we have always denounced as "unacceptably corrupt" when it happens in primitive banana republics like Haiti and South Texas.
Bill Clinton is looking pretty good, these days, compared to the criminal craziness of Enron and Wall Street. Good old sex-crazy Bill never asked for any more job-related booty than some high-style oral sex. You bet -- if Clinton could run for President in 2004, he would win handily. We will see.
Meanwhile, this blizzard of mind-warping war propaganda out of Washington is building up steam. Monday is Anthrax, Tuesday is Bankruptcy, Friday is Child-Rape, Thursday is Bomb-scares, etc., etc., etc.... If we believed all the brutal, frat-boy threats coming out of the White House, we would be dead before Sunday. It is pure and savage terrorism reminiscent of Nazi Germany.
Yes, sir. It was all guns and no butter when our super-friendly young warrior-President went to market. It was a public feeding frenzy for the global Military-Industrial Complex.
Whoops! That's it for now, folks. The bell has finally rung for this ill-tempered rant. I have to get a grip on myself, now -- but I will not forget the ugliness of having crazed messages from the White House and the FBI jammed into my face when I'm trying to watch a football game. Help. Has the NFL been drafted into the "war effort" now? What kind of horrible experiment are we being subjected to, in the name of Football? Have the fascists at Fox TV finally run amok like fiendish zombies?
Who is responsible for this Rudeness? What kind of bigoted freak came up with the idea that Terrorizing 200 million football lovers on Super Bowl weekend is "Good for national Security interests"???
That is something that Adolf Hitler might have said in the summer of 1942. ... And the "Thousand-Year Reich" lasted 13 bloody years, buster. Only that. And nothing more.
Dr. Hunter S. Thompson's books include Hell's Angels, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail '72, The Proud Highway, Better Than Sex and The Rum Diary. His new book, Fear and Loathing in America, has just been released. A regular contributor to various national and international publications, Thompson now lives in a fortified compound near Aspen, Colo. His column, "Hey, Rube," appears each Monday on Page 2.