If I had paid attention in Macro...

I'd be saying something like this about the Bush budget:

"The dishonesty in the 2005 budget is more like something out of a movie on the Lifetime network, with the guy whose wife and three kids in Chicago don't know that he has a whole other family in Texas, plus another one in Canada and everything's fine until the three wives accidentally meet..."[emphasis added]

Since I can't go back to High School (by order of the court) it's Mark's knowledge or no one's. The really important thing is that The Decembrist has finally delivered the Mailer-esque Armies of the Night-ish metaphor* that I knew he could back in whenever it was when I crowned him the winner of the first Link Battle. Oh yeah, we still do those around here. Everyone vote! Nice work Mark.

        

*"THE METAPHOR DELIVERED:   Whole crisis of Christianity in America that the military heroes were on one side, and the unnamed saints on the other! Let the bugle blow. The death of America rides in on the smog. America--the land where a new kind of man was born from the idea that God was present in every man not only as compassion but as power, and so the country belonged to the people; for the will of the people--if the locks of their life could be given the art to turn-was then the will of God. Great and dangerous ideal If the locks did not turn, then the will of the people was the will of the Devil. Who by now could know where was what? Liars controlled the locks.
  Brood on that country who expresses our will. She is America, once a beauty of magnificence unparalleled, now a beauty with a leprous skin. She is heavy with child--no one knows if legitimate--and languishes in a dungeon whose walls are never seen. Now the first contractions of her fearsome labor begin--it will go on: no doctor exists to tell the hour. It is only known that false labor is not likely on her now, no, she will probably give birth, and to what?--the most fearsome totalitarianism the world has ever known? or can she, poor giant, tormented lovely girl, deliver a babe of a new world brave and tender, artful and wild? Rush to the locks. God writhes in his bonds. Rush to the locks. Deliver us from our curse. For we must end on the road to that mystery where courage, death, and the dream of love give promise of sleep."

At the very least it's something to think about on election day.