With the highest inflation in 25 years and the lowest consumer confidence reading in as many months, it appears that the petroleum industry’s usury is beginning to suffocate the economy. Yet that’s not why Congress rejected a ninth consecutive pay raise. Looking towards the next election cycle, rank and file legislators didn’t want to appear excessively greedy while their leaders are under investigation for insider trading and money laundering. Though their grubby, twitching fingers eschewed the till this time around, Conservatives’ pockets still jangle with a surfeit of political capital.

Republicans should be reeling from a cornucopia of indictments; unfortunately, they haven’t circled the wagons just yet. They mobilized to defeat a hike in the minimum wage, which, at just over $5 an hour, hasn’t budged in eight years. Sure, times may be tough, but someone’s got to stand up and crap on the little guy. It is no accident that since Bush took office, the wealthy have endured superfluous tax abatement while millions of middle class Americans have lost health insurance and slipped into poverty. But give Congress some credit – it’s managed to consistently deliver record deficits despite significant cuts in Food Stamps and Medicaid. And if this widening economic disparity wasn’t already bad enough, millionaire Senator Judd Gregg (R-NH) just won $850,000 in the Powerball lottery. Actuaries have calculated that because Judd possessed total command of the English language and did not live in a trailer park, his odds of winning were roughly 46 billion to one.

Which roughly describes Harriet Miers’ chance of landing on the Supreme Court. The Christian Right decried her meager anti-rights credentials while, at the same time, the Rational Left dismissed her as another unqualified crony. Both sides strained to extrapolate what few shards — supports gay rights, favors a constitutional ban on abortion — have been unearthed from her 1989 run at the Dallas City Council. Her assertion that George Bush is the most brilliant man on the planet certainly brings her evaluative skills into question while her financial disclosures have raised more than a few eyebrows. After twenty years representing corporate behemoths like Disney and Microsoft, declaring well under a million dollars worth of assets betrays either imprudence or mendacity. On the other hand, although she has never sat on the bench, Ms. Miers is well schooled in the more venal aspects of the judiciary.

To wit: Miers’ family owned part of a Superfund site that the state had condemned in order to construct a freeway onramp. Texas District Judge Donald Evans, after receiving $5,000 in campaign contributions from Miers’ law firm, appointed Harriet’s close friend Peggy Lundy and rabid eminent domain opponent Cathie Adams to the three-person panel charged with valuing disputed half-acre. The tribunal awarded $106,915 – nearly twenty times the assessed value. Further wrangling reduced the price by $26,000, a sum Miers has yet to repay.

Meanwhile, Harriet’s responses to a Senate questionnaire have been vastly underwhelming. Sen. Pat Leahy (D-VT) called her answers “inadequate” and noted that other Senators found they “ranged from incomplete to insulting.” A puzzled Judiciary Chairman Arlen Specter (R-PA) said, “I really can’t explain it,” and mused that she could benefit from “a crash course in constitutional law.”

With storm clouds gathering, Karl Rove made a not-so-secret phone call to radio evangelist and long-time Specter adversary James Dobson, whereby Dobson gleaned things he “probably shouldn’t know… and can’t describe because of confidentiality.” In return, the Judiciary Committee threatened to subpoena Dobson, who once described Specter’s advocacy of reproductive rights and stem-cell research as “a big-time problem.” Undeterred, Dobson set out to spread the gospel by arranging a conference call among Gary Bauer, Elmer Gantry and Arthur Dimmsdale along with Texas judges Nathan Hecht and Ed Kinkeade. During the course of the exchange, the magistrates were asked “Based on your personal knowledge of her, if she had the opportunity, do you believe she would vote to overturn Roe v. Wade?” “Absolutely,” beamed Kinekade. “I concur,” Hecht proudly added.

Not all Born Agains are obsessed with populating our land with unwanted crack babies. Members of the American Family Association and the Pro-Life Action league are focused on boycotting American Girl dolls this Christmas season. The toy company supports the Girls, Inc. charity, which the AFA characterizes as a “pro-abortion, pro-lesbian advocacy group.” I was ready to dismiss the whole story until I perused American Girl’s catalog and discovered that Felicity and Elizabeth are described as “best friends” with “huggable bodies.” Claims that Molly is running an abortion clinic, however, seemed preposterous given the overabundance of mini dolls gracing their pages. Meanwhile, the supposedly pro-family Parents Television Council is slamming Fox TV for airing Family Guy and American Dad simply because “characters are shown having sex and topics such as masturbation, incest, bestiality, and necrophilia are routinely discussed.” What exactly is their point?

This holier-than-thou business is wearing thin; no matter how you frame it, James Dobson advising grown men to shower with little boys is depraved. And now comes the revelation that former hostage Ashley Smith fabricated her story of divine intervention. Held captive in her apartment by fugitive Atlanta gunman Brian Nichols, Smith originally claimed to subdue her captor by reading aloud from the chapter “Using What God Gave Me” in Pastor Rick Warren’s “The Purpose-Driven Life.” We now learn that what God gave her was an eight ball of crystal meth that she duly shared with her assailant. Apparently, Nichols, a crank proselyte, got so tweaked he just stumbled out the door. Having shaken so many people’s faith, Smith could only offer, “It’s hard for people to understand the miracle of the story.” Amen to that.

Time may well be the greatest thief.  It loiters in the shadows before sauntering out to callously rob our heroes of the very attributes which brought them fame or fortune. The notion of an addled Ronald Reagan silently propped on a couch or of Michael Jordan in a Washington Wizards uniform, straining to lift a basketball to the level of the rim endures as a pathetic coda to rather brilliant history.  This inexorable decline is even more precipitous for our ersatz heroes (e.g. movie stars) for whom imagery – and not substance – is the fount of notoriety.  Vin Diesel’s decay, unlike that of, say, Stephen Hawking, will simply be too obvious to go unnoticed.  And there’s the rub.  What, for example, becomes of a Sylvester Stallone who can’t even make it on television?  Truth be told, Sly has been reduced to marketing a line of ready-to-eat protein-rich puddings.  Pitiful.  Hey, am I the only guy who thinks that protein pudding sounds kinda gay?   You know, like throat yogurt.  Does Sly offer gay flavors like Castro Street Cappuccino and Fire Island Fudge?  I certainly hope not.  Regardless, even Stallone realizes that man cannot survive on pudding alone.  As such, the aging action star is resuscitating both the Rocky and Rambo franchises in a desperate attempt to turn back the clock.

Not so for fellow has-been hulk Arnold Schwarzenegger. After the mega failure of Terminator 3, there wasn’t enough pulse in his film career to marshal a revival. So Arnie, flabby gut and all, turned to politics where he enjoys, as California’s governor, a lower approval rating (31%) than President Bush (38%). In a feckless attempt to lure back voters, Schwarzenegger signed a law banning the sale of ultra violent video games to minors. Never mind that he made his fortune peddling ultra violent movies. Audaciously, he is seeking to cut school funding (having already stolen $2 billion from the education budget) even though he launched his political career on the back of a 2002 ballot initiative which expanded after school programs. Time has also pinched Arnold’s sense of comedic timing the latest standardized tests reveal 40% of the state’s students are below the basic proficiency level. As Russlynn Ali, executive director of the Education Trust puts it, “No matter how you look at this data, California is at the bottom.” Yet the larger issue is that Herr Gropenator’s hypocrisy is being unfortunately mistaken by pundits as an Austrian thing when, in reality, it is a Republican thing. The Austrian thing – for those scoring at home -is keeping Turkey out of the European Union while stridently insisting, these many years later, that you were subjugated by, rather than willingly obeisant to, Hitler.

Republicans, at least those not under indictment, are consumed with shouting down any citizen who dares to question the administration. Seniors opposed to privatizing Social Security are guilty of sedition, legislators wanting to investigate FEMA’s response to Katrina are traitors and anyone that enumerates our failures in Iraq is unpatriotic. Yet when President Clinton committed troops to Bosnia, Sen. Rick Santorum carped, “[The] President… is once again releasing American military might on a foreign country with an ill-defined objective and no exit strategy. He has yet to tell the Congress how much this operation will cost. And he has not informed our nation`s armed forces about how long they will be away from home. These strikes do not make for a sound foreign policy.” Sean Hannity then barked: “Explain to the mothers and fathers of American servicemen that may come home in body bags why their son or daughter have to give up their life?” Were Hannity and Santorum unpatriotic? Not according to Tom DeLay who huffed, “You can support the troops but not the president.” Apparently, that ability has lapsed.

But then again, DeLay also quipped, “If I spend money on lawyers, I won’t have time and money for the Republican Party.” Ironically, DeLay, who routinely threatens lobbyists who hire or contribute to Democrats, now finds himself paying heaps of wampum to high-profile Democratic attorney Dick DeGuerin. Not to worry, DeGuerin isn’t susceptible to debasement his former defendants make Alan Dershowitz’s clientele look like guests at the Last Supper. Dick successfully defended a millionaire who dismembered a neighbor, a clergyman who molested a parishioner and a businessman who violated a trade embargo and sold $28 million of pipe coating to Momar Kadafi.

When not litigating, DeGuerin is busy doling out checks to Left Wing political campaigns and in fact supports DeLay’s expected 2006 Congressional opponent Nick Lampson. Dear God, what could be more delicious than Lampson (a victim of Texas’ redistricting) returning to the Capitol using legal fees extracted from his opponent? The answer, of course, is DeLay locked behind bars, his arrogance deracinated not by the passage of time, but by his fellow inmates’ insatiable need to celebrate the Supreme Court’s decision to overturn Texas’ ban on sodomy.

It is often said that events of the past repeat themselves. A useful exercise, therefore, would be to revisit ancient times, such as when the Roman Empire used military might and technological prowess to hold sway over much of the civilized world. Plundering, raping, vomiting; life was good. Sure, there were occasional setbacks like the Punic Wars and the aberrant unconquered foe like Hannibal Al Zarqawi, but overall, the toga and tunic crowd had it pretty damn good. That is until the infamous Julius W. Caesar forced his way onto the throne. This power grab marked the beginning of the end for Romans — Senators and plebeians alike — and was precipitated by Caesar’s decision to bring soldiers into the city. For obvious reasons, the government forbade the army’s presence within the capital. But W. repealed the centuries-old ban, first enacted by Posse Comitatus, in response to the threat of the dreaded Avian Flu. As an unfaithful spouse might explain, one thing led to another and, well, the rest is history. The decline of this once great empire is well documented; suffice it to say that today it is but a third rate bastion of corruption known for little more than passable wines and unreliable automobiles.

Amid all the ruins, perhaps the viaduct stands as the most enduring symbol of Roman achievement. Even today, the notion of a bridge frequently serves as a political metaphor. President Clinton unendingly spoke of creating a bridge to the 21st Century. The current administration is mocked as one that squanders our trifling resources on bridges to nowhere. Well, not exactly nowhere. Alaska’s Gravina Island does support 50 people, fellow citizens who simply can no longer do with their aging ferryboat. So Republicans allocated $223 million to build them a bridge taller than the one that goes to Brooklyn (pop. 2.5 million).

One should expect this kind of wanton largesse to revive the President’s flagging poll numbers. But no. What with the Senate and House leadership under investigation, indictments pending against Bush’s inner circle, and government officials in handcuffs, there’s only one thing Rove can do. Issue another terror alert. But the polity, after four years of false alarms, is beginning to catch on. It now takes only days as opposed to months for the truth to come out. Authorities now concede that interrogators knew the plot to blow up New York’s subways on Sunday was all a hoax. Though an informant admitted giving phony information and three detained Iraqis supposedly linked to the plan failed lie detector tests, the administration chose to keep us on tenterhooks. No matter, the tactic of scaring the public into submission is losing efficacy now that our bodyguards over at Homeland Security have been exposed as a clutch of feckless cronies. It took them three years to catch a spy working right under Dick Cheney’s nose. If Dick’s cardiologist had taken that long to discover those pesky aneurysms, Cheney would be dead by now. But that’s just wishful thinking. All the while, Leandro Aragoncillo, a former Marine and FBI analyst, had ample opportunity to downloaded dozens of classified documents. Due to the depth and scale of infiltration, the security implications of the breach will take months to sort out.

In the meantime, the war on terror ceaselessly grinds on. Some days with bombs, other days with words. Intikab Habib, on the cusp of being sworn in as a Muslim chaplain in the New York City Fire Department, cast doubt on the culpability of Al Qaeda’s September 11 operatives: “Nowhere ever in history did a steel building come down with fire alone. It takes two or three weeks to demolish a building like that. But it was pulled down in a couple of hours. Was it 19 hijackers who brought it down, or was it a conspiracy?” FDNY commissioner Nicholas Scoppetta quickly revoked the appointment and issued the following understatement: “Based on comments he made to Newsday, Imam Intikab Habib would have been unable to effectively serve in the role he was appointed to.” Yeah, especially from under the bumper of a hook and ladder.

On the other side, Boeing executives apologized for an ad showing a V-22 Osprey delivering troops onto the roof of a smoldering mosque along with the caption: “It descends from the heavens. Ironically, it unleashes hell. it delivers Special Forces to insertion points never thought possible.” Though Mary Foerster, a defense unit V.P., said, “We consider the ad offensive, regret its publication and apologize to those who like us are dismayed with its contents,” the results left her nothing short of giddy. Because of the promo, the controversial aircraft (23 Marines killed in two crashes) finally secured Pentagon approval for full-scale production. After 20 years of performance failures and military cover-ups, the corporation no doubt relishes the $19 billion deal.

As part of rebuilding its terrorist scholarship program, Al Qaeda has established the Armstrong Williams school of Journalism. In conjunction, the organization is airing a thinly veiled newscast called “Voice of the Caliphate.” In last week’s inaugural broadcast, they reported: “The entire Islamic world overflowed with joy when Hurricane Katrina struck America.Broken and completely humiliated, George Bush . . . announced his obvious incapability to deal with the wrath of Allah.” But Al Qaeda better watch its mouth. Because broken or not, Bush has a personal relationship with our God; he once told Palestinian officials, “God would tell me, ‘George, go and fight those terrorists.George, go and end the tyranny in Iraq.’ And I did. And now again, I feel God’s words coming to me.” Perhaps it’s no coincidence then, that shortly after the broadcast, a massive earthquake rocked northern Pakistan and took out twenty times the number of victims lost to Katrina. As George might ask, whose God is the bitch now?

When former House Leader Tom DeLay characterized his conspiracy charge as “one of the weakest and most baseless indictments in American history,” District Attorney Ronnie Earle was listening attentively. As a result, two new indictments have been handed down, including one for money laundering. If convicted on all three counts, Tommy Boy could spend the rest of his years behind bars, where his identity as “The Hammer” will no doubt fade under the weight of makeshift tattoos and repeated anal bleaching. Meanwhile, DeLay’s golfing buddy, Jack Abramoff, may soon be implicated in a Fort Lauderdale gangland-style slaying. The victim, Gus Boulis, had sold a gaming business to Abramoff and a long-time partner who later wrote $240,000 worth of checks to two of the assailants. While the defense claims these payments were for “catering services,” it is unlikely that a pre-trial plea will truncate the story because Boulis was sprayed with bullets before Florida’s “shoot first” gun law went into effect.

The administration’s procurement chief, David Safavian, was also taken into custody this week. Authorities arrested Safavian at his Alexandria home where he is rumored to have stashed $8.5 billion in missing Iraqi reconstruction funds. Concurrently, Times reporter Judith Miller was getting out of jail after giving herself permission to testify in the Valerie Plame case. Backed by mounting evidence, Special Prosecutor Patrick Fitzgerald is reportedly mulling a move against White House puppet master Karl Rove and Cheney’s other bitch, Scooter Libby.

It’s pucker time in Washington, and in the wake of Katrina and Rita, the Capital remains on high alert; sophisticated early warning systems are now predicting a shit storm of Biblical proportions. Skittish Republicans are already bailing out. Congressional candidate Marilyn Bowers, seeking a vacated California seat, declared, “I stand side by side with Ronald Reagan on less taxes and less government.” Hell, why stop at Reagan, why not dredge up Dwight Eisenhower or James Madison? Notably, not only did Bowers distance herself from Bush fils, she avoided Bush pere as well. As for Junior, his drooling, Mongoloid countenance simply cannot belie his terror – he knows what’s coming and it shows. Amidst the night sweats and searing bouts of irritable bowel syndrome, the President fashioned a crude and flagrant scheme to protect himself; he would elevate his personal attorney to the Supreme Court.

Conservatives are aghast at the nomination of Harriet Miers, ostensibly because of her dearth of experience and her advocacy of full civil rights for gays and lesbians. During her tenure on the Dallas city council, she said the municipality should pay for AIDS education and patient services. The whisper circuit (as in the case of Chief Justice Roberts) is painting Harry as a closet homo – never married, no kids and, well, just look at her. I’ll admit that the butch hairdo (Janet Reno, Eleanor Roosevelt) and invisible upper lip (Melissa Etheridge, Jody Foster) compose a rather Sapphic portrait, but Liberals shouldn’t rejoice just yet.

Miers opposed repealing a Texas statue, since overturned by the U.S. Supreme Court, which outlawed sodomy. Her former campaign manager, Lorlee Bartos, describes her as being “on the extreme end of the anti-choice movement,” an assessment corroborated by Miers’s donation to the Texans for Life Coalition. The notion that a lesbian on the Supreme Court could be inimical to freedoms enjoyed by gays or women is not without precedent: Why, who hates black people more than Clarence Thomas? Well, maybe Bill Bennett. Mr. Virtue is under broad attack for racist comments made during his radio show: “But I do know that it’s true that if you wanted to reduce crime, you could — if that were your sole purpose, you could abort every black baby in this country, and your crime rate would go down.” But that wasn’t the worst of it. During the same broadcast Bennett picked the Patriots to cover at home and predicted Woke Up Dreamin’ would capture the Vosburg Stakes at Belmont. As the weekend drew to a close, Bennett’s bookie, Willie Jefferson, vowed to “double the vig on that honkey mother-fucker.”

With House Majority leader Tom Delay under indictment, the Senate Majority Leader, Bill Frist, shoulders the arduous task of feigning innocence while defending Martha Stewart-like charges regarding the prescient sale of his HCA stock. HCA owns 200 hospitals and was founded by Frist’s father; his brother currently sits on the board. So the idea that Dr. Frist wasn’t warned about a lousy earnings report is a tough pill to swallow. And because company insiders disgorged 2.3 million of their own shares before announcing weak results, they, along with the Senator, avoided a 15% hit. As the SEC and U.S. Attorney investigate the transaction, spokesperson Amy Call remains sententious: “His only objective in selling the stock was to eliminate the appearance of a conflict of interest.” Asked if his conscience suddenly pricked up after ten years of operating on healthcare legislation, Call flippantly rebutted, “I don’t know that he’s been worried about it in the past.” Here’s the point: Who would worry when the stock, despite HCA’s $1.7 billion Medicare fraud settlement, was busy tripling in value? Making matters worse, Frist took control over shares that were supposed to be a blind trust. Terri Schiavo, as it turned out, was blind, while the portfolio was anything but. It was supposed to be the other way around.

Inexorably, the business of Washington (namely, corruption) grinds on. Committee hearings have been called to assess the government’s no-bid response to Katrina, although after über lobbyist James Albertine giggled, “They are throwing money out – they are shoveling it out the door,” little more needs to be said. As if by rote, the feds cut the first checks to Halliburton. After exhausting their list of regular cronies (Haley Barbour, Joe Allbaugh), bureaucrats got uncharacteristically creative. Inspired by New Orleans’ floating corpses, FEMA paid Carnival Cruise lines $236 million to house evacuees on three nearby cruise ships. The deal is so rich that it would be cheaper by half for the government to book everyone on an all-inclusive Caribbean cruise, with guests enjoying myriad on-deck activities, top shelf entertainment, and an unlimited array of food-borne pathogens. President Bush has further directed that any government funds left over be given to churches lest they forget vote Republican in ’06. Christ, the proceedings have become so fatuous that Michael Brown was rehired to investigate his own failings.

The Democrats, unable to secure equal billing, are for the most part boycotting the hearings. Members on the Right are desperate to cover their own ass – a good idea now that David Drier (R-CA) assumes a top position on The Hill – especially in light of recently un-redacted portions of the 9/11 report. To wit: The FAA was advised as far back as 1998 that Al Qaeda could “seek to hijack a commercial jet and slam it into a U.S. landmark,” and that Logan airport was cited for “security weakness or violations” while Dulles had “a number of problems and vulnerabilities.” Had this information come out a year ago, it is doubtful Bush could have stolen a second election.

It is said that thievery and prostitution are as old as the hills. Last week I hired this perky young escort online, although she turned out to be a sagging old crone who stole my wallet. Not quite the rarified terra of smuggled antiquities, but solid evidence nonetheless. Meanwhile, Italian authorities are asking the Getty Museum to return 42 objects presumed looted from archeological sites. Mistakes do happen – even the venerable Metropolitan had to return some First Dynasty pottery to Egypt – but the scope here suggests something else. The museum was secretly purchasing smuggled objects even as curator Marion True stated publicly: “If serous efforts to establish a clear pedigree for the object’s recent past prove futile, it is most likely – if not certain – that it is the product of the illicit trade, and we must accept responsibility for this fact.” The accusations are hardly new; acting curator Arthur Houghton resigned in 1986 predicting the institution’s “cultural avarice” would eventually prove problematic. A year later a Getty trustee commented on one acquisition: “We know it’s stolen, [the dealer] Symes is a fence.” In 1993, True received an Interpol cable describing a gold funerary wreath as stolen. She hastily wrote to the item’s peddler: “I am afraid that in our case it is something that is too dangerous for us to be involved with.” Six months later, she bought the piece.

Could there be a more heinous violation of the Eighth Commandment? How about stealing someone’s cancer medication… or perhaps her baby. Enter Angelina Jolie. The actress threatened to sue London’s Sun newspaper for publishing an interview with an Ethiopian woman claiming to be the biological mother of the recently adopted Zahara Marlie. Jolie insisted the girl’s parents were quite dead at the time she obtained custody, but, as it turns out, the birth mother, one Mentewab Dawit, is unmistakably alive. Apparently the little girl was sold, er, put up for adoption by her grandmother. Under Ethiopian law, if the mother does not formally consent, the adoption is rendered illegal. Luckily, Dawit has come to favor the current arrangement: “I want to say thank you to Angelina for giving my baby this wonderful, loving family… In the future I would like to know about her condition, but I will never try to interfere with their lives.”

With these Hollywood types, the future, unfortunately, is a total crapshoot. One minute you’re starring in blockbusters and the next you’re lucky to get a low-budget supporting role (think: Michael Keaton). Who knows, maybe during Angelina’s next trip to Africa, Brad will bang the nanny (think: Jude Law), or Billy Bob Thornton (think: Rock Hudson). It is not beyond the imagination that in a few years Brad could be banging little Zahara (think: Woody Allen). Hey, at some point, childhood ends. So get over it. In fact mine ended just this month. Because we grew up without nannies, our folks plopped us in front of the TV when they needed to get drunk with the neighbors. Back then the Brady and Partridge moms had their hands full and I thought of Jeannie and Samantha in less matronly terms. Basically, the parenting was left to Gilligan and Maxwell Smart. Their untimely passing leaves me orphaned and forces me, kicking and screaming, to accept some fractured sense of adulthood.