Incendiary Advice

Complacent and caught, a cheating lover duly chastised will attempt to take his/her spouse on a trip, buy them something new and extravagant, be at their best behavior and work tirelessly to change the subject.

Beyond the first breach of trust, it's a working tactic only for the truly naive and gullible, a willing suspension of disbelief because the fear of leaving the comfort of a well-known environment for unchartered territory is often too great.

Both parties know it's a distraction. Nothing more, nothing less. It buys time to breathe, rethink, maneuver and the superficial comfort stemming from the status quo.

Country, meet your cheating spouse - George W. Bush.

Having been caught in the Plame Affair, George's best wooing face is frozen in a smile, the same old well-rehearsed lines issue forth as he attempts to hand us the Alito bauble. If that fails, he's still got the fear trump card of avian flu.

Regardless whether he's pleading, threatening or wooing, it's all pixie dust designed to change the subject.

For the first time since 2000, it's also unlikely to work. His job approval rating is in the toilet. When what remains of his loving throng try and point to poor ratings for previous presidents, they're also prevaricating. Clinton's job approval rating never fell below 57 percent:

http://www.pollingreport.com/clinton-.htm

Limbaughites and others use the "popularity" ratings of past presidents versus Bush's job approval ratings to compare apples and oranges; consider them the well-intentioned in-laws who hate to see their family torn asunder even as they admit the relationship's "not going so well."

Yet the handwriting is on the wall:

The trust train has left the station. And as any person with more than one serious relationship under his or her belt can attest, once suspicion outweighs trust, there's no turning back.

Call it the underlying, lingering sense of unease; our relationship with George W. Bush just isn't working out.

Sure, we had some laughs: who will forget his ingratiating smile in 2000, the endearing way he showed-off his more manly qualities by taking care of the Crawford Ranch "brush," that sweet, cajoling tone as he tried unsuccessfully to convince us that Enronizing Social Security would be good for us (baby)?

But those fond memories are going to take some time resurfacing; right now, we're still fixated on how he betrayed us with Katrina. How he promised us yellowcake from Niger and instead bought it at the corner grocery store. How he swore the cloud we stared at would become a mushroom. Yet we watched and it floated right on by, taking 2000 of our sons, husbands, uncles, aunts, mothers and daughters with it.

Absent the intervention of a qualified relationship counselor, or maybe even with one, this relationship is finally doomed by a breach of fundamental trust.

With the tired resigned sigh only an overburdened underappreciated spouse can really understand, we're done. We recognize the purpose and truth of cliches and country music: the ship has sailed. The train has left the station. It's all over but the goodbyes.



So, thanks for the Alito flowers and those spiffy well-lit declarations of love and understanding - but no thanks. All that's left is a way for you to exit gracefully.