William Rivers Pitt Vomits Up Apocalyptic Visions

The most important thing you need to know about Pied Piper Pitt's latest RANT in DUmmieland titled, "Allow me, if you please, to freak you out...," is WHEN it was posted. 4:20 A.M. on Sunday morning. Right away that tells us it was a DRUNKEN rant posted after a long night of binge drinking at Bukowski's. The heavy drinking for Pitt is necessary to kill the pain of public HUMILIATION over the Non-Indictment That Dare Not Speak Its Name. In addition, Pitt has now become a NON-PERSON over at the Progressive Democrats of America site where "his" blog no longer even bears his name much less his blogs. This also means a loss of the PDA expense account that covered much of Pitt's heavy drinking which he must now pay for out of his own pocket since his TruthOut "refreshment" funds have also dried up due to lack of contributions due to the Hoaxmas scandal. So there we have Pied Piper Pitt hitting one drink after another late Saturday night into Sunday morning trying to drown out the pain. The pain of public humiliation over Hoaxmas. The pain of a shattered political career that died before it was even born. And most of all, the pain coming from the knowledge that he will never ever be taken seriously again except for a handful of DUmmies. Such dark thoughts, abetted by copious quantities of alcohol, are sure to lead to apocalyptic thoughts. Not through any rational analysis of the geopolitical situation (remember Pitt is the one who postulated that the Third American Empire was born when happy American fans screamed "USA! USA!" when the Americans beat the Soviet Union in ice hockey during the 1980 Winter Olymics) but from the desperate hope that the entire world will be dragged down to his own miserable condition. Yes, it was a long Saturday night/Sunday morning. The many drinks at Bukowski's did little to kill the pain despite a forced happy face front put on for Ty the Bouncer and Pitt's other drinking buddies (mainly because he pays for their drinks). Finally came the time to leave Bukowki's and stagger your way home to confront the demons of your own miserable existence. The sickening nature of this condition plus your alcohol pickled stomach caused you to violently vomit up the imbibings of the long evening until you could retch no more. Sleep is not an option due to a chronic case of insomnia. So what to do? What you always do when in such a pathetic situation...vomit up nonsense in DUmmieland. Yes, you have recently been forced to avoid your favorite pastime---making erroneous predictions for fear of bringing up memories of Hoaxmas but now you are desperate. So you tap away at the keyboard with predictions and not just of the relatively mundane variety as you have before such as some obscure paper filed in an equally obscure Ohio courthouse that could possible tip the 2004 election to Kerry. No, this time you go for broke. An entire world consumed in apocalyptic flames. A post that tells us much more about Pitt himself than the actual condition of the world. A post that tells us that Pied Piper Pitt envisions himself going up in flames in a mighty apocalyptic conflagration. "Made it, Ma! Top of the world!" So let us now watch Pied Piper Pitt drunkenly stagger into the demons of his personal apocalypse in Bolshevik Red while the commentary of your humble correspondent, pouring vodka on the flames of the Burning Pitt, is in the [brackets]:

Allow me, if you please, to freak you out...

[You're going to remove your shirt?]

It is easy enough to hold the violence unfolding in the Middle East at arm's length if you are an American, especially if you are an American whose knowledge of the vast complexities of the situation comes from the television news. It is easy enough to hold it all at arm's length because, goodness knows, you've heard enough about Mideast violence already over the last several years.

[It's easy enough to hold a glass of vodka at arm's length. Oh wait! It's not easy so I'll just lighten the load by tossing it down my throat.]

It may even be something of a relief to have all this unfold, because it has managed to drown out coverage of the daily drumbeat of Iraq carnage. If you are an American with a media-trained short attention span, you might even be able to pretend, for a while anyway, that the Iraq thing isn't really that important anymore. If it was important, they'd be covering it, right?

[And Pied Piper Pitt is quite the expert in drowning things out.]

Besides, you're safe. The Bush administration has spent an enormous amount of time and energy convincing you that you're covered, that they've got your back, that they are all about the defense of the homeland. Nothing else has been blown up over here since 9/11, so they must be doing something right. And besides, violence between Israel, Lebanon and Hezbollah is so totally 80's, anyway.

[You're safe, Pitt. Bukowski's remains your personal haven protecting you from the cruel world out there.]

Let's roll one version of the tape to the end.

[You mean the Will Pitt, alcohol induced, version of the tape to the end.]

The military build-up on the border between Israel and Lebanon is ostensibly aimed at Hezbollah guerillas, but it isn't too long of a drive between that build-up and the Syrian border. If enough people get nervous on either side, or if Syria decides to flex its muscles on behalf of its proxy fighters in Lebanon, or if Israel decides to strike the root instead of the stalk, then all of a sudden we have a firefight between two serious powers.

[Blah-blah--ba-bla-ba-BLAH! Will Pitt now regurgitating items he scanned from the news in order to pretend that he is some sort of geopolitical expert.]

Syria and Iran signed a mutual defense pact not so long ago, which means fighting one is tantamount to fighting both. This isn't terribly daunting to the Israeli military, because there are not many combinations of military powers in the region that can challenge their conventional warfare might.

[The main thing Pitt needs to know about the military situation in the Mideast is that he can always drink the antifreeze of the tanks for the alcohol content if necessary.]

The fight starts for real, and the first thing Israel does is establish control of the air. The Israeli air force chews up the Syrian and Iranian air forces at speed, and then begins to attack basic infrastructure: power grids, fuel depots, bridges, communications centers, anti-aircraft batteries and any troop or armor concentrations it comes across in the process.

[How long to establish control of the air? 24 business hours?]

Stage two, once air dominance is established, will be Israel attacking and destroying any and all troop, armor and artillery forces deployed by Syria and Iran. They will do this to great effect, and follow it up with their own troops and armor. Syria and Iran will find themselves, very rapidly, almost entirely outmatched.

[Stage two, a top secret lockdown meeting on the 4th floor of Patton Boggs.]

But Syria and Iran are not entirely without fangs. Iran's batteries of Sunburst missiles are unleashed from their mountainous shoreline overlooking the Persian Gulf, and a number of heavy American warships are hit and sunk, because the Sunburst has the capability of defeating Aegis radar systems. Iran likewise has the ability to, overnight, bring their fight against Israel to the American soldiers in Iraq. Iran's Shiite allies all across Iraq introduce a whole new front in that struggle.

[And every little piece of this puzzle fitting together just as Pitt forsees it. Just like how Karl Rove was indicted on May 12.]

Somewhere in this, the oil spigot in Iran is either disrupted or deliberately shut off. The global economy rocks and rolls. China, whose multi-billion dollar oil deals with Iran provides their economy a desperately needed infusion, feels the shortage severely. An ominous possibility arises, only darkly muttered previously because the ramifications are too dire to contemplate. That possibility, simply, is China's ability, with their vast holdings of American debt, to annihilate the American economy with five simple words: "We want our money back." At a minimum, China becomes a major player in the situation.

[The alcohol is talking very loudly here. This apocalyptic vision of the future isn't just based on a simple premise. No, Pitt is brazenly setting forth a complex series of prophetic visions. And knowing his track record for predictions, should we all prepare now for the End of Times?]

As if this were not bad enough, Syria is pressed into a corner by Israel's effective attacks. The Syrian leadership realizes Israel isn't simply pushing them, punishing them or attempting to bomb them to the negotiating table. Israel is out for blood and intends to topple the Syrian government. Syria's commanders, facing extinction, break the seal on the final option: their stockpile of chemical weaponry. Gas bombs are used against Israeli troops, and explode within Israel's borders.

[Prophetic vision piled upon prophetic vision. Alcohol is such an effective lubricant for inspiring such visions, mostly of the double vision variety.]

And we're off to the races.

[And we're off to the races. Can I place a bet on Rove Indictment in the 12th?]

Israel, erupting with rage, turns Syria and Iran into glass. An explosion of rage envelops the Middle East, and even the Arab governments who chastised Hezbollah are forced to choose between opposing Israel or being themselves toppled by the swell. The eruption is most acute in Pakistan, whose hard-core fundamentalists are umbilically and spiritually tied to their Taliban neighbors in Afghanistan.

[You left Tibet out of the equation, Pitt. And how does the Morrocan olive futures market affect this situation?]

Pervez Musharraf is faced with a sudden revolution, both from his population and from within the ranks of his Taliban-friendly military. His government is toppled, and all of a sudden, a nuclear power has been overthrown by Islamic extremists. The American military unit in Pakistan, whose sole purpose is to secure and remove that nations' nuclear arsenal in the event of revolt, loses the race to get hold of the weapons.

[Been reading Tom Clancy while drunk, Pitt?]

India reacts with unutterable terror, as does China and Russia and every other neighbor in the immediate region. Worse, the ultimate nightmare has become real. There are, all of a sudden, loose nukes walking the Earth.

[Even worse, Andorra doesn't react at all.]

If this last Pakistani bit seems too farfetched, someone should let the editors of the Los Angeles Times know. The following appeared in the Opinion section of their Sunday edition: "Al Qaeda has had Pakistani President Pervez Musharraf in its sights for years, and the organization finally gets its man. Pakistan descends into chaos as militants roam the streets and the army struggles to restore order. India decides to exploit the vacuum and punish the Kashmir-based militants it blames for the recent Mumbai railway bombings. Meanwhile, U.S. special operations forces sent to secure Pakistani nuclear facilities face off against an angry mob."

[Meanwhile, Bukowski's is forced to temporarily close its door to its most loyal patron due to a health department inspection.]

Meanwhile, back in America, terror strikes begin to take place all across the country. It was, after all, the violence between Israel, Palestine and Lebanon back in the 1980's that inspired men like Ramsi Yousef to attack the World Trade Center in the first place. The government is powerless to stop these attacks, because anti-terror funding has been redirected to bean festivals in Indiana instead of major capitols and seats of infrastructure, and because the first-warning intelligence services have been savaged in an ideological purge.

[Meanwhile, back in America, a terror strike targets a Boston Beer Festival. Pitt wept.]

"Red Alert" is announced. Martial law is declared, posse comitatus and habeas corpus are suspended, and the Constitution of the United States is indefinitely put on the shelf. Elections are cancelled, and a sense of permanent emergency is impressed upon a cowed and unprepared populace by a pliant news media.

[And, worst of all, Happy Hour at Bukowski's is cancelled as Pied Piper Pitt feverishly works to fit more pieces into his complex apocalyptic vision puzzle.]

Sleep tight.

[Sleep tight unless you suffer from chronic insomnia and haven't slept since April...2005. And now to hear from the sleepless DUmmies.]

thanks for the bedtime story

[Yeah, it put me right to sleep.]

Lets hope he has had one beer too many. I am depressed enough already

[Make that 10 beers too many.]

Sounds like a great story line... for Movie of the Week, but you're stretching a bit.

[Just a bit?]

Someone once said that America is only three missed meals away from total chaos.

[In your case, Will, make that three missed six-packs away from total chaos.]

So ? An asteroid could slam into the earth an annihilate us all.... Whats your point other than speculation about one of many probable outcomes ? That being said, I do understand speculation and the power it holds for most. I also understand it for what it is... speculation.

[I'm speculating that Karl Rove was indicted on May 12.]

Your worst-case scenario is plausible, but unlikely... Several elements are likely, like Pakistan's Musharraf being toppled (with Pak nukes falling into al Qaeda's hands). But I just can't see Iran & Syria risking everything by going to war with Israel and, by proxy, the US.

[Don't you get Pitt's shtick yet? His worse case scenario doesn't have to happen for him to take credit as a great prophet. All that has to happen is that just one small element of his complex scenario of events has to work as "predicted" in even a most a periperal way for Pitt to claim credit as the Great Prophet of our times so he can pop it into his resume in a desperate attempt to redeem himself, on the heels of his Hoaxmas Disaster, with Mama T's Boy Toy.]

Right. And Rove might be indicted tomorrow, too. Oh great conjurer of...whatever it is you conjure up around here. Granted the situation is serious, but give it a rest.

[And this DUmmie WINS a Will Pitt Kewpie Doll for having a brief moment of mental clarity.]

Sorry, I don't get "freaked out" over fiction. What is this? DU's version of The Rapture?

[It's the DUmmie version of The Rupture. The Rupture between Pitt's alcohol induced "visions" and reality.]

Will, you have *got* to get more sleep...

[As stated before, Will hasn't slept since April...2005.]

Drink less. Sleep more. Live longer and happier. Oh, Pitt: Tom Clancy called. He demands the return of his notebook, immediately. If you use the name "Jack Ryan", he promises to sue your pants off. You have 24 business hours to comply.

[LOL! Okay, I'm breaking my One Kewpie Doll Awarded Per Thread Rule just this once.]

Civil disobedience will take hold. We'll blame all of this on Bush and the Republicans, and even the Republican voter will run scared because they'll know we are right. What will happen is that even martial law will fail since the Democrats and Independents will be justified in calling for a presidential impeachment, the US will lose its super power status, and another country will step in and take its place. Maybe it will be China, maybe it will be Russia, but we will no longer be respected in the world.

[Another DUmmie Fantasy in which the EVIL USA loses its superpower status much to DUmmie Delight.]

Everything you have said is a quite reasonable series of events. Everything.

[Is that you, Jason Leopold?]

For your scenario to unfold, numerous events (which you plausibly describe, with well referenced facts) must occur precisely in sequence, without variance. If one of these players refuses to cooperate with your scenario, the whole thing falls apart.

[A player known as Patrick Fitzgerald refused to cooperate with Pitt's last scenario.]

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