It's hard not to vent about Paul Wolfowitz's flagrant lack of character and credentials. But I'll do my best. It's easy to go for the jugular when a public figure screws up - low-hanging fruit of bloggers and reporters alike.
So try as we might... we can't ignore this grinning Bush goon. One has to be smart to get into this kind of trouble. Foxy smart... with some guts to match one's lack of a conscience.
Bush appointed Wolfowitz back in 2005. (Prior to that, he was known as the principle architect of the lovely skirmish in Iraq.) As President of the World Bank, he presided over some 10,000 employees. One of those 10,000 would prove to be his downfall.
Shaha Riza entered Wolfowitz's life and became a romantic interest. And he responded by promoting her up the ladder, with tax-free bonuses, boosting her salary into six-figures.
Well ain't that special. A little love on the side - and a payoff to boot. Some women are hard to keep happy - and in this case, damn near impossible.
Call it a crime of passion.
Everyone knows...whether you're managing a Wendy's restaurant or the Whitehouse staff - you cannot, should not, must not have direct control of a romantic partner or relative. Yet this type of hanky-panky goes on ALL THE TIME.
So Wolfowitz got burned. He was forced to resign. (I call that a time-release firing...since no one at the top of the pyramid ever sees a pink slip.)
Then he has the nerve to tell the AP, "I think it tells us more about the media than about the bank and I'll leave it at that." In other words... he was not responsible for...anything. It's a classic 'spin cycle' defense.
Well, not to worry... "Wolfy" will be fine... he's mined a pretty penny out of his various government contacts... and enjoyed a tax-free salary all the while. Bravo, Wolfy, the system was you - and you beat the system.
So where does that leave us? Among the weeds, of course.
As we approach 2008, a critical election year, the pols trot out their weed-wackers. They bonk each other on the heads with rubber mallets and toss accusations like frisbees in the spring air. The grass appears greener - the garden flourishes.
Then the event is upon us - an election occurs. And the weed-wackers are put away. Back comes the undergrowth... up comes the crab grass... stifling and corrupting everything in its path. It's back to politics as usual.
I hate Wolfowitz as much as I admire him. In some strange way, he's achieved the American dream. We all know he's gone about it the wrong way, at least in part. But he's there all the same... not in a jail cell... not fearing for his life... not threatened by bad resume references. So what gives?
That's a question we should all critically ask when reviewing the course of human events.