We Do Like Cuban Food, But....

As some of you may have heard, this morning the Sergeant-at-Arms of the United States Senate spent some time with a satire I recently posted. The short piece under consideration involved Senator Joseph Lieberman, blood-libel, and a parody of Pat Robertson's evangelical calls for the assassination of Presidente Hugo Chavez.

You may also have heard, in a totally unrelated development, that we were unable to access our blog for some time after discovering the Sergeant's interest in our prose.

As some of you also know, The Swill's nostalgia for writs of habeas corpus is tied to an ordinary fear of extraordinary rendition: remember, that's what the newspapers call the state-sponsored-kidnapping wherein people are whisked off to be tortured in Uzbekhistan rather than being charged with a crime in the U.S.

Did we mention that you should always pay your taxes?

Consequently, while asserting no causal relationship and while admitting no complicity or liability in any matters whatsoever, we have removed the part about Lieberman. Anyway, all it really meant was that, in our opinion, Senator Joseph Lieberman is a cheap shill for the corporate elite, a low-rent bullyboy who plays upon the worst instincts of fear and jingoism, and should be called a "public representative" only in the broadest, loosest, most degraded sense of the words "public" and "representative." Hardly a new sentiment for anybody who's followed the guy's career.

We hope that somebody with money will send it to Ned Lamont.

Of course we're paranoid. By definition, however, paranoia magically becomes prescience with a single midnight knock on your door. Our next installment will relate purely to shoes. Not allegorical shoes, either. Just shoes.