Sullied Water Whirling Down the Bidet: Thinking About Paul Wolfowitz

I loathe everything the Mr. Wolfowitz stands for yet I pity him.

April 24, 2007 — Lugano ( — I have more than a few colleagues that work at The World Bank, both abroad and in Washington, and I hear almost every day now about the goings-on inside the bank as its board meets to decide the fate of Paul Wolfowitz — and most likely and indirectly his lover, who cannot survive as Mary Cheney’s mysterious and highly paid assistant if Wolfowitz departs in shame. 

The hallways of the World Bank are alive with shaking heads, nasty jokes, and worse, with Mr. Wolfowitz the butt.

At the Bank it seems he hasn’t a friend in the world.

Frankly I loathe everything the Mr. Wolfowitz stands for yet I pity him.

As an architect of the Iraq war, he, Richard Perle, Richard Cheney, Douglas Feith, and the poisonous ghouls in the background – and there are always those ghouls, Mr. Wolfowitz – sealed the deadly fate of many tens of thousands of innocent Iraqis and of course tens of thousands of American and coalition soldiers and contractors who were either murdered, shot to death, or maimed during the past several years.

As chief of the World Bank, Mr. Wolfowitz, a man with decidedly few scruples when it came to killing for oil and gas, made a disorderly pretense of trying to sanitize the terrible corruption that scars the administration of so many nations that have little in their treasuries and not enough in their leader’s pockets to propel them to be gentle to their people.

He forgot that America, England, France, and Spain were also once cesspools of corruption and that to rid a nation from the natural evils of man takes decades – even centuries.  Thus, he punished these nations by threatening to starve their innocent constituents or deny them medicine, roads, dams, and the entire infrastructure a nation needs to climb out of the mire and for which the World Bank provides loans.

At the Bank, Mr. Wolfowitz has had the opportunity to cleanse himself of some of the feces that will cling to him no matter how often he prays it is not so.

Instead he, like so many fluky, dimwitted, but intelligent men and women, wasted his opportunity and brought with him lackey assistants that were as appalling as he was in understanding that there truly is a greater good than balanced books, the pretense of "democracy," proper tax structures, and the requisite transformation from a backwater nation to a fledgling America.

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