Rat Fat Arafat

The U.S. State Department has long been a preserve for snobs and a culturing place for political correctness and other forms of smug Ivy League bigotry. Many of its elite corps are out-patients from the Kennedy School of Condescension. The “staties,” as they are sometimes called, consider themselves the carriage trade of the Washington bureaucracy. They are diplomatic tactical twerps who like to go “slumming.” The Department’s slum-of-choice is the Middle East, which is a lateral move, in that Washington D.C. itself is a Palestine of political parasites.]

It is the unwritten fiat at the U.S. State Department, before you earn your diplomatic pouch you must first learn to “make nice” with Yasser Arafat who they consider to be a kind of “user-friendly” terrorist. At the Department, Arafat is the “stray” that has been found and adopted as the mascot of the New World Order. In pursuit of legitimizing him, the State Department refers to him as “Chairman Arafat” - although after he’s been sitting in a chair for any length of time it is necessary to take it to any empty lot and burn it. Among the assorted envoys and envoy-ettes, support for this slob supercedes devotion to American interests. Embracing Arafat is their article of faith. When they recite the Pledge of Allegiance, his name is inserted instead of the flag. In fact, before you can be hired by the State Department you must first demonstrate an ability to identify Yasser Arafat’s ass on a silhouette chart. All “staties” must be indoctrinated in the dogma that Israel is an upstart nation, and its determination to retaliate for terrorist attacks is impolite and presumptuous. Arafat’s machinations dovetail neatly into the carefully manicured designs which State Department pantywaists find so cunning. These pragmatic ciphers know sucking up to Yasser Arafat is the surest way to achieve, not peace in the Middle East, but upward mobility for themselves in the Washington bureaucracy.

The State Department is a diplomatic day care center for small-time despots. Hence, one after another, diplomatic cliques have taken on Arafat as a forever reclamation project, even though renovating his character is a job tantamount to a cosmetic airbrushing of Charles Manson’s Wanted Poster. Indeed, 90% of the State Department’s efforts go to sanitizing the image of this thug. This is not easy to do with a guy who looks like a role model for winos and resembles Teddy Kennedy in his sixth month of trying to dry out. The way most drunks look in the morning is the way Arafat looks all day. This retrieval of his aura is no small task when you consider the guards on San Quentin’s Death Row hobnob with a better class of hoodlums.

Irrespective of how it rooted, it has become chapter and verse at State that the coddling of this barbarian is not only the concrete slab on which careers are built, but can still be passed off as a gadget for saving Humanity; this despite the fact that, for Yasser Arafat, a missed opportunity to bomb a shopping mall or machine-gun a passing school bus is a day without sunshine.

Successive State Departments of both parties have considered Yasser Arafat an orphan-at-large, to be fondled, mollycoddled and cocooned. State maintains a special embassy chef in Ramallah to rush to Arafat’s breakfast nook each morning to mash his banana for him. It further consolidates the affiliation that whenever Arafat enters a men’s room, an attaché from the American Legation will station himself outside of Yasser’s booth in case he wants someone to slide a magazine under the door.

Arafat’s fatal allure for America’s diplomatic sub functionaries is not entirely understood. Some attribute it to “Desert Madness”, an after-stubble lotion he wears. This klatch of international hobbyists and dabblers-with-portfolio have ordained that embrace of the Arafat physiological grotesqueness is a paradigm of their impeccable taste, even though Yasser’s face makes him a prime candidate for emergency electrolysis. After returning from his first meeting with Chairman Arafat, a State Department “newbie” of indeterminate gender reported in a paraphrase of Admiral Perry, “We have met the enemy and he is cute.”

Colin Powell considers himself The Great Conciliator, the Henry Kissinger of Jamaica, and the darling of interim governments everywhere. Should it prove expedient, he is likely to give Czechoslovakia back to the Third Reich. To be sure, this is a man Arafat knows he can do business with, although Arafat has less in common with Powell than with his predecessor, Madeleine Albright - particularly after he and Madame Albright discovered they wore the same size corset.

With his promoting the establishment of a Palestinian state, Powell brings the unmistakable message to the Middle East that “Terrorism pays.” In appreciation for championing this cause, Arafat has alluded, he may even abandon the name Palestine and call the new nation Powellenstine.

Consider “Peacemaker” Powell. It appears his missions to make sure our military efforts abort prematurely - somewhere between the beginning of the end and the end of the beginning - to keep any and all past, present, and future Presidents named Bush in a mindset between suggestive and irresolute - and to convince the incumbent Bush that Yasser Arafat can be housebroken. In furtherance of this, Powell is touring the Moslem nations of the Middle East murder belt with the authority to pronounce a mass exoneration of all terrorists. By his proximity to Powell, Bush has acquired the knack for taking the satisfaction out of victory.

The more Powell speaks of the blessings of peace the more demonstrable becomes the wisdom of a stalemate. The more Powell proposes there are two sides to every question the more firmly Israel is convinced there isn’t even one.

Here follows some conventional wisdom about “The Chairman” that might indeed be more than any tasteful person would really want to know.

Yasser Arafat’s exact age is unknown, but if he were a racehorse they would have shot him years ago. Anthropologists speculate that Arafat had never actually been born, but simply accumulated at the side of the road. Some geneticists have catalogued him as an “also-ran” in an earlier experiment in cloning.

As is said down in Dixie, if Yasser Arafat moved in next door to you your lawn would die. When Arafat gets on an elevator the other passengers will get off before it arrives at their floor. Picasso would carry Arafat's picture in his wallet, although the Palestinians made him their leader because he was the best looking guy among them. It‘s reported that his DNA can neutralize the curative properties of penicillin.

The only experience that could be worse than being Yasser Arafat is being married to him. In fact, the Arafats are not a particularly attractive couple. It is reported, on their wedding night they checked into a bridal suite wearing moon suits and would only attempt to arouse each other with ten foot poles.

Outside of Washington, it is next to impossible to perceive Yasser Arafat as anything other than esthetically objectionable. The only person who does not find him unsightly is his barber, who said of Arafat, “Go over him with a rake and you can take him anywhere.” In his dress uniform Arafat frequently is mistaken for the doorman at the La Brea Tar Pits. Before attending formal functions, his orderly puts the final touches on his attire by passing over him with a leaf blower. That washcloth he wears on his head looks like it landed at that angle after falling out of a passing 747. At airports, while other passengers are required to pass through a metal detector, Arafat is compelled to walk through a chute containing cattle dip.

Arafat appears to be in the late stages of a condition doctors (and tailors) call terminal scruffiness. He is an unkempt man who has never known the meaning of the word “kempt.” It is rumored that Gentlemen’s Quarterly has put a “contract” out on him. Exxon men’s rooms are neater. He is the only world leader whose orderly is required to change his straw. There are critters pulling wagons that attract fewer flies. He has been used as an emergency landing strip for locusts that strayed off course. This natural attraction for bugs has made it necessary to make arrangements for him to be buried in a casket with a screen door.

Customs Officers who have seen Arafat’s passport photo say it looks like the bottom of a birdcage trying to smile. It is apparent that any hair that grows on Arafat’s countenance considers itself in a bad neighborhood. You can hardly call what Arafat has a beard. It just looks like someone threw Propecia in his face. The stubble doesn’t look like he’s trying to grow a beard but that his face is going bald. Dermatologists have described his chin as resembling a caterpillar’s scrotum.

Bush and Powell are striving to resuscitate the infamous peace process despite the consensus that Arafat’s promises are invariably just camel shit, which has the same properties as bullshit, but takes a somewhat longer fall to the ground. (It’s said, Arafat has a special affection for camels because they laugh at his jokes.)

It had been suggested that Bush declared the attack on American installations abroad, not acts of war, but crimes, so that Arafat could be charged only with Misdemeanor Terrorism. Meanwhile, Arafat prowls the Middle East like a pit bulldog with a law degree, trying to talk other dogs into biting each other.

Arafat may be an open book to the State Department but he would have had Darwin completely stumped. It’s supposed he descended from a species that just couldn’t make a go of it in the Galapagos Islands. Early on in the process of Evolution, his antecedents seem to have thrown in the towel – presumably from an upper branch of a tree. Arafat’s intellectual acuity can best be judged when one considers him in context of the well-known team of Larry, Moe and Yasser.

One of his colleagues summed up Arafat this way. “It you’re expecting a nice guy, you’re going to be disappointed. But if you’re expecting to meet a gross, bloodthirsty, terrorist, he’s not a bad guy.”

The West Bank is a spiritual wasteland, a moral tundra and an off-ramp on the Freeway to Civilization. It is a desolation-in-progress, and the sphincter through which Arabs vacate the waste products of their age-old hatreds. The creation of yet another Palestine could only be justified by the realization that Hell has become overcrowded. Palestine will be in the core (it has no heart) of Hate America country, the coalition that is a self-deception only the Bush Administration can stomach. Irrespective of which party is in power, the State Department will treat the West Bank as some kind of petting zoo – an Aberdeen proving ground for the aspiring diplomatic “gophers” to exercise their intuitive duplicity.

The worst thing about the Palestinian terrorists is that when they infiltrate into Israel they bring mosquitoes with them. The West Bank is Disneyland for entomologists; it is the Capistrano to which each year the horse flies return.

Arafat had promised to give the Palestinians boons and betterments they’ve never had. Apparently, that did not include sidewalks. (Palestinian technology peaked with the idea of putting a handle on a shovel.) The West Bank looks as though it is completely populated by “street people” after someone pulled San Francisco out from under them. It has been suggested that Bush forget about distributing food to Palestinians as he did in Afghanistan, but just airdrop soap (Operation Palmolive.) In many Middle East countries the people’s bodies reject soap - and vice versa. The silver lining is a Palestinian suicide bomber who blows himself to smithereens does not help the peace process along, but makes an inestimable contribution to his own personal hygiene.

[Note: In the West Bank suicide has become a way of life. Palestinian obstetricians announce a new birth by saying, “Congratulations, it's a martyr!” In kindergarten, children are taught to infiltrate Israel and "faw down and go boom." The consolation is these suicides keep the kiddy birthday parties down to a manageable number.]

The idea in establishing a state of Palestine is just another exercise in George W. Bush’s vanity requiring him to make mountains out of moral mud piles. Like all covert liberals, Bush’s idea of “the winning hearts and minds” is to provide modern conveniences to the undeserving. He wants to make this sand pit into the Domain of the Displaced, an exercise yard for nomads in which they can wander without leaving home. In trying to establish the nation of Palestine, Bush has demonstrated his obliviousness to the fact that there already is a Palestine. It’s called Lebanon. Arafat and his rabble left Lebanon after the Lebanese convinced them there were no more windows in Beirut left for them to smash. (Palestinians are famous for taking to the streets, shooting their guns into the sky - and missing. In consideration of their errant marksmanship, most of them have to take target practice before they can go on their honeymoons.)

The West Bank is a wallow for the ever-hostile Hezbollah. It was not known what the word Hezbollah meant until a Palestinian woman was overheard telling her husband, “The baby just went hezbollah in his diapers.” Yet, Bush sees the West Bank as “compassion country”, ideal soil to cultivate his naïve humanitarianism intended to endear him to all the Fundamentalist barbarians of Islam and terrorists-at-large.

As George W. Bush did with Clinton, so he is doing with Arafat. It is a Bush leisure pursuit to collect villains and restore their veneer. In fact, it seems every President in recent history has made a forever project of sanitizing the image of Chairman Arafat. At any event, here is another American President trying to make acceptable what cannot be made presentable. (After the collapse of the Camp David peace talks Bill Clinton accused Arafat of making him look bad. That is an irony that defies comment.)

Arafat’s rabble have already been ejected from Jordan and evicted from Lebanon. Getting repeatedly bounced out of any place that calls itself The Holy Land doesn’t say much for a Palestinian’s chance of going to Moslem Heaven, but terrorists believe they will get there and, as they have been promised, there are seventy virgins waiting for each of them. (Of course, these ladies have already died and gone to Heaven, but, I suppose, a dead virgin is better than no virgin at all.)

It is time to reevaluate this inexplicable and contemptible relationship that has endured over the last few decades between the United States and Yasser Arafat, an affinity that devolves on the ability of American administrations to deceive themselves about the base nature of Yasser Arafat, an itinerant despot and his merry band of unwashed migratory assassins.

Now that Colin Powell is Secretary of State, everyone in that Department has selectively forgotten the Gulf War spectacle of Saddam Hussein and Yasser Arafat swapping spit and groping each other affectionately under the conference table. To this day they remain on an open-mouth kissing basis. For Powell, Yasser Arafat is Saddam Hussein Part 2. By allowing Saddam to “skate” Powell brought home to America the agony of victory and the joy of defeat.

Colin Powell considers himself The Great Conciliator, the Henry Kissinger of Jamaica, and the darling of interim governments everywhere. Should it prove expedient, he is likely to give Czechoslovakia back to the Third Reich. To be sure, this is a man Arafat knows he can do business with, although Arafat has less in common with Powell than with his predecessor, Madeleine Albright - particularly after he and Madame Albright discovered they wore the same size corset.

LOL ... ROFLOL ... it would be even funnier if it weren't so true ...

I took a class at Georgetown University about 20 years ago given by Edward Luttvak, a military strategist. It remains my favorite class of all time due to his constant, unrestrained voicing of his opinion on foreign and military matters. The first day he said, only half joking, that the best thing that could happen to American foreign policy would be for someone to dig a tunnel from the Pentagon to the State Department, to fill the hole with high explosives, seal the tunnel and then set it off. After the laughter died down, he explained how anti-American the DOS (an acronym that he apparently believed meant Department of SH--) was, much as Norm has done here. I happen to agree with Luttvak - we'd be WAY better off without the DOS, or at least without them having any input into foreign policy.

By the way, for you federal security types lurking out there, I do not advocate that any person perform any act of violence against any federal employee or any federal property. I merely think it humorous that many of your employers (including me) hold some of your fellow public servants in such utter contempt.

I too believe this is one of the funniest articles I have ever read ....

.” In his dress uniform Arafat frequently is mistaken for the doorman at the La Brea Tar Pits. *** At airports, while other passengers are required to pass through a metal detector, Arafat is compelled to walk through a chute containing cattle dip *** Arafat appears to be in the late stages of a condition doctors (and tailors) call terminal scruffiness. He is an unkempt man who has never known the meaning of the word “kempt.” *** Exxon men’s rooms are neater. He is the only world leader whose orderly is required to change his straw. There are critters pulling wagons that attract fewer flies.

Machinegun one liners like Hennie Youngman ....

That one's by our own *firehat*.... Norm Liebman. It's a pretty nasty take on Yassir and heartfelt. Norm must be getting on in years and it prolly kills him to see this rat Arafat giving Israel so much trouble. Norm used to post here. Did you see his Hollywood credentials?>

Norman Liebmann is a former television writer [Johnny Carson; Dean Martin; wrote and produced "Chico and the Man" and created the characters for "The Munsters" (who are all named after his relatives)] and a brilliantly insightful columnist/humorist and contributor to BSNN. Please visit his Web site, Firehat, a treasure trove of Clinton- and media-bashing. E-mail: firehat@gte.net

I did not know that. Thanks. Wonder why he left us? Censorship?

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Not at all.....Prolly was looking for a different (wider?) outlets for his essays. He always posted witty essays for freepers to comment on.

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