So the president, operating under cover of a multiday ruse that included faux preparations for a Rose Garden ceremony, snuck into Iraq for a photo-op today. All hail the conquering hero, whose plane employed a screamingly steep, spiraling descent so the leader of the cfree world didn't get blown out of the air. Given the amount of secrecy, misdirection, and security needed for Bush's fly-by, I can't imagine that this will do much save highlight the supreme chaos and instability of the nation. Ah well. If they'd really wanted to make a powerful gesture to the Iraqis), they could have built the soccer-mad nation the infrastructure -- even were it only temporary -- to watch the World Cup. But the lack of TVs, generators, fuel, or free movement has deprived Iraqis of their god-given right to enjoy men in brightly-colored garb kicking a small ball. Bush's five hour appearance, I fear, will prove a sorry substitute.
Also, go Brazil. Because if they don't win, my father, and all my relatives in Rio, will be very upset. And my awesome soccer heritage will become a depressant, rather than a coup.
