the corner office

Every day I wake up and promise myself I'll lay off the political stuff, but then I read the news and I just can't help myself.

Today, Pat Robertson says that Dubya didn't believe that there'd be casualties in Iraq. "Verily, we shall smite them with our righteousness and the shrapnel from their roadside IEDs will fall as impotent as a gentle summer rain upon our unarmoured Humvees." Or something.

I'm not sure why Bush, devout man of the Lord that he is, smiled upon by heaven and a chorus of angels and adored by the faithful everywhere, chose to ignore the advice of a good Christian fellow like Robertson. Especially because Robertson says he's hearing it straight from the top:

"I mean, the Lord told me it was going to be A, a disaster, and B, messy," Robertson said. "I warned him about casualties."

I still don't get why it is that when people like Pat Robertson hear voices they get syndicated TV slots, but the rest of us get padded cells.

I have a nearly-empty tin of condensed milk on my desk. I can hear it telling me that A, after forgetting to put it in the fridge last night I should throw it out and B, I should get another tin from the pantry.

The Lord works in mysterious ways.