An utter failure but I've got to get rid of it. Kent Johnson does this
sort of thing way better.
PRE-SENTENCE HEARING: PFC. LYNDDIE ENGLAND IS OFFERED A REMAKE OF
"PINK FLAMINGOS"
Private England, it is the opinion of our vocational counseling
experts at Bragg that only your pedestrian appearance--don't look at
me with that "Duh" expression, I mean you look like a frump, you dumb
bitch!--that, again, only your pedestrian appearance keeps you from
competing with Paris Hilton and Divine for the title of Most
Disgusting Person Alive.
More to the point, Private England, you are simply not pretty enough
to garner sympathy from an American public even more debased than you
are. People in New York tell jokes about West Virginia's Statehouse
burning down to the axles. Those jokes were old even before you
started pointing at Iraqi cocks, but you didn't help. You may have put
yourself in the same league with that bimbo Paris Hilton but nobody,
Private England, is going to ask you to design a line of clothing, pay
you $150 thousand dollars to appear at a party, or come up with a line
of vaginal fragrances.
You're not pretty enough to be a porn star, Lynndie England. Face
it. That is the only profession left to you, and even an extreme
makeover will fail unless you get yourself a fairy godmother named
Butch while you're in the joint.
You will figure out if you haven't already--for you will have a great
deal of time to meditate upon this--that the American public is
largely retarded and capable only of giving a good goodamn only about
American Idol, Survivor, and that wealthy concentration camp guard
Donald Trump.
You, Private, are going directly to the wolves.
Do you have a clue, ONE, why you and some of the other idiots who were
in Abu Ghraib are going to jail? Because you abused prisoners?
Please. We don't care about foreign prisoners any more than we do
about our own. It is all a ruse and you, ma'am, are the the
centerpiece, the Chief Rusette. You are taking the fall for
Karpinski, Sanchez, Rumsfeld, and that drunken moron with the Howdy
Doody strings whose orders you swore to uphold. Even unto doing a
stretch for him and whoever stood between you and the whole pack of
wolves. Yes, blah-blah-blah, you could have said no, Lynndie is a
Good German and all that bullshit, but you grew up a nice compliant
little girl who was used to following orders and you weren't about to
let out the sadist from inside yourself with official permission. You
didn't want to go to the military prison you're going to anyway.
Americans don't THINK. If we did we'd have burned Washington, DC in
March 2003.
I don't have to do this, I probably shouldn't do this, but I am taking
it upon myself to begin your career rehabilitation even before you
enter the stockade to hose the best years of your presumptive life.
I'm going to show you a movie you probably never heard of in your
wonder years down in the Oxycontin capital of America. It's called
Pink Flamingos. I'd love you to see what disgusting people really
look like when they set their minds to it. When you get out when
you're 35 or whatever it is, you'll have a career aspiration. Maybe
John Waters will even put you in a remake. I'm not sure what
character but what matter? John Waters made a flick about Diane
Linkletter jumping out of a window the day after she did it, so what's
to stop him from hiring you?
I know: Who was Diane Linkletter. Oh well. God bless the American
public school system.
Have hope, Private England. You are both a victim and a volunteer.
Think of yourself as unique.
KTW/5-4-05
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