Goodbye

Ahmad’s Queen

Ludicrously busy these last few days (we'll, OK, months, but past several weeks h/b fierce), but when I see a story like this…

November 9, 2005
Times and Reporter Reach Agreement on Her Departure
By KATHARINE Q. SEELYE
The New York Times and Judith Miller, a veteran reporter for the paper, reached an agreement today that ends her 28-year career at the newspaper and caps more than two weeks of negotiations.

Ms. Miller went to jail this summer rather than reveal a confidential source in the C.I.A. leak case. But her release from jail 85 days later after she agreed to testify before a grand jury and persistent questions about her actions roiled long-simmering concerns about her in the newsroom and led to her departure.

In a memo sent The Times staff at 3:30 p.m. today, Bill Keller, the executive editor, wrote, "In her 28 years at The Times, Judy participated in some great prize winning journalism."

In a statement, Arthur Sulzberger Jr., publisher of The Times, said: "We are grateful to Judy for her significant personal sacrifice to defend an important journalistic principle," adding, "I respect her decision to retire from The Times and wish her well."
Ms. Miller could not be reached for comment.
…

..the toes just starts a’tappin’

And then this happens.

(Music by Elton John, Lyrics by Bernie Taupin, Abused for tawdry entertainment by driftglass)

1...2...3…

Goodbye Ahmad’s Queen
Though you never knew anything at all
You had the nerve to pimp a war
And the innocent took the fall

They Scooted out of PNAC
And they whispered into your brain
Rode you like a Tread-Miller
Rode your country right down the drain.

And it seems to me you lived your life
Like aspens turning in the wind
Never knowing truth from lies
Or whose camp you’re in.

And I never want to know you
Or forgive you what you did;
Just another White House See ‘N Spell
Your legend up for bid.

Loneliness was tough
So, was it Scooter’s flute you played?
While the Times made you a superstar;
Dubya's Pied Piping scullery maid.

And now that you’re been fried
I pray the press keeps on your ass
All the papers will say you were a whore.
Mata Hari without the class.

And it seems to me you lived your life
Like aspens turning in the wind
Never knowing truth from lies
Or whose camp you’re in.

And I never want to know you
Or forgive you what you did;
Just another White House See ‘N Spell
Your legend up for bid.

Goodbye Ahmad’s Queen
You really never knew anything at all

Goodbye Ahmad’s Queen
From the young man in Baghdad tonight
Who lives war as something tangible
Dropped on him by Scooter’s Little Ho.

And it seems to me you lived your life
Like aspens turning in the wind
Never knowing truth from lies
Or whose camp you’re in.

And I never want to know you
Or forgive you what you did
Just another White House See ‘N Spell
Your legend up for bid.

Goodbye Ahmad’s Queen

Goodbye Ahmad’s Queen

Goodbye