Breslin has such an aggrieved sanity, and he has these fuckers' number.
On the eave of the invasion he wrote a piece called "Blood Remains on the Hands," which I've often thought of since. If there's a history written a hundred years from now, I hope it's remembered, and read every year on the war's anniversary.
...
Blood from a bombed baby in Baghdad goes over the wide choking sands and it crosses mountains and then great land masses and then suddenly, over a channel, it is in Westminster, in London, and people look at the sidewalk and wonder where these large blood spots came from, and the officer on duty in front of 10 Downing Street looks at the door handle and worries, how did this get here without me seeing this and having it cleaned? He has a servant rush to the door with cloth and polish and he wipes the blood and polishes the door handles and then walks off and the guard happens to glance at the door handle and the blood is back, smeared bright new red over the polished handle.
The baby's blood is off to rush over the ocean, a strange red cloud poised to rain and it floats over the green of the Washington parks and goes down a sloping street to the State Department, where as a man opens a car door for Colin Powell he suddenly notices blood on the door handle and he quickly unfurls a handkerchief and wipes the handle and Powell gets in and the car goes off and the man who held the door is left in the driveway and he sees the red that is still on Powell's door handle.
When he leaves the car, Powell does not notice the door handle as he touches it himself. The blood red cloud goes over the river to the Pentagon and it suddenly pours on the car that takes Rumsfeld to an appearance, and this time the blood is left on the door handles of both sides. A sergeant wipes. The blood is there when Rumsfeld gets home.
...
At Camp David, Bush notices blood on his right hand and he goes to the bathroom to wash it off and he holds his hands under the water and rubs them with a bar of soap and then puts them under the water and he takes them out and holds them out to dry with a towel. He glances at his hands and sees the blood of the dead baby is bright on his fingers. He mutters and washes the hands again.
He will do it again. Again this year and then next year and through all the years because the blood remains forever on the hands. http://www.commondreams.org/views03/0331-11.htm