My name is RickB, and I'm a Plame-a-holic. When you take your first swig, you have no idea what impact it can have on your life. When you finally realize, it is already too late.
More on the flip.
Valerie Plame has almost destroyed by life. I didn't see it coming. It started out as innocent fun: a few of us would get together, tap a keg of blog, and before you knew it there were laughs and backslapping all around. We felt empowered again. A dose of Plame brightened our summer, united in our anticipation of the coming Fitzmas.
"Merry Fitzmas!" We bought the hats. We bought the T-shirts. The greeting cards and bumper stickers. It was all good clean fun.
Until one day when it wasn't.
You see, Leakgate became an obsession that I couldn't control. It started off innocent enough. One time when everyone was in the living room watching football, I snuck off to the basement to check the latest from Crooks and Liars. Soon, this wasn't doing it for me anymore. With some trepidation I furtively moved up to AmericaBlog. Wow, that was good. But soon even John and Joe could not do it for me anymore. I had been warned: those are just gateway blogs. But I didn't listen. Before I knew it, I was dabbling in the hard stuff: Firedoglake. Glenn Greenwald. Murray Waas. Soon I hit rock bottom: I would wake up in the morning and could not start my day until I had a fix of Reddhead. Her deftly built logic that all but guaranteed the fall of Karl Rove, it brought euphoria. You've all felt that, haven't you?
But it was only an illusion, a dream, a desperate want. I was flying so high, there was no place to go but down. Another week would go by, with only emptiness to show.
The worst part became the mornings after. I would wake up with a banging headache, fold open the paper only to discover Bush was still in the White House, and he was still reporting to Karl Rove. KKKarl still had his security clearance, the investigation was still "ongoing," and Scoots had delayed his trial sufficiently long to give Dubya a chance to pardon him after the mid-terms.
How many times have I swore I will never touch the stuff again. I've left a trail of destroyed relationships behind me. My loved ones just couldn't bear to watch my descent into the grip of Plamology. "Okay Rick," they would say, "a little social Plame is okay, but I think you have a problem. You're out of control."
I couldn't see it. Soon, no one would go out with me anymore. No one would return my calls. It is just me and the blogs.
My name is RickB and I am a Plame-a-holic. Anyone want to be my sponsor?