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New at Hotel Gitmo: Mini-Bars, Vicious Dogs

An entry on the Move America Forward blog sets the record straight:


When you hear the words Guantanamo Bay, the words Abu Ghraib seem to echo back.

But I was in Guantanamo for three days last week, and I saw something very different. I concluded that, at Gitmo, we extract information from prisoners not by torture but by developing rapport with them. It involves amenities. Full rolls of toilet paper. Fruit baskets. A field trip barbecue. I talked to prisoners, visited cell blocks, surveyed their medical care, interviewed the base commander and chief interrogator on my show, and allowed callers to probe them with questions. My research extended to the officers who escorted me to breakfast and lunch - even to times when all parties were well lubricated at the Tiki Bar.

Maybe it's just because there's something about having the words "fruit basket," "probe" and "lubricated" so close together, but we understand now: When the Army said it wanted Abu Ghraib "Gitmoized," they clearly meant redecorated. A little mix-up there, but so understandable: Who hasn't had a "field trip barbecue" suddenly become "forced masturbation"? Just be careful to keep the spicier sauces out of reach.

Good News from Guantanamo [Move America Forward - The Daily File]

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It's the night before the two-night Democratic primary debate extravaganza, and we're already tired. Turns out having 20 candidates spread across two nights when only six or eight of them matter is not the must-see TV we all thought it was going to be! But that's not to dissuade you from getting excited! We're excited! We're so excited! We're so ...

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SCARED!

In case you need a reminder, here is how it's going to go down:

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Lately he's been blowing smoke from another orifice.

After a cursory examination of the TWELVE filings in the case against California Congressman Duncan Hunter just in the past 24 hours, we can confidently declare that that guy is a fucking idiot. The prosecutors have him by every last one of his short and curlies -- which is what happens when you use your campaign credit card to pay for hundreds of thousands of dollars of ski trips, video games, tuition, and plane tickets for the family rabbit.

A rational human being would have pleaded down a year ago and given up his congressional seat, since he could cash out and make a lot more money as a lobbyist anyway. But not Duncan Hunter! He made the federal government chase him down and document every last carton of cigarettes, round of tequila, and Uber ride of shame home from his many girlfriends' houses in a 60-count indictment filed last August. And still this dumb sumbitch refused to admit he was caught, even after his lovely wife (and co-conspirator) Margaret Hunter flipped on him this month -- which is what happens when you use your campaign credit card to carry on multiple affairs and you piss off the US Attorneys enough that they put every 7 a.m. Uber ride in your indictment.

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