Ah, misty water-colored-revisionist-known-unknowns-memories from the snowflake king himself…and if you take away snow and add dangerously-deranged to flake you’ve got a description of the man himself.
I think Rumsfeld is just smart enough to realize his legacy — all anyone really has, in the end — is, without some significant spin, somewhere between down-the-toilet and whale-shit-at-the-bottom-of-the-ocean. So he’s trying to piece together his own before the clock winds down. Unfortunately for Rumsfeld, there’s a little thing called the internet, not to mention numerous archives demonstrating his complicity if not wholehearted and enthusiastic participation in the policy equivalent of not just stepping in a giant pile of shit, but proceeding to roll around, smear it all over, and generally insist it was the greatest thing ever — no, really!
And…you know, I don’t know what’s worse — the sheer cynicism of exploiting a horrific tragedy for ultimately the shallowest of political gains — or an equally shallow naïvete that a few painted schools plus some sham elections would reverse generations of Western all-for-oil policy cloddishness in the region. That takes a special blend of stupid and ugly…