Okay, tadpoles, time to strike up the March of the Frogs! (That would be the under-rated amphibian passage in Beethoven’s Pastoral.) I suspect I’m not the only one, in my Rove reveries, to look up the origins of that exquisite expression: “to frog-march.” Now my friend Jesse Sheidlower — North American editor of the OED, and The Guy Who Knows Shit About Slang — is liable to spank me for this, but as far as I can discern the “frog” bit comes from the fact that the marchee was originally held upside down, giving him a frog-like appearance. Also (and this has no linguistic significance) it was common for the police, while frog-marching a perp, to beat a tattoo on his butt. When Karl Rove is frog-marched, as per the wishes of Wilson, do we dare hope that he will be held upside down, while a drum solo is paddled with Keith-Moon-like abandon upon his oft-kissed rump?
He deserves no less.
“What’s that, Karl? Got a frog in your throat?”
“Yes, but last night it was a prince…”
Oh, it’s a glorious image to be sure. Even a modern frog march would be a treat. In fact, I don’t care if they pin his arms — it might be nice to see him holding up his jacket, in an effort (finally!) to get that loathsome puffy face out of the media.
There is still much to discover; in the next dozen days all will be revealed. Every question answered. How much did Rove cover up, and with whom did he conspire? What did Cheney contribute (and will Halliburton be able to somehow capitalize on this?) How much did the president know? How much did Ashcroft know before recusing himself? Should Rove be held upside down? What precise rhythm should be paddled upon his butt?
Meanwhile, I’m going to curl up with my translation of Aristophanes’ The Frogs. (Favorite line: “O, dear! O, dear! Now I declare, I’ve got a bump upon my rump.”) Then I intend to cook up a mess o’ frog’s legs. After all, I live in the state of Guanajuato (“Hill of Frogs”).
And I quote from the (fabulously obscure) Odis Bird:
Froggy went a courtin’ and he did ride
And took miss Mousey by his side
Can you tell I’m in good mood?
If this struck you as a petty, gratuitious smear, feel free to visit Dysblog for more of the same, gratis. Gracias.