No Satisfaction

by digby

Pantload is “getting increasingly bugged” by Jill Carroll:

And maybe JPod’s right about Stockholm syndrome. And maybe the media’s selectively choosing what to show of her statements. But it would be nice to hear her say something remotely critical of her captors, particularly about the fact that they murdered her translator in cold blood. I’m very glad she’s alive, but I’m getting a very bad vibe. More, no doubt, to come.

He reminds of one of those guys who says a rape victim didn’t act traumatized enough for him, so she’s probably lying.

Pantload is not just an ordinary GOP dimwit; he apparently can’t even read. She made the tape right after she had been released to the Iraqi Islamic Party offices and before she was in the hands of her friends and colleagues:

Carroll’s captors dropped her off in a Baghdad neighborhood, outside an office of the Iraqi Islamic Party. The politicians inside gave her juice, candy, water and tissues.

Composed, Carroll negotiated her way through the first of many politically laden conversations she would have Thursday, trying to stick to what she wanted and didn’t want to say.

The party officials asked her to write out and sign a statement saying she had not been harmed in her brief time at their offices. They had her record a question-and-answer session on camera that they said was for their records. It showed up on television shortly afterward.

Jill Carroll has more testosterone in her little finger than all these bedwetters put together. I’m sorry that she has not given the 101st one-handed keyboarders the picture of blood and horror they need to get satisfaction from their safe little offices, but I think it’s highly unlikely these bedwetters would have handled themselves with such fortitude in those circumstances. They are after all, the same brave soldiers who believe the shoe bomber is a greater threat to the nation than having thousands of ICBM’s pointed at every major American city.

Oh, and I’m glad to report that Jonah has also won today’s Jeffie.

Update: I’d love to see how Don Imus and his pathetic little crew of flaccid, middle aged gasbags would hold up under her circumstances. I have a feeling that it wouldn’t take much more than the kidnappers putting too much lemon in the bernaise sauce and Imus and these walking viagra commercials would break down and start calling themselves Tanya.

.