The Pissing Contest: President "Clean" and the Empty Signifier

It's funny that anything remotely connected to this shitty mess could be described as "clean."

As blood soaked as MacBeth by this point in his ideological war of armageddon, though not nearly as likable, Bush has long since dispensed with his mandate, because it never existed: The ostensible "will of the people" he had on his side only a short 18 months ago has long since evaporated, leaving only the traces of the "historical" mandate he surely read his re-election as. MacBush, as were, is cornered, hostile, paranoid, with only his witches Cheney, Rove, and Rice as comfort. A false comfort though, through a murky cauldron:

"...Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury
Signifying nothing"(Act 5, Scene 5, lines 17-27)