John Montgomery Presents This Week's	December 2, 2000	Creep Logo by Alan Fraser
	Augusto Pinochet
	The Caravan of Death on Firestone Tires

You say you're sick to death of this endless US presidential election nightmare? Your sphincter is filled to the brim with the ass-rumbling, cheek-flapping, pants-ripping, Bronx-cheering, loaf-launching flatulence turned out every day by that perpetual parade of pundits and politicians? You'd like to round up these two pathetic pretenders to the throne, lash them to Elian's inner tube raft and launch them out to sea at high tide? Hey, crybabies, count your blessings. It could be worse. A lot worse.

OJ Simpson killed two people and we called him a devious scumbag. The Unabomber killed three people and we called him a psychotic, obsessive sociopath. Timothy McVeigh killed 168 people and we called him a sadistic, hate-filled monster. What words do you use for someone responsible for the kidnapping, torture and deaths of 3,197 people? Evil. Wicked. Satanic. The Prince of Darkness, the Lord of the Underworld, and a Man of Wealth and Taste. Meet Lucifer incarnate, Augusto Pinochet.

As the head of state and military in Chile from 1973 to 1990, Augusto made his political and ideological opponents, all 3,197 of them, disappear. They were systematically yanked from their homes and prison cells, tortured and then executed by his military junta in a campaign known as the Caravan of Death. His long arm of horror even extended to Washington where he had one of his prominent critics, Orlando Letelier, blown up in a 1976 car bombing. When Augusto gave up power in 1990, he granted himself amnesty and became a Senator For Life. He must have felt pretty secure from prosecution as he walked the Chilean streets he'd terrorized for so long and went globe trotting with diplomatic immunity.

Augusto began running into his own Caravan of Reality in October of 1998 when he went to London for back surgery. After the operation, he was greeted with a novel form of British hospitality: "Good morning, General, you're under arrest for genocide, torture and terrorism and we're sending you to Spain to stand trial! Would you like some tea?" Thus began a 16-month legal battle which finally ended this past March when Augusto was shipped back home to Chile for health reasons. At that point, he surely expected to live out his remaining days basking in the adoration of his countrymen.

Sorry, Augusto. More reality. This week, he was indicted in connection with 55 deaths and 19 prisoner disappearances during the Caravan. Judge Juan Guzman ordered Augusto into house arrest where he will stay until a trial, with no access to Geritol or Depends. Whether he makes it to trial is an open question. Augusto is now 85 years old, has diabetes, wears a pacemaker and has had three strokes in the last two years. That makes him only slightly more healthy than Dick Cheney.

In a rare statement, Augusto muttered some rambling, buck-passing comments: "As a former president of the republic, I accept all the facts that they say the army and the armed forces did." In other words, Hey, I was just minding my own business. It was those power-mongering crackpots in the military who caused all the trouble. Only my political enemies would make such scurrilous, unfounded charges. I did not trade arms for hostages. I was out of the loop. It was a youthful indiscretion. I did not have sex with that woman. I was not AWOL from the National Guard. I am not trying to steal this election.

Aren't you glad your leaders don't act that way?