Wednesday, January 31, 2007
But wow! Look at that nice, basketball player's-length arm, that big ol' hand, as he takes the oath of office from Senate Prezz and Prestidigitator and Liar-in-Chief Cheney. Bernie would barely need to bend from the waist in order to whup him upside the head. WHAPPP!
You're a better person than I am, Bernie.
Monday, January 29, 2007
Cheney: Tubby Was My Inspiration
"Some boys want to grow up to be president," Cheney told a Fox News representative. "I just wanted to be Tubby."
The resemblance is uncanny, insiders say. "Dick's relationship with Lynne parallels Tubby's with Little Lulu. Tubby always supported Little Lulu's ambitions, just as Dick hauled Lynne's batons to her twirling competitions. Tubby went on to head up major corporations, frequently gobbling up CEO benefits. Dick followed in his footsteps."
Like every young man with a mentor, Dick eventually went his own way. "I'd say that manipulating my country into war in order to drive up my company's profits is my individual contribution to the Tubby legacy," Cheney said. "I also decided to have pupils in my eyes."
Though Tubby is now compost in the heap of comic book history, he lives on in the Vice President. "I may be the second most powerful man in the world, but deep down, I'm just Tubby," he admitted, flashing that crooked smile.
Sunday, January 28, 2007
Note to Hillary: Lose the Poodle Skirt
When I was about 12, I remember reading lots of books on How To Be a Successful Teen--girl, because of course, most boys weren't buying into that junk. They weren't the pleaser gender. They were to be pleased.
Anyway, somewhere in some enlightening tome like Dear Abby Talks to Teenagers, I remember the advice that was supposed to ingratiate me to the opposite sex: on a date always talk about his interests--learn something about sports and cars, world affairs, and then ask questions. Don't talk too much about what you think; what does he think? Be a good listener! Be interested! Build his confidence!
Let the Conversation Begin!, Hillary's new getting-to-know-you tour, reminds me of Dear Abby's antiquated advice (which she revised during the course of her long career). I don't want to tell Hillary my opinions so that she can miraculously agree with them any time she's shmoozing with my demographic; I want to know what she would do to put America on decent footing with the rest of the world. I want her to stop doing her centrist bop and tell me very specifically what it would mean if she were somehow to win the White House. What is her world view? What role should our nation play in relation to the rest of the world? Is there a vision in all that hedged verbiage? Is she waiting till she hits the Oval Office to tell us what's what, or is she simply a smart person who lacks vision?
We can't afford gestures in place of substance. One thing I know for sure: without a real revelation of her positions on the issues, this First Woman President thing won't go far. And it shouldn't.
Libby's Lawyers Seek Clemency, Cite Peer Pressure from "Patently Bad Bunch"
Libby recalled his early encounters with one of the gang's chief bullies, "Mean Dickie" Cheney and his enforcer, Paul "Big Gefilte" Wolfowitz.
"It started with my lunch money. Every day that I went to school, there he was at the playground, demanding cash. I didn't get lunch for a semester." Libby's mom finally wised up when she noticed her already puny son's weight loss and arranged for a lunch ticket, kept with one of the cafeteria's pink-smocked ladies. "She was like an angel of mercy," Libby recalled. (Today, Libby's wife bears an uncanny resemblance to that cafeteria lady, and rumors persist that she conceived their children in a pink smock.)
Libby, never a large chap, finally joined the gang. "You join a gang for protection," he emphasized, "Not necessarily because you embrace its goals." Joining the gang meant being 'beat into' the gang. "Getting beat in and beat out of the gang are the only means to entry and exit," he said. Libby declined to describe the initiation rite, but compared it to an equally secretive ritual of Skull and Bones.
Libby acknowledges that he is currently in the process of being 'beat out' of the gang. "The trial is a form of 'beating out'. None of Dickie's other members are corroborating my story. They are sticking up for Karl 'King Slime' Rove."
That Rove is a higher ranking gang member goes without saying. However, gang spokesman say they are puzzled by Libby's efforts at bolting from the pack. "We told Scooter that the gang would take care of him. That's why George 'Billy Goat Balls' Bush has that presidential pardon--to take care of the gang."
Monday, January 22, 2007
Ted Haggard: Evangelicals Have the Best Sex Lives
"See what I mean?" he said to a startled Pat Robertson. "The Lord will give it to you anytime, day or night. You don't even have to pester your wife."
Haggard came into national prominence last year when a male prostitute claimed that he and Haggard had had several sexual encounters. He eventually confessed to his transgressions.
The new Haggard is, he says, "Gettin' it on with Jesus. He's the man."
He declined to specify whether he was a top or a bottom.
Sunday, January 21, 2007
Jenna Bush: First Teacher, Now Lady of Letters
Already on the blond First Twin's curriculum vitae is the title of grade school teacher, although she was a teacher's aide.
"People exaggerate their experiences all the time on their résumés," said an aide as he pulled one off the copy machine. "As her dad says about the Constitution, it's just a goddam piece of paper."
Jenna Bush, who recently sacrificed a career in education of the impoverished in order to devote more time to sunning on South American beaches, has revealed that she is pursuing a book deal. After her work with Latin American charities, such as Purses for Argentinians and Pussies for Petroleum, Ms Bush has been moved to share her experiences in story form.
She's represented by super lawyer-agent Robert Barnett, who squired her around publishing offices in the Big Apple earlier this month.
"I'm looking forward to becoming an ar-thur," said the young Bush, who majored in English at the University of Texas. "Lynne and Mary Cheney have shown me how easy it is. Besides, I want to inspire the youth of America. We can't all be as rich as Paris Hilton, but with hard work, we can be just as shallow."
Thursday, January 18, 2007
"As Commander-in-Chief he has information that the American people will never see."
Dumbya must be just tickled. It's probably the only news he's heard in the last 24 hours. Actually, he's been remarkably resistant to information funneled to him. What does he need information for? He is The Decider.
The arresting thing about the current crop of Republicans is how very little they resemble the Original Republican. Abe was witty, self deprecating, self-educated, and obsessed with making a difference.
Dubya is cloddy, egotistical, ignorant, and obsessed with seizing power for his rich and shoddy friends.
How do you like the beard? He borrowed it from Abe.
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
Teletubbies Step Up for Surge
"Tinky Winky is being included under the 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell' clause," confided a friend of the Fab Four. "Frankly, the military is spread so thin that the Commander-in-Chief can't afford to be fussy. Some of the Cub Scouts went home to find and found that their mommies wouldn't let them go. The Tubbies don't seem to have mommies, a fact that makes them better candidates for the military."
Military strategists were working on a plan that would keep the celebrity Tubbies away from units that were dominated by Skinheads, who might take offense to serving alongside the cuddly quartet. In the meantime, Dipsy was balking at surrendering his favorite black and white hat for the regulation issue camouflage helmet. "Bup-a-tum, Bup-a-tum, Bup-a-tum," he said to his commanding officer. "Sounds philosophical to me," he replied. "I see no problem here."
Military watchers immediately criticized Mr. Bush's acceptance of the Tubbies into the fighting units. "He promised them big hugs," said Waldo Fennemann, of the Children's Advocacy. "There aren't a lot of big hugs in on the front lines."
Mr. Bush replied that the interests of the Teletubbies are perfectly compatible with those of the U.S. Government. "Tinky Winky lists his interests as walking, marching, and falling over," he declared through White House Press Secretary Tony Snow. He'll have plenty of opportunity to pursue these interests, especially the last one."
Jerry Falwell, who "outed" Tinky Winky in 2005, applauded the Tubbies' enlistment. "May God's will be done, especially with the purple one," he prayed at the altar last Sunday.
The Tubbies themselves remain upbeat. "Fi-dit, fi-dit, fi-dit, fi-dit," said Po.
"See?" said Snow. "That's practically the Marine Corps slogan."
Sunday, January 14, 2007
Cheney Defends Plan, Progress in Iraq
He also said that any "sense of Congress" passed in the days ahead would not halt the president's troop escalation in Iraq, adding that he had not yet heard a "coherent" Democratic plan on Iraq. Bush, after all, is "commander in chief" and "you can't fight a war by committee."
Cheney denied the White House felt isolated or embattled, adding "I've seen embattled administrations, and this isn't one of them." Nevertheless, he would only answer questions on Sunday at the media outlet most friendly with the administration.
He boasted that even though the president on Wednesday cited "unacceptable" conditions in Iraq, "We have in fact made enormous progress."
Saturday, January 13, 2007
Georges Babbitt and Bush: Sinclair Lewis Is Alive and Well in American Letters
Thursday, January 11, 2007
Enough of the Psycho-Dramas, Mr. Bush
Today a bunch of fellow-citizens and I gathered to line a busy local route with our signs and our consciences to object to your sad little Way Forward, which you attempted to put over on the American people last night.
One of the signs said, "Honk against Surges," and honk our motorists did!
Hundreds of cars went by. Lots of honks, lots of thumbs-up, lots of waves. I counted the negatives: four birdies and two thumbs-down.
Our people, our armed forces aren't toy soliders for you to act out your pathetic little psycho-dramas.
So you don't feel that you are the man your father is. He was a fighter pilot, you were an Air National Guardman of who cut class. He was successful in business; you had to be bailed out of every business disaster by his pals till you ripped off the people in Arlington in the Texas Rangers stadium deal. Then you became our dry-drunk, Godlier-than-Dad president (a dubious distinction) who had to be bailed out of the Iraq disaster you created when you aspired once again to compete with your papa's legacy. How embarrassing it must be to have a bipartisan commission sugar-coat suggestions that you stop lying about the extent of the problem. You don't measure up. Deal with it.
Now you want 20,000 more troops to win the unwinnable war.
Let's recap: Saddam wasn't in league with Al Quaeda. Iraq may have been under his sociopathic fist, but it wasn't a place in which terrorists flourished. The reason? That country wasn't big enough for a second set of terrorists, not with the government terrorizing its own citizens. You created a false threat in Iraq so that Saddam wouldn't be around to create his own oil contracts with companies other than American ones. Then you ignored international protocols on unprovoked attacks. Once there, you refused to acknowledge the realities of the fractious nature of Islam in Iraq today, the antagonisms between Sunnis and Shiites. You don't like history. You don't like military tactics. You don't like anthropology. In fact, you don't like facts, period.
Grow up, Junior. This isn't about you. It's about 3,019 soldiers whose deaths are on your hands. It's about 47,657 injured troops whom you put in harm's way, and for what? For lies. For your nasty little testosterone-pumped ego. For the hideous little cabal gathered about you.
You are not only a failure as a president but as a person. And that hot line to God?
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
A Message from the President of the United States of America
I am here tonight to correct a very grave misunderstanding that is interferin' with our national dialogue on just how to go forward in Iraq. (Sayin' go forward is pretty Presidential, doncha think?)
For the last couple weeks I've been hearin' troop surge till my eyeballs nearly busted outa my skull. Surge, surge, surge!! Didn't happen. Didn't say it.
What I said was splurge. Troop splurge. As soon as our 22,000 additional troops that I am dispatching next week as Commander in Chief of the Armed Forces get back from Iraq, we're going to send them on one super-duper shoppin' trip. After all, we Americans aren't warriors at heart; we're shoppers. And I intend to honor that precious national value.
That's right. Just give me your sons and daughters for another year or two, and when they get back from selling the ultimate American product, FREEDOM, their Uncle Sam will take them to the mall of their choice for a shoppin' sweep they'll never forget. All they can stuff into a shoppin' cart in two hours!!
And that's not all: if your son or daughter doesn't come back from Iraq unbagged, we're going to give that shoppin' trip to the survivin' relative. It's the least we can do.
So don't get carried away by all the rumors generated by the liberal mainstream media. You can still count on me--for victory in the war on terror, and for a big boost in the retail economy when and if your loved ones come home!
Don't think surge; think splurge.
God Bless America!
Kilroy Was Here
If our country ran under the auspices of a parliamentary system, the Deluded-in-Chief would have received a no-confidence vote by now, and we'd be on our way to another government.
I revere our Constitution, but like all grand schemes, Dubya has taught me that it has its flaws. Cops don't like the search and seizure amendment, many question our pistol-packing rights, and so on... but I go nuts when I think that this moron is still the commander-in-chief of the armed forces, that he still has the constitutional power to send our troops off to his wrong-headed and unwinnable war. And that he and his ilk (great word, ilk) can stick around in positions of power for the rest of his disastrous term.
Short of the impeachment proceedings he so richly deserves, I'm afraid I'll be turning off the Voices of the Week part of NPR's Sunday news broadcast, just to be spared the callow version of Texas nasal evangelispeak that he has honed to be his own.
Lord, help me through these difficult days.
Monday, January 08, 2007
Cheney Off to Hunt Today!
He'll be duck-hunting at the luxurious Rolling Rock Club in Ligonier, PA.
What's interesting is that a visit to the club's site reveals a big ol' golf course as its central feature.
Oh well, there are probably some duckies swimming serenely in the course's water hazards, or sunning in the sand traps. I just wish I could be there to shiver in admiration as Dickie emerges from the putting green to blow the little buggers away!
Or perhaps, in the time-honored tradition of hunting retreats for the very rich, the ducks and pheasants are crated up, waiting for the arrival of the Great Men, at which time they are released to dizzily stagger around in the vicinity of their shotguns. Nothing like a challenge for a True Sportsman like my Dick! Actually, this is the Dickster's pet site for pheasants unleashed from their nets for his killing enjoyment. It's better than pitching ping pong balls at goldfish in little bowls, and easier, too! And who can eat a goldfish, anyway?
It's unseasonably warm here in the Northeast, but still wet enough to require some extra assistance in warding off winter germs, so Dick will doubtless take along enough Wild Turkey to discourage any chillblains lying in wait.
Let's hope that club management evacuates any die-hard golfers before the fun begins.
Bag 'em, Dickie! Bring one home to your lovin' Lulu!
Thursday, January 04, 2007
For Your Country's Sake, Give Generously
He is, after all, The Decider. If he wants to read my mail, I think he ought to have that opportunity. He can probably determine better than I can whether or not I'm being terrorized. All kinds of terror messages could be sailing right over my pointy little head. How the hell would I recognize them?
Come on. Once you think about it, you may decide that he ought to read your mail, too. So here's what let's do:
Bundle up all your mail: those Christmas cards, mail order catalogs, advertising circulars, Auntie Beryl's and Uncle Hollowell's holiday newsletter, opportunities for special subscription rates, appeals from non-profit organizations, invitations to investment seminars, love letters, mash notes, post cards for preferred customer sales, two-for-one pizza coupons, reminders for pet vaccinations, your Publishers Clearing House sweepstakes entries... and send them to the White House. If you have teenagers who still resort to the old-fashioned note writing in class, be sure to send those along as well. The Lord and the President only know what messages the terrorists have inserted into the river of communication that flows through our homes.
Now is the time for all good citizens to come to the aid of their country! Box up all the mail you were about to recycle, and send it to:
President George W Bush
1600 Pennsylvania Ave.
Please share this message with your friends, relatives, and neighbors. We can't start this latest front in the War On Terror soon enough.
Harriet Miers Quits White House, Wants to Spend More Time Skateboarding
"I just woke up one day and asked myself what I was doing, hanging around an admittedly cute President and trying to pretend that I respected his mind," Miers told a confidante. "Then I realized that hardly anybody liked him anymore, including me. Besides, I'm getting pretty good on this thing," she said, pointing to her skateboard. Our source indicated that Miers was increasingly vexed by Bush's nickname for her, Bird Legs.
Miers began "shredding" as a way of working off the stress of her job. She has become a local fixture at area skate parks but has longed for the longer season available in Texas.
Mr. Bush said that he is sorry to see Miers go, but wishes her a "gnarly" retirement.