Thursday, April 19, 2007


Whenever Dubya takes a trip, from here to there or over there, to thereabouts to spout the same old sauerkraut, to defend Iraq or scratch the back of some old party hack, he wastes the fuel to try to fool or trick the body politic.

He passes gas while riding first class on the short trip by car or chopper to a waiting few who wave and cheer while he sneers from ear ear to ear. To boo's taboo. I thought you knew.

Like every president, past and present, and probably future, too, he's a phony, full of baloney hooked on ceremony. He waves to crowds who are not there or are there to stare but do not care and despise his lies and attempts to disguise his intent to appear presidential when he has the mental capacity of a flea.

In his privates moments of regret he asks himself:

"Why did I get caught in this net of intrigue? Maybe it's true what they say, I'm out of my league and belong on a has-been team of losers where I'd star just by being who I are---or is it who I am? Oh yeah, it's who I is. I is the son of a Bush and he was a failyour just like me.

"I've bin a fool since grammy school where I flunked historee, So it ain't no misstaree what histoorians will think o' me. I learnt the alfybet up to C, the grade I got in jografee. Rithmatick I learnt reel kwick. Recountin' made me what I is today. Prissidint of the YOUASSA."


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