Monday, August 08, 2005

Happy 7th Day of Vacation, George

I know, you missed me updating you over the weekend, but George, you see, being ordinary folk instead of royalty, makes the weekends ever so much more precious to me since I can't get 5 weeks off for vacation like you can. Well, I could, but you see, ordinary folks like me, when we take 5 weeks off, it's usually cause we lost our jobs.

During this time, our 5 weeks off isn't restful at all. We fret about where our money is coming from, we worry about the roof over our heads being taken away; trust me, it's not fun. But you never had to worry about that at all, didn't you. Every time you ran a company to the ground, you always had one of Daddy's pals help you out, huh?

Anyway, here's the scuttlebutt over the weekend. Outside your ranch, there's a woman named Cindy Sheehan. You might remember her. You met her because she lost her son Casey in Iraq. But then, you might not remember her; after all, you didn't remember the name of her son when you did meet with her. What's she doing out there? Well, George, she would like you to answer right to her face why her son died. You can do that, can't you? You can take a moment out from brush clearing to go answer her questions... oh wait, I forgot. 10,000 brown lives won't budge you, 20+ Ohioan's lives won't budge you, why would 1 Californian life? Oh ignore the cameras, you always did anyway.

Added at 1:49 pm - Hey, George? Cindy Sheehan says that one of your lackeys, erm, political associates called her to say that if she's not gone from the front of your ranch by Thursday, she would be arrested for *get this* being a threat to national security. Can you believe the nerve of these imposters?

Of course, we know that you, big guy, won't ever let someone like Cindy Sheehan get arrested just for this little thing that's protected in our constitution, this thing called "Freedom of Speech?" I mean, it's not like you would let anyone get kicked out of events you hold.

But see, here's the thing. All you have to do is walk outside with your truckloads of secret servicemen, and talk to this woman. Tell her why we're in Iraq. Tell her there is really a good reason why her son died. Oh, I don't suggest that you throw her the cock'n'bull story about spreading democracy. I think she's a tad too well-read (yes, she read more than "My Pet Goat") to swallow that bile. Be sincere. And she'll leave your doorstep. No need to spend MILLIONS OF DOLLARS CALLING IN TROOPS TO HAUL THIS BEREAVED MOTHER AWAY.

But, you know, George, there IS this part of me that does hope that you're that assinine, that you're that insulated, that you will pull this boneheaded move. See, we'd love to show the world what we've been seeing in you.

Filed under Politics & B.S.



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