Saturday, September 24, 2005

Bush's Journal

Exlusive to Burned Out Paranoid Democrat. Bush's Journal:

Bush’s Journal


Do I have bad breath? Something between my teeth? I mean, I’m the same me. The same President. But people aren’t kissing my ass the way they used to. Maybe I should use a bullhorn whenever I talk. People seem to like that. I gave a policy speech the other day, (That’s all I’m doing nowadays – I miss my naps) and I was whipping out those talking points Ken Mehlman gave me. I was forceful, you know. Scaring the bejesus out of everyone, including myself. Then I said how Al Qaeda was going to go after Spain and all the dominos were going to fall. How great was that? That was a total improv! And did I get a good reaction? No! I got zip! Nada! And now I hear those snotty Republican women and lazy NASCAR dads don’t like me anymore. Well, I don't like them! How do you like that? And those crazy white evangelicals can go straight to hell, too. I’m the President for 3 more years. So everyone can kiss my big fat mandate. I can do anything I want. I can nominate my dorm mom Harriet Miers to the Supreme Court. And if that doesn’t fly, I might just nominate Barney. Rove told me all about his hero, Caligula. How he made his horse Incitatus, a Roman senator. (I always thought the Senate was filled with horses asses. HA! ) So why couldn’t I make Barney a Supreme Court Justice? He’d look cute in those robes. And he’d vote anyway I wanted him to. Shit, Barney’d overturn Roe V. Wade for a Snausage. While I'm thinking about it, maybe I should crucify a few pollsters right out there on Pennsylvania Avenue. That'd stop traffic. Jumpstart some major league ass kissing, too. Get the press to stop interrupting me with their stupid, boring questions! Like that asshole, Matt Lauer. He messed up my Habitat for Humanity photo op with all his whining about death and suffering and negative crap like that! I would love to feed a few liberals to the lions while I’m at it. That’d show ‘em some swagger. I wonder how long it would take me to burn D.C. down to the ground? Just a thought...


What in sweet Hell is going on around here? It must be because I lost my
swagger. Kinda like Samson losing his hair. Everything¹s going right into
the crapper. I¹m being stalked by killer hurricanes. The press is heckling
me. And now, Tommy Boy Delay¹s been indicted. He is one greasy cowboy, that
one. Who¹s next? Frist? Ney? I sure wish Cheney was here. Since his
knee surgery he said I can¹t sit on his lap anymore. A lot of people think
he¹s cold and ruthless. But I feel safe with the Dickman. I'm going to
miss the way he used to stroke my head and tell me what to say. He always
knows what to say. Here's a shocker: I saw myself on TV yesterday. Laura
says I'm startin¹ to look like my old man. Like, I don¹t know what¹s going
on. Scary.

The Washington Post reported that Laura says I gotta change my cowboy image. The swagger thing ain’t workin’ for her anymore. How do they find out this shit?!! There was a time when she loved the swagger. She used to beg me to slap on those chaps and walk on the balls of my feet like The Duke. I wish to hell I could get my approval poll up (If you know what I mean). Jeb offered to lend me his mystical warrior Chang. I told him to ixnay on the angchay. Makes him sound like a fairy. No way he’s ever going to be President now. I can just hear the press. “Hey Jeb, you gonna make Chang your Vice President?” He’s toast.

I hate that David Gregory. Man, does he have a big head. Like one of those bobble-head dolls.
There I am givin’ the press a little briefin’ about Rita, and he yells a question at me (hate that) askin’ if I was going to get in the way over there in Texas. Well I whipped around and told him in no uncertain terms that I wasn’t going to get in the way…I know what I’m doin’. I’m going down there to make sure that everything’s going to be alright. Then the Pillsbury Doughboy tells me I’m going to stay in Colorado after all. Says there’s too much going on in Texas and I might be an obstacle. So, guess I gotta stay here and look at a bunch of big maps and listen to a bunch of boring generals yammer about troop positions and rain and shit. Wish Barney and I were fishin’. I catch ‘em and he bites their heads off. Good times.

I feel irritable today. I saw all those media reports about Kate Moss doin’ coke.
Was she stupid or what? At least she’s taking a little of the heat offa me. Thanks Katy!
I can’t remember the last time I had a little nose candy. I miss the drip. And the choppin’. I was a good little chopper. I wonder if Kate ever laid out a line between the breasts of some woman? Nothing brings out the swagger more in a man than a little tootsky. If I were sure that the National Enquirer wouldn’t get their mitts on it, I would write Katy a letter and tell her not to worry. And day now, somebody else is going to screw up and the media is going to be all over like white on rice. Delay’s bound to be indicted. Or Frist. (Blind trust my ass!) And then she can go back to her real job of being a skinny-ass model. Maybe I should have the Pillsbury Doughboy advise her on how to suppress police reports.

Laura said I should put my feelings down on paper since I’ve been experiencing a lot of termoil (?) over this Katrina thing.
Man, I hate rain. When I was a kid, and it rained, mother would make all us kids stay inside cause we tracked in too much mud over the marble floor. Then she’d give us a big helping of wup-ass. I get antsy stayin’ inside too long. I get the epizooties. I wanna be out clearing brush, ridin’ my bike, raising money for the GOP. Laura likes to sip tea in front of the fire and read those damn romance novels when it’s rainin’. She’s a cuddler that girl. I hate to cuddle. Not cuddly. I’m a man of action. That’s why I was out there clearin’ brush, ridin’ my bike, strummin’ that damn guitar…the media says I blew it. Wasn’t paying attention. I can’t be everywhere at once, you know. I’m not God.
I thought my guys had me covered. I’m the CEO President. CEOs don’t do everything. They don’t run the company and answer the phone and send out faxes. My guys are supposed to watch my back. And they let me down. C’mon people! I don’t have time to sit in front of the TV all day and watch weather reports. Now, the Media says I don’t like black people. They don’t know how I feel. Truth is, I don’t mind black people. I like that Wayne Brady. He is one talented Mother. I used to watch him all the time on that show “Who’s line is it anyway?” How does he make up those songs outta his head? Now I never know when it’s on anymore. Doesn’t matter anyway… the Pillsbury Doughboy says I got to watch the Weather Channel more often. Iand guess what? Now there’s another Hurricane whippin’ up. They’re callin’ it Rita. They should call it Maureen. I hate that Maureen Dowd. Dowdy. That’s my new nickname for her. Gotta go. Barney’s gotta whiz.

posted by Boni.