Thursday, November 25, 2004

The George W. Bush Guide to Stupid Hollywood People - Top 10

The George W. Bush Guide
Stupid Hollywood People
(If you disagree with any of the following, you are to be immediately banished from America and forced to chop off your own special place, as in accordance with the George W. Bush New World Order.)
(Typos corrected by Colin's Powell)

It amazes me how many people in Hollywood hate me. I met Sean Penn once, the creator of the world-famous Chicken Penns – and he tried to bite my hand off! I shook his and he took mine and started chewing me at the wrist. Colin’s Powell rushed over and kicked Mr. Penn right in what Laura calls the “ballsey-wallseys” – ouch! I bet that hurt! It happened to me once when I first met Laura when I was drunk, I asked her a pretty un-Christian question and I woke up later in the hospital all bruised up “down there” if you know what I mean! Any way Mr. Penn got back up, took out a Penn pen and started stabbing me with it! Again and again! Right in the stomach! He kept jumping up and down like Daffy Duck screaming “Yippeedeedoo! Penn Pen Power! Yippeedeedoosey!”

All the ink was pouring everywhere. Or maybe it was my blood. I don’t know. But that would explain why I woke up in a hospital the next day and everyone was asking me how I was. I thought I had just passed out from drinking too much again!

What does this have to do with anything?

Well, it just goes to prove that Hollywood is full of real stupid and mean people who are out to get me because Michael Moore brainwashed them. So, here’s my top ten list of the top ten worst Hollywood people:

10. Tom Cruise

He has big crooked teeth, starred in the Mission Impossible movies and likes to fart a whole lot. Laura doesn’t like when I call them “farts,” she says it’s very crude, she prefers that I call them stinky-winkies or “rippers” but I’ll darned well say what I want! I’m the President! (Besides, Laura didn’t say I couldn’t type it, heh-heh.) Any way, Tom Cruise came over to the White House for dinner once, and I was talking to him and he just kept leaving stinky-winkies the whole time. He kept going “Ughhhhh” and letting them rip in a very un-Christian way. When I let stinky-winkies crawl out of my special place poo-poo hole, I make sure I do so in a very Christian manner, according to my daddy’s Book of Christian Manners. I lift one cheek, squirt and resume eating. If it’s a bit too loud and smells a lot and everyone around me sees and hears and smells it, I just blame Colin’s Powell. Actually, I blame Powell’s Colon! That gets some laughs. But Colin’s Powell doesn’t laugh. Sometimes this makes him get real mad and he runs out of the room crying like a big baby, but he’s always doing that. He also likes to dress up in women’s clothes a lot. Is there something wrong with Colin’s Powell? One time he told me I looked “absolutely snuggable.” Laura slapped him in the face and he ran out of the room crying again, but first he called her a naughty word that rhymes with “litch.”

A word of advice: If you ever have Tom Cruise over for dinner, don’t serve Asparagus or his farty-warties will go on “cruise control” if you know what I mean!

9. Cameron Diaz

This horse-mouthed fool said that I would legalize rape if I became President again. Well guess what? So far it’s been almost a whole month and I have yet to legalize more than two rapes! So take that, Ms. Diaz, and your boyfriend Mr. Nick Carter.

8. Mike Myers

He told me that he based his character of Dr. Evil on me. Me! Why me? What did I ever do to him? Except place three hits on him, cancel an episode of Saturday Night Live he was supposed to host that had blasphemous skits against my daddy, and kiss his wife one night when I got a bit tipsy-wipsy? Besides, I don’t have a bald head, so the joke’s on him! (Until I go bald, that is.)

7. Ricky Sanchez

I don’t know who this guy is. I’ve never even seen him before. In fact, I’m not even sure he exists. But I think I heard his name once and his name sounds real weird and Spanishistic, and I hate the Spanish, so I hate him too. He probably hates me, so it all works out. If he exists. I’ll have to ask Colin’s Powell to search for me.

6. Quentin Tarantino

All his movies are, are lots of blood and violence and baby-making. Once, someone touring the White House was talking about nice Christian movies to me. I told them I was a big fan of The Jungle Book, The Butter Cream Gang Strikes Again (what a great mystery!) and Jesus is Cool: The eXtreme Sports Video, Starring Ricky Sanchez as Jesus. They told me they liked those “flix” too, and told me I’d also like Summer of Sam, Pulp Fiction, Reservoir Dogs, A Clockwork Orange, Fight Club, Irreversible and Kill Bill.

My fellow Americans, I can honestly say that I have never viewed such filth in all my years. (I’d write the years out, but I forget how old I am, so it won’t work.) Taking this evil man’s recommendations, I had Mr. Blackey rent out Reservoir Dogs for me. (Or, as I now call it, Reservoir Stupid-Faces.) The front cover was pink and had a man wearing sunglasses. I thought, heck, it’s so pink and clean, it has to be a family movie, so I invited over Colin’s Powell and his children and his wife (Mrs. Blackey II), Dick and his family, and some children off of the streets. We all began to watch it together. When the first ultra-naughty-word appeared I clasped Laura’s hand tight in mind, closed my eyes and prayed to God that it would end soon. I began chanting with Laura and summoning God to lower Himself from Heaven and ban the filth from our eyes.

All I can say is that it did not end soon, God did not appear and stop it from invading our filth. Reservoir Stupid Faces has the most swearing I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen Driving Miss Daisy – which, not surprisingly, was also directed by “Mr.” Tarantino. (Dick Cheney’s Editorialistic Note: Quentin Tarantino did not direct Driving Miss Daisy. However according to the George W. Bush Law, whatever he says goes – therefore, from this day forward, Driving Miss Daisy will be added to Quentin Tarantino’s regime.)

5. John Travolta

This guy makes funny faces at me, and told me I smelled like cabbage. I don’t like him much. Also, in the movie Pulp (about pulp Orange Juice? I don’t know, I haven’t seen it), I heard he swears a whole lot and calls my daddy a mean name that rhymes with “slugga” and “mutha,” and both put together sometimes.

4. Michael Jackson/Jordan

They’re the same, aren’t they? They’re both black and evil and like children a whole lot – too much if you ask me. Did you see that awful evil movie, Space Jam? It was all about Michael Jackson trying to infiltrate little children’s panties! He used recognizable Christian cartoon characters such as Bugs Bunny and Porky Pig and Mickey Mouse as decoys, to trick the children into letting him touch their Super Special Places!

Oh, which reminds me – let’s add Samuel L. Jackson to that list, too. I think they’re all brothers, but I’m not sure so just to be careful I might as well add his name. If he’s not Michael Jordan and Jackson’s brother, then he should still be on the list because he has a bald head, and only unchristian people do that.

3. W. Axl Foley

The singer from the popular 1970s “hard pop metal” band AC/DC (which = bi-sexual). He once said I looked like an orangutang. It hurt me feelings. I hope he dies real soon. He does a voice on Grand Theft Souls as an “Innocent DJ” who “just likes to listen to music.” Yeah, right. And The Satan is just misunderstood! I bet. His evilistic song, “Sympathy of the Devil,” is evil. One time, he hugged Elton “I Am a Huge Homosexualistic Pervert” John and sang a song with him in skimpy short-shorts! Eww! Talk about gross! His voice sounds like a woman’s, he wears underwear and dances what Laura calls “seductively,” makes “humpy-humpy” motions with his hips and screams a whole lot into the microphone like a woman! He also dances around a whole lot like a darned chimpanzee/woman (they all look alike to me). Now, if only I could convince Laura to take down the naked poster of him from her bedroom wall.

2. Barney the Dinosaur

Barney is a very evil dinosaur. He pretends to be your best friend, but after you let him kiss and hug you and squeeze your butt-tocks he ignores you and calls you names. I don’t like him much, and hope he dies. I once met Barney, when I was younger. He was in an alleyway, an old man. He didn’t have a dinosaur suit back then, he was dressed as a human. He paid me five dollars to let him touch me and kept saying “Let Uncle Barney touch ‘ya kiddie.”

When I saw him on television years later, I could tell by the voice and smell that it was him! I am still waiting to receive the twenty bucks he promised me the next day to “go a little further,” and let me tell you – he didn’t go further, he went downer! Right down my pants! It was real gross, so I ran away. But I still want my twenty bucks. Heck, I could probably put it into our Nucular Warhead New World Order fund. (In which it clearly states, “…a nuclear [isn’t it spelled nucular?] warhead for every boy, a half for every girl and three for their parents.”)s

Michael Moore

He’s just plain evil! Need I say more? For one, he calls me names a lot and says things that aren’t true. Also, he pooped on my bird and chopped of its head. (Dick Cheney’s Editorialistic Note: This is unconfirmed, but Michael Moore was in Michigan at the time and could have easily taken a jet to D.C, gotten out, pooped on the President’s bird, and flown back in time for dinner.) Michael Moore tends to poop on my stuff a whole lot, once I was going to go golfing and he took a huge ol’ dump right on my golf bag kart! (Note: This is unconfirmed, but the only other person there at the time was Colin’s Powell, and he promised he’d never do it again so it couldn’t have been him.)

Well, God bless – unless your name is on this list, of course!

- George “G. Holmes Dawg” Bush
November ??, 2004 (or whatever year we're in now, I'm too lazy to look at the calender but I'm sure it's somewhere around there - time flies when you're having fun waging war like Rambo!)

Wednesday, November 24, 2004

What the Heck?

Howdy all,

I'm feeling pretty depressed. I just found out that someone is posting a bunch of silly stuff using my name! Check it out!

The Stupid Person Using My Name

I'm so madd right now, I could start a war like my hero Rambo. I could take a bunch of machine guns, run into Iran (or Iwalk or Iswim or whatever the heck it's darned called) and shoot the darned place to heck! I could blow up lots of stuff with a big darned smile spread across my big darned face, shooting innocent bystanders because they got in the way of Busho!!! Then I could tie a bandana around my head, strip out of my clothes, run around naked shooting up lots of stuff screaming "Jesus is love!" blowing everything to heckin' schmithereens.

Listen to what this imposter wrote, it makes me so darn mad:

"...There's an old saying, 'Do not pray for tasks equal to your powers; pray for powers equal to your tasks.' In four historic years, America has been given great tasks, and faced them with strength and courage. Our people have restored the vigor of this economy, and shown resolve and patience in a new kind of war. Our military has brought justice to the enemy, and honor to America. Our nation has defended itself, and served the freedom of all mankind. I'm proud to lead such an amazing country, and I'm proud to lead it forward."

Now I don't know what the darned heck he's talking about because it's pretty booring and made my head feel all confusilated and hurt my brain, but I'm sure it's really nasty and something mean about me. What kind of person says, "I'm proud to lead such an amazing country, blah blah blah" - COME ON! Like anyone really can read stuff like that without going boggly-woggly-cross-eyed.

I'm so madd right now I could start a lawsuit, but I won't, because last time that happened Laura got madd. Apparently there is no such thing as a "lawsuit" - I tried to sew one together with Laura's sewing kit, made out of law books about the law and stuff, but it didn't work out real well, especially when I put it on and ran around the White House screaming "I am the lawsuit, hear me roar." That made a lotta people laugh. How come? Oh well, I don't know but Laura thought it was real bad to do so I won't do it again.

But I will invade Iswam with machine guns like Rambo. I just saw that movie the other year, it was sooooo cool. He's like, "Yo, I can kill everyone, yo" and he's running around blowing up EVERYTHING!

I learned everything there is to know about war, democracy, and foreign countries from Rambo - when the going gets tough...just pull out a knife and a machine gun and start killing up lots of people, and shoot them to heck.

Because remember: War is bad, but it sure can be fun when you're shooting the place to heck like Mr. Rambo did.

As part of my New World Order, every human being must be forced to sit through every Rambo movie so that they can understand what I'm trying to do here. Maybe then all the people who hate me like Michael Moore and Colin's Powell and Oprah Winfrey can understand what I'm trying to do here - which is just blow a lot of stuff to heck and save the world from The Satan's Evil Foreigners.

Because after all, anyone who is not American and looks funny is probably going to be The Satan, or be in some way connected to The Evil One, so just shoot them - it's better not to take chances.

And if you don't have a weapon, just poke fun at them alot and hurt their feelings until my Official George W. Bush New World Order is taken to heart and, as Line 3 in the Third Paragraph clearly states, "...a machine gun for every boy and girl, and three for their parents."

We will be well equipped to deal with those anti-Rambos when they come rolling into town!

Hallelujah! Praise Jesus and my daddy! Now, let's go watch Rambo again (just fast-forward over the "f***" parts or throw your children in front of the television in order to save your eyes and ears from hearing and seeing the filth) and then go invade one of them there foreign countries, you know the ones...the kind with the people who have weird eyes and skin. They give me the creeps. Once, I was in a grocery store with one, and they tried to kill me so I dragon kick dropped them. (Dick Cheney's Editorialistic Note: They did not try to kill him, but the 83-year-old Iranian grandmother DID look awful mean and funny, and there's a chance that she had a weapon on her and was going to kill Mr. President Bush. But then again she had real funny eyes and funny eyed people all deserve to die.)

Stay tuned for more information on who this imposter is - once I find him, I'll send him back to The Hell where he can live with The Satan and have lots of The Steamy Gay Hot Homosexualistic Sex, which is only for The Evil People.

God Blessin'!

- Busho

Frank the Rabbit is Annoying

Howdy all,

I've got a bit of a problem. Lately I've been having strange dreams involving Al Gore, Bill Clinton, Oprah Winfrey and cottage cheese. Oh, and a really weird rabbit named Frank. My daughters (I forget their names, I think it's Jenny and something else) tell me it's from the hit movie Donnie Darko.

So tell me, America: How in heck did I get an evil image from an evil movie I haven't watched into my head?

My wife - you know her name right? good because I forget - she told me to try using some special Jesus Soap. Supposedly Super Jesus Soap washes evilistic images out of your brain. But it isn't working for me! It's all pink and I keep remembering that evilistic movie Fight Club when I use it!



See it's taking over my brain again!



I'll be back with more on this evilistic development very soon. I'm currenly writing the GEORGE W. BUSH GUIDE TO EVILISTIC HOLLYWOOD PEOPLE and that will be up soon once I do what Frank is telling me to do. Hold on, be right back, I've just gotta go light the White House on fire real quick.


- Georgey

Monday, November 15, 2004

Have You Got the Wiggles? Take My Advice and Tell Them to Go Back to Hell Where They Came From!

I like to listen to music and dance the jiggy. I admit it. But ONLY if it’s good Christian music and ONLY if I’m in the mood. Don’t be giving me none of that M&M’s music or Britney Spears. She wanted to do singing at my Republican center place, but I told her no because she plays The Satan’s music, which is evil.

Let me tell you else who likes to play The Satan’s music a lot. You’ve probably heard their names before. They’re four homosexualistic men who wear bright clothing and flaunt their bodies around alot pretending to sing “Christian” music. But I know better.

They call themselves “The Wiggles,” but they should be called “The Evils.”

Let me tell you why.

Here are the words to their song, “Fruit Salad”:


Fruit salad...Yummy, yummy. Fruit salad…Yummy, yummy. Fruit salad…Yummy, yummy. Yummy, yummy, yummy, yummy, fruit salad


Let’s make some fruit salad today, its fun to do it’s a healthy way. Take all the fruit that you want to eat, it’s gonna be a fruit salad treat. “The first step,” peel your bananas. “The second step,” toss in some grapes. “The third step,” chop up some apples, chop up some melons, and put them on your plate.


Now we’ve made it its time to eat it, it tastes so good that you just can’t beat it. Give everyone a plate and a spoon; we’ll all be eating it very soon. “The first step,” eat up the banana. “The second step,” eat up some grapes. “The third step,” eat up some apples, eat the melons, now there’s nothing on your plate.


Now we’ve had our fruit salad today, it’s time to put the scraps away. Wash the bowls and wash the spoon, let’s do it all again real soon.


Fruit salad…Yummy, yummy. Fruit salad…Yummy, yummy. Fruit salad…Yummy, yummy. Yummy, yummy, yummy, yummy, fruit salad. Fruit salad…Yummy, yummy.


Now, you might think it’s just a pleasant song about eating a bowl of fruit salad. Right? WRONG! With lyrics like “peel the banana” and “eat the banana” and “yummy yummy” and “put the scraps away” and “clean off the plate” and “lick it clean” and "beat it," it’s clear they are drawing illusions to nothing other than THE SATAN’S BABY-MAKING ACT!!!! (Commonly referred to in dirty places as “the sex.”) Most specifically, the mouth-kind of “the sex” where people do really gross stuff like Bill Clinton and Monica Leuwinksky.

I’m sure The Wiggles would like us to think that this is normal, but it is not. Sure, I’ve listened to the song and I’ll admit that I felt the sudden urge to jump up onto the top of my desk and dance the jig all night long, but then I realized it was just The Satan invading my brain through the musical instruments so I threw my shoe at my stereo and stopped the music. (Dick Cheney’s Editorialistic Note: He actually struck me with his shoe, and I fell backwards and crashed into the stereo. He said it was an accident, but he kept laughing a lot when it happened, so I think he did it on purpose.)

I wouldn't be surprised if Michael Moore, Bill Clinton and Oprah Winfrey were all The Wiggles in disguise trying to pollute our youth!

Here's a picture of them. Notice how the middle one looks alot like Bill Clinton, and the one on the right looks just like Oprah? (Or as I call her, Mrs. Real Fat Blackey?)

WARNING! DO NOT LOOK AT THIS PICTURE UNLESS YOU ARE OVER THE AGE OF 40, ARE BLIND IN BOTH EYES OR WEAR BRACES (which have special anti-devil-evil magnets that repel evilness from entering our brains)

The one on the left doesn't really look like Michael Moore that much but he could have had lots of the plastic surgery like in that way-cool movie Face/Off! (I didn't believe anything I saw in that movie, but then the director John Cusack told me it really happened. Wow!)

The Wiggles are played by four men with mental disorders who dance around alot and wear real fruity clothing. The one man, a Chinese fellow who I call Chum-Chum, wears pink sweaters all the time and smiles real big at the camera. He gives me nightmares a lot. He looks like Jackie Chan, only even scarier. And he’s real short like a midget, and he’s hairy like a monkey. That’s the reason I named him Chum-Chum.

The Wiggles are also real scary and evil because they talk like Russell Crowe. Russell Crowe doesn't like me, so anyone who sounds like him should definitely die because I auto-matically hate them.


The Wiggles give me nightmares on a regular basus and some of their songs really scare me alot. Like in the one they start dancing with an evil pirate. It appears to be a nice pirate with a bird on his shoulder -- but that's just what The Satan wants us to think. Because there are no good pirates, and no "nice" pirates for shure. Pirates are all evil Devils who go around killing and having the sex with people and killing and eating skin. They are gross!! And their teeth smell real bad. (I know because Laura used to be a pirate, and when she kissed me I threw up in her mouth. Actually I don't think she was a pirate but she used to laugh like one alot, and sometimes she would carry around a purse that looked alot like a sword, before my throw-up acid burned her mouth and she stopped laughing funny. That's why she always talks weird now!)


If you ever hear The Wiggles, (a.k.a. The Satan's Evil Homosexualistic Perverts) I suggest you immediately burn their CD. In fact, I command you to do so. If you don’t, I’ll have you killed. And that’s an order.

Have a good day! (Unless you’re one of the Wiggles.)


- George Bush

Friday, November 12, 2004

Happy Jesus Dancing - A Detailed How-To

Howdy all,

I'm sure you've heard by now of the new sensation sweeping the nation. No - not sex, drugs, violence, Michael Moore or evil music. It's called...

It's real easy to do, too.
To start, go find a local Church. If you do not have a local Church, it means you do not attend Church on Sundays. If you do not regularly attend Church on Sundays, kill yourself now. That is an order, as it means you have not been living the life of a Christian, which means you are too late to repent and must immediately die and go to hell before you can spread your evil gingivitis into other Christians.
If you are still reading this, it means you are a Christian and you go to Church. Good! Once you go to your Church, you need to give your pastor a big ol' slobbery kiss. That's the first step of Happy Jesus Dancing. Once you give the pastor a kiss, it might make him sort of happy -- like he might try to hug you alot and touch you and grab you (this happened to me when I was a young choirboy). It only means you have succeeded in making your pastor extra-extra-special-happy.
Good for you! On to Step 2.
2. Dress up in Church clothes, find your friends, tell them to do the same.
3. Go outside in public places dressed in Church clothes and start singing at the top of your lungs.
If you don't know any good songs, just use the song Colin's Powell made up for me earlier. You have my permission to print it out and pass it around to all your friends.
If people start looking at you weird, laugh, try to throw things at you or run you over with an eighteen-wheeler (it's happened twice to me, but only once to my friend Ernie -- R.I.P.), then just keep it up as it means your plan is working. Your Christian words and Happy Jesus Dancing are making people see the light.
This is the part where you really have to pick things up and show your "coolness." If available, rent a video copy of The Sound of Music and learn all the dance moves from the movie, and add in your own special twisty-twists. I made up my own move you see, I called it the George Bush Hip-Buster.
It never fails to convert non-believers into Christians, due to its awesome coolness and groovy nature.
Just point your fingers in the air, jump up and down like a rabbit and screech as loud as you can. Then once your voice starts to croak real bad and people stare at you funny, leap into the air as high as you can and twist your hips around alot.
This will make people think you are cool because (a) it's what "niggas and ho's" do and they're always cool (2) shaking your hips is hard and when you do it in the air it impresses people and (c) it makes Jesus so happy He makes everyone watching you turn into slobbering hippy followers.
You can then use these Slobbering Hippy Followers to your advantage. Still dressed in your Sunday School clothes (mine are Swedish helshlongersheimerdipschleins -- a special sort of skirt for men! Or at least that's what Mr. Blackey told me when he gave them to me), run around town with your Hippy Followers spreading the good word.
Continue this Happy Jesus Dancing by implementing new groovy moves -- jumping up and down, skipping, crawling on all fours, doing back flips, yelling in people's ears, running and chasing after cars, dancing on cars, dancing on moving cars (just be careful you don't slip like 82-year-old hippy Mr. Peabody -- or as I now call him, Mr. Deadbody LOL! -- did).
Any way, I could write loads more about Happy Jesus Dancing but I have to go take a bubble bath and play with my rubber Duckie, Mr. Yellow Duckie. He's a real good friend, and he never talks back to me! I often carry him with me when I'm Happy Jesus Dancing because a lot of the young girls think Mr. Yellow Duckie is "way cool," and they always show their approval of my behavior and dress code by spitting on me and kicking me in my butt-tocks. Mr. Blackey told me this is the way people nowadays say "I like you, you're cool" without actually speaking, but boy that sure is weird because my bottom still hurts! I wish they'd just say "You're cool" without kicking me!
Anyway, I love you all so much I'm going to go Happy Jesus Dance. You can join me if you want! I'll be downtown Washington D.C., you should be able to spot me quickly as a horde of Slobbering Happy Hippies will be following me.
God Bless!
- George W. Bush

Monday, November 08, 2004

Grand Theft!

Last night I had the misfortune of viewing a very disturbing piece of so-called "entertainment." It was named Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas but I know it by another name. Its true name: "The Devil's Grand Theft of Innocent Christian American Souls." In this game you shoot, kill, do the naughty-baby-making act and kill -- all for money! And you win points to do it! Not only that, but you play a black thug guy who has a real bad attitude all the time. I very much doubt that he is a Christian, as he was clearly intended to be. (Or should have been.) I told Mr. Blackey this, but he just shrugged and said, "Yeah, but he's a b**chin'" character. I asked Mr. Blackey what this means, but he slapped me and said "I'm calling over some of me holme dawgs to play GTA tonight, yo."

Mr. Blackey has been talking real weird like that lately. In fact even his face has changed. In fact, I don't think it was Mr. Blackey at all! That would explain why every time I called him that he kept giving me hurtful stares and slapping me around alot. I wondered why Mr. Blackey suddenly had a beard and was six inches taller.

But oh well, that doesn't matter. This character from Grand Theft Satan may be named B**chin' but I know his real name: Satan. Do not be fooled by the vocal "talents" of Axl Foley, Michael Jackson, Sean Penn and Henry Fonda, all of whom willingly participated in the recording of this game (along with my friend Sally, who I have already cut from my annual boat trip pension). This is The Devil's Game and only he is in charge of it! He is making profit -- not by money, but by collecting the souls of your children! Every second you play this game is a second that your soul gets eviller -- and every second that The Satan grows stronger! I don't care if Jesus Himself lended his voice talents to Grand Theft Souls -- it would still be an evil game, because it is made by The Satan.

So I propose we solve this moral dillemma via the George W. Bush Grand Theft Souls Riddance Guide. It commands you to enter your next door neighbor's home and search inside for a copy of The Satan's own game. Once you find it, you must burn it along with South Park and other such evil anti-American videogames and movies.

Once we reach the end of America and the last person on the edge of the America has no neighbors to search, I will personally enter the last household and search for a copy of the game. That is how committed I am to putting these evil Satan-doers out of business.

We will then march straight into Hollywood and kill the evil Axel Foley (from the evil musical band Limp Wrist, which = Gay People) and Michael Jackson (the evil black actor with a bad attitude from Pulp Fiction, which is the stupidest movie name ever because only orange juice has pulp in it -- besides, what the heck is a "fiction" anyway? Sounds like a made up word to me!).

After we have completed our task we will each design our own Lord God shrine, which we will all bow down before (in Sunday Church clothes) and pray endlessly to, saying sorry for ever buying copies of The Satan's game and assuring Jesus The Lord God that it will never happen again.

After doing this we will continue the rest of our lives in a permanent state of happy Jesus dancing (detailed instructions on the method of Happy Jesus Dancing included in next journal update).

God Bless!


- George-ee-oh (rhymes with Yu-Gi-Oh, which is also evil and should be burned as well)

Sunday, November 07, 2004

Michael Moore Bit Me. Plus: Team TRAITOR is Not a Family Film.

Howdy all,

You won't believe what happened. Either could I, at first. But indeed it did, and I've regretted it every day of my life since it happened last night.

Michael Moore bit me.

Yes, you read that right. He bit me. The fat man spread his gingivitis germs into my skin via his dulled, Michiganistic razor-sharp ugly green hairy fuzz-filled teeth. I'm seriously thinking about lopping off my hand at the wrist, as it seems to be turning a very dark purpleish color, and a large "M" (for "Michael") is forming between the pinky and middle finger.

It started out oh so innocently. Just another meeting at the White House. All was the norm -- I was minding my own business rewiring the TV so I could get the Playboy channel to come on, Dick Cheney was having a seizure and heart attack on the living room carpet (relax, it happens all the time), and Colin's Powell was running around screaming things in a worried fashion and telling us the end of the world was drawing nearer because blah blah blah. I stopped listening to him because his words just make my head hurt real bad. Plus, rewiring the TV gave me a bit of a shock. There was a huge label on the back of the TV that said CAUTION! DO NOT INSERT GREEN WIRE HERE! I thought it was a trick by Michael Moore to block my Playboy channel so I stuck the green wire in the hole and got a bit of a shock. Well actually it was more of an electrocution since my bodyguard Jeffrey claimed that I shot straight up into the air like a burning Christmas tree. Plus I think I got superpowers from it since every time I touch a piece of metal now all these sparks start shooting around. One hit Laura in her head and made her hair go on fire, I watched it for awhile and it was real funny, she just kept running around in circles screaming for help but no one helped her!

Anyway Michael Moore somehow managed to sneak into the White House. I asked Dean how it happened but he just shrugged his shoulders and said, "He told me he was a pizza delivery boy bringing you a pepperoni pizza with some pretzels." I got real mad -- so mad I slapped Dean in the face by accident and then accidentally threw him out the window. He should have known I never eat pepperoni pizza, it gives me the skiddles.

Any way Michael Moore came up to me out of the blue. I started screaming for help, hiding behind my Oval Office Oval Desk but it was too late! He came right up to me, grabbed my hand, bore his teeth and bit me! Darn it to heck, he bit me right in my hand. All of a sudden Jerry and the other bodyguards ran in but it was too late! Michael Moore let go of my hand, turned to the left and jumped through the Oval Office window.

Unfortunately for him due to his extreme weight he fell like a rock and smacked real hard against the ground. And unfortunately for him I had just had The President's Lion Den installed below the window so Roary the Tiger (darn it, they accidentally bought tigers instead of lions, but oh well) ripped him to pieces. Jerry managed to save one of his arms but then Roary got out of his pen and ran loose and really went to work on some other guys. Unlucky for them, but lucky for me because I got to watch it all and have a good laugh. It's so much better than any episode of The Satan's TV Show, or as you might know it, Babar the Elephant (Babar = Satan). It was real entertaining.

But now I'm worried about my hand. What should I do? I'm ready to cut it off (with McDonald's napkins at the ready) but Laura said it might negatively effect my reputation. How come? Some other guy chopped his hand off when it got stuck under a rock and he managed to write a book about it and become real famous on TV shows. And now he has this awesome way-cool robotic arm that he swings around. If I had a robotic arm I'd make slapping noises with it and grab at things and pretend I was a robot like Robbie and walk around all stiff waving my arms around slapping people in the face, it'd be so nifty and neat. I could also make weird Frankenstein noises, but not robot noises or else it might make Robbie jealous. :(

Team TRAITOR: Team America Exposed
(As the Filth of a Very Evil Devil and His Two Lovers Who Made it)
So I felt like catching a nifty flick at the multiplex yesterday. I decided, heck, it might be good to improve my ratings by inviting children and their families to come along with me to see the newest Christian puppet movie, called Team America. Surely it was fine because (a) it was Christian and (2) it was about puppets and (c) it was about how cool patriotic Americans are.
I expected to see a pleasant Christian family film with nice lovely puppets spreading the Good Word to our children of America, taking pride in their superior nationality (boo Arabs! Down with Australians!).
My fellow Americans, I can safely say I expected wrong and should never have invited Mrs. McDeagle's third-grade Sunday school class to join me in a peaceful screening of the film.
After hearing the first Ultimate Naughty Word I immediately reacted by firmly slapping my hands over my ears and shielding my precious eyes by reaching for a nearby third-grader and throwing him ferociously towards the screen. With a yelp of patriotic pride (he was clearly thrilled to be thrown by the President in order to so heroically save his country's leader from The Satan's filth!) he smashed his head straight through the theater screen.
I am sad to report that the electric shock was just too much, and he will never walk -- nor speak, eat or use the toilet on his own -- ever again. But he did save his President which is a good thing and I'm sure the $2 Bargain DVD of the Month coupon I'm sending his parents will compensate for their loss, as they will now be able to enjoy the splendor of Teenagers from Outer Space in the comfort of their own home without having to leave for the local multiplex! Unfortunately their disabled son will only be able to sit there helplessly and drool, but that's the price you pay for a free DVD.
I urge you all to boycott this new anti-American un-Christian filth, Team America, which shall hereby be known throughout the nation as Team Stupid Poo Poo, or Team Traitor if you find the other title a bit too confusilating.
I also urge you all to find the nearest theater and burn it to the ground so that it may never screen another reel of this awful film again. The reason it is anti-Christian is because they make fun of -- of all people! -- me in the movie. (What did I ever do to its director, Peter Parker?) The reason it is anti-American is because it makes fun of me, too. It's also just real stupid, and a waste of money.
It could also hurt your brain alot and sometimes the puppets are real scary so it's definitely not a good thing. One of the puppets still gives me nightmares, I've tried everything -- sleeping pills, intoxication, torture -- but I still can't sleep at nights.
When Team Traitor arrives on DVD I order you all to burn every copy you find. If you are low on cash, I can assure you that America will not compensate you for your losses. But let me assure you that it's going towards a good cause, as we will also solve world coldness as the bonfire we build to toss these evil DVDs of Satan upon will be large enough to be seen from Ohio (and, as you all know, Ohio is real big).
So remember -- Michael Moore is a traitor, and so is Team America, so instead of celebrating July 4th next year, why don't we just go out and burn Mr. Moore and his so-called "funny" movie of his, along with Team Traitor. We can tie them all to a stake and dress up in Christian Church clothes and dance around the fire while reciting the Bible Man theme song.
Please start marking your calenders! Because if you don't and if you don't show up I'll have you killed for Annoyance of President and Anti-American Behavior and Real Bad Stupid Taste and Pro Michael Mooreism.
If you disagree with what I said above then you are not an American and must hereby leave the country at once and, if possible, also immediately chop off your own special place and/or drink cow urine, depending on your gender. (See previous post for more detailed instructions.)
Until next time, God Bless!
Your Best Pal,
George "I Am Not a Traitor But Michael Moore Sure Is" Bush

Devil Likes UnDivine Lavigne. Or: How I Stopped Worrying and Learned to Deny Satan's Temptation


Yesterday I had to dragon kick a young girl touring the White House when she pointed to my wife and said, "She looks like Avril Lavigne's mom."

This I simply cannot stand. My beautiful wife Laura looks more like Jerry Springer than she does anyone related to Avril "I'm Just a Singer" Lavigne, the atrocious rebel youth who denies the existence of God and flaunts her bum on magazine covers. She is in cahoots with The Satan to corrupt the youth of America through her music videos such as "Sk8er Boi" (notice how she's trying to be real bad and uncomformativistic by making up new words and changing oldish ones).

Make no mistake about it: Avril Lavigne is the Devil, and she will to hell for what she has done, and because she is the Devil, I'm sure she'll like it alot and have some good decorating ideas seeing how she's a girl. But just because she is a girl does not mean she is not evil. She called me on national television a "scrubby nurf-burger." (Note: This is unconfirmed, but knowing that she's the Devil, she probably did it.)

Worst came to worse when I saw an old man buying a magazine copy of Avril Magazine. (Dick Cheney's Note: There is no such thing as Avril Magazine, Georgey must be going blind.) I drop-kicked the old man buying the magazine. I was positive he was taking it home with him to drool over it and give himself The Devil's Self Pleasure.

Okay, so it turns out it was a gift for his grandkids and he was recovering from cancer radiation and back surgery -- so what? He deserved what I opened on him (which was a big can of Jesus Whoop-Butt) because he was paying money for something that was The Devil.

Remember: Everything is The Devil and The Satan, so instead of buying stuff, you should just back yourself into a corner and wait to die and, if you're lucky, go to Heaven and not Hell.


President Bush

Saturday, November 06, 2004

George W. Bush's Non-Approved Multiple Ten-Step Guide on How to Successfully Act Smart (Even if You Aren't).


I was just about to go get some lunch down at Domino's with Dick and Mr. Blackey (they serve real good tuna pizza with pineapple and salami!) but decided to update my bloggey woggy first. It seems a few people have been sending me some emails. I thought it would be fun to answer a few! If you don't think so, you're lame and gay and according to George W. Bush's Homosexualitis Law (see previous diary entry), to make sure The Satan doesn't convert you to evilness you must immediately chop off your own special place if you are a man. If you are a woman (which rhymes with "boo man" which means "boo, you ain't a man!" which means you are not as good as a man because you are a wo-man), then you must drink cow urine.

I swear. This is a new law, to be re-instated as soon as possible. Whatever that means. I dunno, I just always hear people saying it. But that is the Law According to Bush, and I can make you do it because I'm President. So hurry up and report back here as soon as you've completed your task.

Are you back? Good! Use some of your McDonald's napkins (see post "How to Trap a Devil") to stop the bleeding, or if you're a woman (hereby to be known nationwide as "man's lesser traits packaged into an expendable package to cook meals for man") then just drink some milk or something, the taste will go away soon enough.

Anyway, on to the emails.

I heard you are a front. I heard your administration is using you and controlling you. I heard your image is just being manipulated.

Well I asked Laura and she said this wasn't true, and she told me to say so, so there. It's not true. So stop bringing it up. Look, I'm the first to admit I don't do much of anything here. In fact, the last time I actually spoke in front of a camera was four years ago. I just sit around drinking all day and playing with little cocktail umbrellas (I'm telling ya, it's a new business waiting to be born). All these people are always coming into the Oval Office doing things and signing bills and one time I spotted Johnny the bodyguard signing something with my signature. But I'm sure all of this is just coincidence. After all, surely they'd be smart enough to at least realize that if I was just a "front" for the administration the money spent on all my cocktail umbrellas would just be a huge waste. Unless they're just meant to be a means of pacifying me, but come on, that's crazy talk.

Why, every time someone confronts you with a reasonable question based on your own inadequacies or failures, do you turn the tables on them and say stuff like "you're against us if you're not with us" and insult them just because you can't think of a good comeback?

Because I'm the President and I can. Besides, you're just a stupid dingy dongbat.

How can I became smart like you?

This leads me to the point of my post:

By George W. Bush

(Editorialistic Dick Cheney Note: George W. Bush has used this formula but it has not been proved convincing according to and Michael Moore.)

1. Just Nod Alot

Are people asking you confusilating questions alot? Just not alot. This (a) makes them think you agree with them (which is never bad) or are just mildly observing what they're saying or (2) if you accidentally nod when you shouldn't, and they confront you about it, you can easily act as if you're cracking your neck casually. You can then innocently say, "What? I was just cracking my neck." Note: This may backfire if you wear a neck brace or are lying in bed and/or are likewise disabled. I gave this advice to a certain 83-year-old Martha Bay Stevenson. Let's just say that her recovery is going poorly and they're taking her off of IV unit soon if it doesn't improve.

2. If People Confront You About Things, Say You're Busy and Pass it On to Dick Cheney

What can I say? It always works for me.

3. If They Are Confusilating You Just Ignore Them

This works by merely pretending they do not exist, blowing them off or raising a flat palm and saying, "Talk to the hand nigga." Unfortunately it seems black people take offense to this comment, particularly Mr. Blackey. He also hates when I call him Mr. Blackey, especially in public, but I'm the President and I can do whatever I darn well want to.

4. Make Yerself Sound Smart

This is fairly obvious. When Robbie the Robot is on the news pretending to be me, he sometimes messes up and I do, too. The best move here is to simply wipe your mind entirely clean and say the first word that pops into your head. For example, if you're saying, "The state of the world is a messy place," and you can't think of the word "place" on the spot, clear your mind and the first word that pops into your brain should be what you use. For example, I just thought of a word. Let's tie it into the sentence: "The state of the world is a messy poo." I call this process the George Bushilation Process -- the act of drawing words from memory when you're drawing blanks.

Note: It's best not to be constipated when making speeches and drawing blanks, as every George Bushilated word may be related to poo-poo if you do so.

5. No Matter How Low You Go, You Can Always Go Lower

You wouldn't believe how many death threats I got after saying all Iraqian people should be shot and we should nuke the rest of the world. Sheesh. That was the last time they let me fill in for Robbie the Robbot. He was under maintenance at the time and they needed me to make the speech unfortunately.

Unfortunately I kept going lower and lower. I then proceeded to try to cover my fatal blunder by backtracking and saying, "I mean, we shouldn't nuke the rest of the world, just Iraq." Now Arahed Mustafis Birchtree (the Iraqian attending my speech) wasn't particularly fond of this segment of my speech and showed his disapproval by throwing his blunt-edged shoe at me. It cracked me in the skull and I almost bled to death, luckily Dick Cheney was nearby with his EMU and they had just enough juice left over from his last heart surgery to pump back into me in small little bags and wires.

Well, that's it. I hope you like my guide. I realize that's only five steps of ten, but I'm tired and too lazy to finish the rest. So, the last five are: Repeat Step 1, Repeat Step 2, Repeat Step 3, Repeat Step 4 and Repeat Step 5 Until Success.

If you have questions, problems or complaints about this self-help guide written by George W. Bush, please feel free to shut the heck up and not send me anything at all about your feelings because frankly I don't give a rat's bum about you or anyone else. Geesh, what the heck do I goshdarned look like, a lawyer or something? I don't get paid to care about you and I don't want to. I just wanna go play with my cocktail umbrellas. One day, I'm going to make a huge plane out of them and fly to Bermuda on top of the umbrellas. It'll be fun. Maybe I can spot Loch Ness there.

Which reminds me, I just thought of Step Six:

6. Ramble On About Endless Meaningless Pointless Stuff So People Get Bored and Leave You Alone

What's that? Someone in your administration wants to know what to do about something you don't have a clue about and have to act as if you do know about? Take it from me and my years of experience: It ain't worth it. Instead of trying to hurt your brain by concentrating on thinking about stuff, just start rambling on incoherently about things that never happened and are in no way connected to the present in any way, shape or form. Sooner or later they'll get the point and just deliver their message to Dick Cheney, and then you can throw a party like Ferris Bueller because you escaped another stupid dull question by straights in suits. By the way that reminds me of a party I had once when I was 16. Well actually I wasn't 16, I was 15, but that reminds me of why I was confused. You see it all started with the fact that when I was in high school, well actually it wasn't high school, it was a private school where I met this kid named Jack, but everybody called him Jordan even though his name was Jack, and Jordan, he'd always sell these fruits that nobody liked, so one day he asked me if I liked National Velvet the movie and I told him that...

(Dick Cheney's Editorialistic Note: Long Incoherent Rambling Pointless Endless Meaningless Rant deleted due to decency and good taste.)

Any way, gotta go, Mr. Blackey's hungry for pizza and when he gets hungry he gets pretty grumpy. And farts alot. So I better get going.

Have a nice Christian day, and remember: don't smoke pot or have sex unless you're married.


Your Principal Prez,

- George W.

FRIENDS are Just Friends of Satan! Plus: How to Trap a Devil.

Howdy all.

I'm a bit sadd right now. Let me tell you why.

I just got done watching another episode of that perverse television show. You know the one. It lingers on your very lips but you are afraid to say it as you believe Satan may rise from the depths of his hellish underworld to climb into your brain and take control.

But alas I must -- no, must -- say it because I must be the truth. I was watching...


(a.k.a. Freaks Rolling In Evil Naughty Devil's Spawna. I don't know quite what this means but the Lord Jesus Christ my God told me to write it. Also, Dick Cheney paid me a bit of money on the side to see if I could make up a new slogan, so boo-yah Dick -- you owe me five grand. Oh, and Jesus too.)

Real Friends

Evil Friends

For those of you lucky enough to have never seen an episode of this horrible, awful, evil television show, it's almost as bad as when I saw an episode of The Sesame Street with my daughters and threw my beer bottle at the TV. Unfortunately some of the beer got electrified so when I bent down onto the carpet to lap up some of the dripping beer after throwing one of my daughters (I forget her name) off my lap, I got a bit of a shock, hence my incapabilititity to form cohersive sentences sometimes. Also I pushed my daughter away a bit too fast because they found out that I accidentally threw her through the wall into the next room. Sorry, whichever one of you it was!

Anyway, I was so angered by the filth I was seeing -- homosexual puppets being voiced by a known infamous gay AIDs-infacted homsexual! -- that I felt like throwing up. And I did, all over my daughter Jenna. It took a month to get the beer and pretzels out of her hair.

(Dick Cheney's Editorialistic Note: It is not a proven fact that Frank Oz is a homosexual but he did meet Marlon Brando once, and Marlon Brando didn't even like him which says something. Plus, Brando was a known bisexual so I hope he's rotting in hell. Maybe when Frank Oz dies they can share a bedroom and have a threesome with the Devil Satan Lord of of the Underworld of Hell on a daily and consistent basis. Maybe the Kerbleckistcheins or whatever the heck their names are can join them, they'll have a fun ol' time singing along to Jewish Polka Dot Hanukkah songs and bathing themselves in the Devil's filth.)

Today I got so mad by the show Friends that I had a seizure. That's right, a seizure. (Dick Cheney's Note: It was not a seizure.)

I'll tell you how it happened.

There I was, minding my own business trying to hack into the Playboy channel. (Laura put parental controls on! Darn her to heck! Maybe if I threaten to throw her in a jail cell with that Iraqian guy we captured she'll tell me what the unlocking secret number is. After all she won't want to catch his Gingitivis.)

So yeah, anyway, I was just minding my own business when I accidentally clicked the "up yours" button (it used to be just an UP button, but Dick added on the word YOURS because he thought it was funny, and would gain me approvals with the niggas and ho's, but it only made my dad real mad and he slapped me in the ear again. I wish he'd stop that. When I invaded Iraq he hugged me. When I told him, "Maybe we should pull out, maybe I was wrong" he pulled down my pants in front of Bill Clinton and gave me a "royal spanking," as he always calls it. I hate my dad.).

All of a sudden the filth of Satan invaded my eyes. There, on the television screen, was a satanic image and I instantly knew only three people could have put it there: Satan, Osama Bin Laden, Bill Clinton or Oprah Winfrey. That's four people if you can count (and if you can't, join the club), but there are secret reports that Bill Clinton is Oprah Winfrey in disguise, so it kinda works out.

The image blinded my eyes. I screamed, "Oh sweet Jesus my Lord God blind thy eyes from Satan's filth!" And God obeyed my wish because right at that moment Jimmy my security guard ran into the room. I accidentally punched him in the ear because I thought he was Satan violating my special place through the television. I then kicked him and threw him out the Oval Office window by accident. I'm glad to report they're almost done finding the missing bone to put back in his neck. I'm going to send his wife and children a birthday card (we're all out of "Sorry For Breaking Your Husband's Neck" cards) but I'm not sure if I should send along five bucks along with it. After all, I could buy a whole stack of paper for five bucks, so it's a hard choice...

Any way, the image was so awful it has stained me forever. Here it is, are you ready?! DON'T LOOK AT THIS IMAGE IF YOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 30 OR SUFFER FROM CHRONIC GINGIVITIS.

==The Satan's Image That He Uses to Plant Evil Thoughts Into American People's Heads==

Warning, it is not for the faint of hearted. I showed it to Dick Cheney and he had another darned heart attack. Man, when is he going to lay off the burritos? Also, he really needs to stop eating them too because they also give him bad gas. Unless it's Condaleezi Rice, but her's usually smell a bit difference.

Anyway, about the image. Notice how Satan slyly makes it look like the peaceful image of three close friends smiling at their heterosexual wives behind the camera. No one would think more of this than to be a friendly snapshot of good Christian men and their wives behind the cameras having a good old-fashioned Christian time in honor of Jesus Christ our Lord on a pleasant Sunday afternoon as children run amock in the background climbing trees and singing nice Bible hymns and teenagers turn down drug offers off in the distance and say, "Jesus hates drugs! Let's go become preists and choir boys!"

You'd be fine to think this. They're just close friends. But wait -- they look too close. With my perceptivible eyes I finally understood what it was I was seeing in the picture that gave me evil images of mass murder, carnage, and horrible steamy gay homosexual sex.


It is made clear by Satan that they are holding each other's buttocks. Look at the angle of the man on the left, and how the one in the middle is smiling with glee as he receives multiple butt grabs. Meanwhile, the twisted man on the right has his eyebrow arched in a suggestive manner -- is he hiding one of Satan's Special Place Pokies? (Or as you might know them...DO NOT READ FURTHER IF YOU ARE EASILY DISTURBED BY FILTH...a "boner." I shudder just thinking about saying or typing it.)

The women behind the camera are no doubt also homosexuals giving each other Satan's Unnatural Sex acts to pleasure each other as their husbands enjoy Satan's gay sex.

I'll tell you, nothing makes me more sad than seeing things like this. Make no doubt about it -- Satan is slowly but surely infiltrating our society and he is here right now, he is in this room with me, I can see him smiling at me saying, "George, George, you know you want to look at the picture of Mary-Kate and Ashley in their bathing suits," but I'm telling him: "NO Mr. Devil! I am a believer in the Lord Jesus Christ and I will make you go bye-bye if you get near me!"

And that's how you beat the devil at his own game. I haven't been tempted by the devil to have a drink since I was in my thirties. And last time I did, just for fun, I ended up running over three people and an SUV in my bulldozer. So I stopped drinking, got rid of my bulldozer and buried the nine bodies and no one ever found out and to this day I'm a changed man.

So let me tell you how to beat the Devil Who Is Not Our God at his own game. First, you must trick him. You say aloud, "Boy, I shure would like to have some hot gay sex!" but then when he rises out of hell you slap him over the head and scream, "In the name of God I banish you forever!" I've noticed that this always makes him real sad and he goes away.

Note: I have never actually seen the devil per se but every time something bad happens I do see a man appear named Steve. He claims he's my new bodyguard but I know better. He always appears out of secret doors I didn't know about, which leads me to believe he is definitely the Devil. Yesterday he came up to me and said, "Hi, President Bush, how is it going?"

I was prepared. I grabbed my knife from my Official Oval Office drawer, rammed the blade into his stomach and twisted it. Unfortunately I only thought I had gotten my knife, it was actually a pen which was sorta embarrassing because it stained Satan's shirt and he looked at me like I was an idiot, but he hasn't been back since so I know I did something right.

But wait! you are saying. What if Satan reads this and knows I'm trying to trick him?

The answer is simple.


The second available option, of course, is a Satan Trap, available at any nearby church. (Usually sold for around $5 each.) Some priests carry as many as three hundred in stock, just in case the beast rises from hell with the number 666 and attempts to turn us into a bunch of steamy faggots.

Satan is a real sucker for cheese. Merely insert some cheese in the trap, pour the blood of a human over it, and he'll just have to check it out. And then when he does -- wham! You chop his head clean off. Sometimes this can be a bit messy, so prepare with extra towels and napkins. If you don't have any towels or napkins, you can find them at your local McDonald's. The best option, if you're a cheapskate like me, is to get out a map. The first step is to get someone else to mark down where all the McDonald's are, and how to get to each one quickly. You then have someone drive you around to all the different McDonald's. You go into the restaurants and find their napkin displays. You take about twenty. Don't take too many, or they'll think you're stealing. Don't take too little, or they might think you're unhappy with the quality of the napkins which will only make them mad at you and then you might be arrested by Ronald McDonald. (It happened to me when I was six. Ronald McDonald was at a McDonald's restauarant and when my dad left for a few minutes to guy buy a six-pack a few miles away Ronald took me into the men's bathroom and told me I had done something bad. I knew it was the napkins straight away, and he spanked me many times for taking too little and kept calling me a "bad little boy" and making weird noises like "ohhhh yeaaaahhhh." I never told my dad because I was afraid he'd never take me to McDonald's again if he found out how bad I'd been.


That's how to trap a devil. If you have more questions, don't ask me or I'll have you arrested for Annoyance of President. Geesh people, I'm trying to run a country here, I don't have time for stupid stuff.

In summery do not be fooled by evil men like Michael Moore, John Carey, and Oprah Winfrey. Gay sex is not "normal." Most men now are taught, "Oh, it's okay to have thoughts like this, it just means I'm curious and open-minded."

Oh yes well guess what your...





It is not normal. Instead you should just kill yourself. If you ever get one of Satan's Boners by looking at a man, I recommend you immediately shout out, "This in the name of my Lord Jesus!" and proceed to chop off your "special place" so that it no longer tempts you to stick it into special poo-poo holes. You can usually sell special places on or to hospitals. Apparently they then give you a donor card, which gives you special privilages like you get $2 a month or something.

Any way homosexualistic people are not normal, they are evil and are just the next Hitlers. Let me tell you because I know, they just plan to take over the world, they plan on using Satan to help turn us all into homosexualistics so we can laugh at evil TV shows like Friends, Will and Grace, Cheers and Pokemon. (Which sounds like Poke a Man, which means stick your special place inside another man's second special place, which is what Satan does and only Satan should do in the privacy of hell.)

So next time you feel like watching a bit of "harmless" television?


Instead, read the Bible. Or pray with your family. Or sing praises to God and listen to some of Mr. Joe Smith's Incredibly Fun Bible Praise Songs on his new CD, entitled "Let's Have Fun with God."

These are things that Christian people do.

Unchristian people are going to hell. Do you want to go to hell? I didn't think so.

So instead of watching Friends let's all go march and sing the anthem to family Christian shows like Bible Man and The Music Man and The Last Temptation of Christ (I've never seen it, but I heard it was real good).

Just don't go for that awful Mel Gibson version with William Dafoe, that was so horrible and it made Jesus look like a gay man. I'll never forgive Mel Gibson for the shame he brought me in watching it with my scarred them for life. Stay away.

Oh, another good movie to watch with your family is Hitler: The Misunderstood Genius Family Man. It shows what a really good guy he was! So forget what I said about homosexuals being like Hitler, he was a good man and he knew Jewish beliefs that Jesus isn't God was wrong so he was just trying to teach them lessons, and he got a bit carried away.

Instead, homosexualistics are like Mel Gibson -- they are evil, and shouldn't be allowed inside McDonald's or any other public places.

God bless!

Your President,

- George W. Bush

Friday, November 05, 2004

You Mess with Bush, You Get Toast. I Am Not a Magic 8 Ball Despite My Abnormally Bald Head.

Gosh darn it, I'm so sick and tired of hearing all this stuff about politics. Two days back in the stinkhouse and they're already asking me stupid questions like, "Should we deploy more troops?" "Should we give the troops more weapons?" "What is your stance on this document?" and of course, "Should we nuke Iraq?"

Well how the heck am I supposed to know? I don't even know where Iraq is located on a map. (I'm still memorizing where China is, and that one took me a whole year to find on Laura's huge globe.) And do I really look like the type of guy who knows how to nuke something? Can't someone else just do it and say I did? Can't I, as a President of America, ask just that little amount of work to be done for me?

What do people expect? Do they expect me to know what to do about everything? Do I look like a Magic 8 Ball? I don't even have a bald head. Maybe I should shave my head and have a tattoo put on it: I AM NOT A MAGIC 8 BALL DESPITE MY ABNORMALLY BALD HEAD. That would stop people from bugging me. When they went to ask me a question, they'd see the tattoo, and then if they still tried to ask me anything all I'd have to do is point to it and they'd get the message. You've been owned! they'd think to themselves. George Bush taught you a nasty lesson! Yeah, that's right Read the head, fools. You've been OWNED! as Mr. T always used to say.

Look, I only took this job in the first place because they promised me free unbrellas in my cocktails, okay. I figured maybe I could collect a bunch and sell them at retail prices to put some extra cash in my pocket. Plus, with all the billions invested in the war, who'd notice a few million gone missing here and there? Certainly not Colin's Powell and Dick Cheney. Heck, Dick Cheney's so bad at spotting stuff, one time we were playing poker with Dick, me and Mr. Blackey -- Mr. Blackey and me both took cards out of Dick's hand to see what he was holding, then put them back and he didn't even notice. I even went into his wallet and took out a couple hundred dollar bills to give to my daughters. He didn't notice at all! What a loser. No wonder his heart is so bad -- he probably was so blind that it jumped out of his chest and went for a jog one day, and when it came back it was all tired and is still trying to get its air back.

Anyway, yeah. About me answering questions and all -- so nobody ever told me about having to do all this stuff. I mean, earlier today Colin's Powell asked me, "How are we going to cover up the missing WMAs?"

Duh. I don't even know what the heck WMAs are Mr. Blackey! (On a sidenote, my daughters say they are illegally downloaded audio files -- what missing illegally downloaded audio files, then?! I only stole one song in my life, when I was 14. It was called Mr. and Mrs. Kerbleckischtein's Polka Dot Hanukkah Celebration, and let me tell you, it was not a pleasant experience. The music has subliminal Jewish messages in it, such as "Christmas is bad," and the images of the dancing 60-year-old Kerbleckischteins was enough to give me the skiddles for a whole month -- my dad blamed it on too many M&M candies, but I knew better).
So look, here's something for y'all to chew on: If you meet me in the White House, don't be asking me questions about anything. Frankly, I don't care. If you ask me, I'll punch you in the face and order you to die a painful death of treason -- or Michael Mooreism, if you've read my previous diary entries.

Here are allowableistic questions:

1. What is your favorite movie?

2. What is your favorite type of music? (Note: Depending on how I feel on that day, I might have you arrested if I don't want to answer the question.)

3. How did you get to be so handsome? (Only allowableistic in front of Laura, to make her jealous and realize how hot I am so she never feels like leaving me -- when she realizes I have a teenaged girl fanbase, she'll now I'm jiggy-wiggy! Whatever that means.)

But if you ask me one or all of the above, make sure it's short and simple. If you add on any other words, I'll have you arrested. Some people come into the White House and ask me real confusilating questions in front of people to make me look bad. That makes me mad. And the confusilating questions make my head hurt. Now listen, I'll take your photos and I'll smile and answer your silly questions. Heck, I'll even pretend to be your friend if the money's right. But the next person who starts speaking gibberish, I'll have arrested and shot to death for harassment and Annoyance of President -- because I can. You know why?


You don't believe me?

Just wait and see!

You mess around with Bush, you get some toast.

P.S. What is a stance?

Ooops, gotta go, that stupid Colin's Powell guy is talking to me again. Geez, I wish he'd get a girlfriend. Plus, his wife looks really old anyway, so it couldn't hurt to save up another backup just in case. My daddy always told me, "Son, why drive around with just four tires when you can keep an extra one underneath and another in the trunk?" That's always worked out for me real good.

Any way.

God bless!

Your President,

- George W. Bush

I'm Down with the Jiggy-Wiggy, Yo Holmes DawG!

Some people have really been mad at me lately for going to war with Iran! But you know what? I'm glad I did it. Yep, I'm real glad because I know deep down in my heart that everyone else is wrong, and you know how I know that? Because I'm smart. Because I scored 1260 on the SAT! And besides, every time I do something right my stomach makes a weird chug-chug-chugging sound. Laura thinks it's because waging war makes me hungry, but can I help it if I like a bit of chicken salad a few times a day?

Some people say I'm the antichrist. But as all my friends know, it's the complete opposite! I'm down with the Christ, yo!

Which brings me to something else. It seems some people in my administration have become concerned that I'm not "hip with the beeyatches, niggas and ho's," whatever that means. (I don't know, Colin's Powell got real mad when I said it to him though, especially the second word. So I started shouting it real loud to make him mad because he's always talking about confusing stuff that hurts my head, so I kept yelling it and he started clapping his ears like Pee Wee Hermane and said "Nooooo! Not that word!" and ran out of the room like a crybaby!)

Bush: 2
Mr. Blackey: 0


Any way, where was I?

Oh yeah. Anyway, I was told that this could negatively influence the results of the Presidential election if I couldn't connect with the "dawgs and holmes". So I decided to take a stroll around the block outside the White House (in my Mr. Potato Head costume -- no one ever knows it's me, but alot of people must hate Mr. Potato Head because they're always kicking me and stuff alot). I approached a nice young Christian black man and asked him if he knew where the niggas, beeyatches and ho's were. He slapped me in the ear. When I woke up he was gone, but a homeless man told me to try the local bar, Shady Shade's House of Black.

I expected Shady Shade's House of Black to be a friendly Christian environment so I invited some fellow Americans and their families to join me in my search for some holmes. They asked me why I didn't ask a Reality Agent for one but I told them I didn't have one! They seemed to think I was crazy but the joke's on them!

Anyway, I was real mad when I got there because Shady Shade's House of Black was not a Christian envirionment. It was not even nice. There were naked women dancing everywhere. And I felt very uncomfortable because everyone was black and they kept looking at me real weird.

But you won't guess who I saw there. COLIN'S POWELL! Mr. Blackey! He was sitting in front of a young naked black girl who was dancing on his lap. I asked him what he was doing and he said, "Oh hey Prez, I'm just helping this girl find her clothes." I said, "Why is she on your lap?" and he said, "Because they fell there." I asked him how and he said, "Yeah, well, the thing about that is..." and then he hit me over the head with a frying pan. When I woke up all these young Christian black men were behind me and I was in a dark room and I could only hear and feel them, I think they were giving me my annual medical checkup because they kept sticking things in my "second special place" if you know what I mean. (The poo-poo hole, sillies!)

I'll tell you, some doctors must be really thorough because they kept looking around for diseases or whatever in there for EVER! It started to really hurt and I asked when they'd be done and they slapped me over the head and I fell asleep again.

Anyway, when I woke up I was back in front of my computer and Colin Powell was in the Oval Office with me. His face was real red (even though it's usually pretty black) and he looked uncomfertable. I asked him what was wrong and he said nothing. I asked him how I got into the Oval Office and he told me he brought me there. I asked him where Shady Shade went and whether I'd ever find any holme dawgs to call my own, but he just ignored my question. He said, "I put together that rap song you wanted," and I read it. It was real good. He told me, "We're going to have you dress up in gold chains and baggy pants too big for your own good. You're going to dance around a lot and grab your special place and make weird shapes with your hands and wave them at the camera. Then we'll play the music and make it look like you're singing."

I said, "Who really is going to sing?" and he told me they were going to dub me over with Peter Jackson.

Here are the lyrics, I think they're real great. I'll tell you, Colin's Powell shure is good at writing rap songs. Any way, here goes:


Yo, yo, yo
I'm the Prez I'm the Prez
I choked on a Pretz
I like to eat lots of the Pez
And when I'm done make sure not to choke on that
But when I'm done eatin'
And when I'm done smokin'
I get it on get it on get it ohn with my beetch


You gotta gotta make 'em believe
You're down with the blacks
You're down with the holmes
You're down with the ho's

You gotta gotta make 'em belieeeeeeve
You're down with the blacks
You're down with the holmes
Yo yo yo, so is Cheney and his beetches and ho's

(Insert scene where Dick Cheney, dressed in XXL pants and shirts and wearing a large medal around his chest and a bandana, dances against white with seminaked BABES in the background shaking their thangs at him.)




I told Colin I was a bit disappointed with the rest of the song since he didn't write any more but he said he didn't have much time the night before. I asked why but I don't remember what happened after that, because I stop paying attention whenever people talk to me. I have a bit of a short attention span.

Speaking of spans I got a new can of SPAM last Christmas and I'll tell you what, spam is so good it tastes like real meat and when I was down in Texas we ate meat sometimes and there's a good story I have about my buddy Pete, well actually his name wasn't Pete but...


God bless y'all!

- George W. "Down With the Beetches and Ho's" Bush

"Moore" is Less!

Michael Moore is a fat bogus diddy dongbat. I don't know if "diddy" or "dongbats" are words, but darnit, I'm the President. I can do whatever the heck I darned well want to. So from here on out, gosh darn it to heck, "diddy" is a word (a verbal) and "dongbats" is a word, too (a plural adjectivaty). I almost became a teacher when I was younger, but now I'm glad I didn't, because I can actually make up words and help children suceed in skool in stead.

But anyway, I was talking about Michael Moore. Yeah. You know what he called me once? A fascist. Can you believe that? I don't know anything about fascism, every time my wife asks me if I like furniture, clothes or curtains I say, "How the heck should I know?" Plus, I'm not fruity -- all fascits are fruity. Those guys on that awful, perverse TV show Queer Eye for the Straight Guy are fascists. Not President George W. Bush. No sir.

Michael Moore just likes to make stupid lies about me, that's all he does: lie, lie, lie, lie, lie. His new "movie" documentary that came out, Fahrenheit 9/11, showed posters with me holding hands with him.

I never held hands with Michael Moore. If I did, I'd chop off my hand because no doubt his infectious fat germs would spread from his chubby palms into mine.

By the way, that reminds me -- from here onwards, I am replacing the word "fat" in dictionaries with "Michael Moore." So when you see some fat tub of lard walking down the street, you don't say, "Hey, that [insert bad word here] is fat," you say: "Hey, that [insert bad word here] is Michael Moore!"

Hahahaha, I can't believe I only thought of this now.

If you're still not convinced that Michael Moore is a big tub of Michael Moore, let me tell you other things he did:

- He called me a nurf-burger.

- He took a poo-poo on my front porch of the White House. (Note: This is unconfirmed, but he was in Washington D.C. at the time, and my two security guards noticed a very Michael Moore man fleeing the scene of the poop shortly thereafter. And gosh darn it, for some reason they forgot to tell me about it and when I went outside to breathe in some fresh air I accidentally stepped in it. Took me a whole week to clean it off my shoes! Darn you Michael Moore!)

- His documentary Fahrenheit 9/11 is all lies! I don't have any statistics to show you, but from me to you, I can only give you my word of honor -- they're lies! All of them! Plus, Mr. Blackey told me that Michael Moore digitally altered things in his so-called "documentary." Well well well, NOW who's lying to America, Mr. Moore? From here on out, I'm replacing the word "b*stard" and "traitor" with Michael Moore. So if you see a fat person walking down the street and he is a traitor, you say, "That Michael Moore is a Michael Moore!" Or, if it is Michael Moore, you can say for some extra fun, "Michael Moore is a Michael Moore Michael Moore." (Translation: Michael Moore is a fat traitor.)

- He brainwashed his daughter into thinking I'm evil. I honestly don't know why, but when I met her one day on the set of his documentary (which I was, at the time, contrary to popular belief, not throwing water balloons and paint cans at), she pulled out a .38 on me and kicked me in the testicles.

Now, is that the kind of husband and father who deserves any ounce of respect?

Michael Moore is a Michael Moore, and that's all there is to it. If you don't agree with me, I'll order you to be hanged for high Michael Moore (interpretation: treason) because it means you're a big meanie.

- George Bush

My Head Hurts

Howdy (as they say in Texas!),

Earlier today Donald Rumsfield called me up and kept blathering on about something. He kept saying "very important" and used the word "nucular destruction" a whole lot but I didn't pay attention, because I was too busy watching The Simpsons.

Let me tell you all something I've learned in my long hard-working years as a politician. When people are talking to you about boring stuff (and they always are), just nod your head alot. This gives them the impression that you know what they're talking about, even if you don't (and trust me, you won't). I can't tell you how many times I've been on the phone with Tony Blair and just said, "Yep," "Yeah," "Uh-huh," and ended the conversation not knowing what it was even about in the first place. Heck, if you ask what the Queen of England said to me when we met a few months ago, I wouldn't know 'cuz I wasn't even paying attention to her! People with funny accents like the Queen get on my nerves alot.

Sometimes this backfires, so you've gotta be careful. For example, one time my Mom was visiting the White House. She had brought along new curtains for the Oval Office. She kept asking me if I liked them, and I kept going "Yup," "Uh-huh." But my crafty ol' ma knew I was playing her for a fool so she said to me, "You aren't listening, are you Georgey?" and I said, "Uh-huh," and she said, "You aren't?" and I said, "Yep," so she took her Bible and threw it at my TV and told me that I wasn't allowed to watch Simpsons any more, I had to pay attention to her and her curtains.

The second tip is, of course, the "I know you are but what am I." One time I was with Colin Powell (or as I like to call him, Mr. Blackey). He was asking me questions and yelling saying, "You promised Americans you would [insert promise here], but you're not doing it!" Then he kept yelling and stuff and he asked me some question, but I wasn't paying attention so I said, "I know you are but what am I?" That shut him up, and he ran off to his bedroom, shut the door and cried for hours.

Bush: 1
Mr. Blackey: 0

This is especially embarrassing, however, during some of my speeches. I have to "appease the crowds" as Mr. Blackey often tells me so all these reporters are always asking me confusing questions I don't know the answers to. So one time this bald guy, Mr. Peterson or something (he's always asking stupid questions), he goes, "Yo Mr. President! What's your stance on [blah blah blah]." I didn't know the answer so I said, "I know you are -- but what am I?" Unfortunately it seems this upset a few people in my Republican party and they told me I wasn't allowed to give speeches anymore because everyone thought I was being weird, so every time I make a speech on TV nowadays it's really a synthetic robot. Heck, the last speech I actually made was back in 2000. Since then it's been Robey the Robot! (Or as I like to call him, Colon's Powell.)

Any way, I've gotta go y'all but I'll tell y'all that I've got some interesting stories to tell later and I'll be back later as the fine Mr. Arnold Schwarzenegger told me once. (What a funny guy! Sort of weird accent though, I don't really pay attention to anything he's saying accept when he makes funny jokes about his movies, like when he said John Carey told "True Lies" -- LOL!)

P.S. What does LOL mean?


Your President, George W. Bush

Thursday, November 04, 2004

I'm a Little Mad

Hi all,

Well not much is going on here now at the White House. Daddy stopped by for a few hours earlier with my mom and he told me how proud he was, blah blah blah. I sorta stopped listening after a while because he talks too much and his lips flap around a lot now that he's older, so it's hard to pay attention to him. He's just a blathering old fool if you ask me. Plus, he kept jabbing me in the ribs and saying stuff like, "Ya beatcha old pops at a second term y'old dog you!" I felt like yelling, JUST SHUT UP DAD! But then the Lord Jesus Christ sent me a message through telecommunication (which Laura is real good at too) and told me not to, because we must respect our parents.

I still think he's an old fart.

I had a bit too much to drink last night and got a pretty bad hangover. Dick was shouting stuff into my ear again earlier today and I just had to put my hands on my head and then I accidentially slapped him in the ear. I apologized immediately but when I opened my eyes again he was lying on the floor having another heart attack. I really should have gotten a Vice President with a better heart. Maybe they'll let me do a trade like at WalMart -- I accidentally bought Girls Gone Wild and Laura made me exchange it for Simpsons Gone Wild, which is sort of funny but my dad didn't like it much and slapped me when he found out I bought it. For some reason he really hates it.

Well, gotta go, I'll keep you updated on how everything's going but right now some strange man in a black suit is telling me stuff I couldn't care less about and I have to act as if I know what he's blabbering on about.

God bless!

- George "Walker Texas Ranger" Bush

We Won!

Hi all,

You might recognize my name. That's because if you are an American, I am your President. If not, you're missing out!

Last night after winning the 43rd annual Presidential election I partied all night long with my wife, who is the love of my life. My two daughters went missing partway through the party, but don't worry folks, they turned up the next morning downstairs in my bodyguard's bed. He told me that he took the liberty to put them to bed because they were getting a bit tipsy (if ya know what I mean!). I asked him why he put them in his bed and he gave me a quizzical glance. "My covers are prettier," he said, and I agreed.

I can't tell you what a relief it was to beat that scumbucket John Carry. I mean, what a douche. First he totally makes a fool out of me at the debates, and then he flip flopps. And you know what else? I didn't tell anyone else this, but he called me a very naughty word over the phone once. Now, tell me honestly, did you really want someone who called me a narf-burger to be your president?

I didn't think so. Let me congratulate all of you on making the best choice in re-electing me. And woo hoo! I now set the record for the most votes ever. Take that! Michael Moore.

So I'll talk to y'all later as they say in Texas. I'm off to approve a few things I haven't read, but good ol' Dick says that he has skimmed through them and they're just some boring things about execution permissions, blah blah blah. I'll tell ya, this job has its down parts but the end-of-the-year boat trip makes it all worth it.

God bless!

- George Walker Bush