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


Blogger RuggerJay said...

This is one of the funniest goddamn things I've read. I'm linking you on my blog. Keep it up!

November 5, 2004 at 4:40 PM  
Blogger Karl said...

Very original blog idea. Keep up the political satire.

November 6, 2004 at 6:58 AM  
Blogger Dan said...

I'd like to suggest a fourth question, "How did you get so smart?" Your amazing use of the English language is an inspiration to every American and even England. Did you ever wonder why we speak "English" and not "American?" I mean, they speak French in France and Japanese in Japan, so how come we have to call our God-given language "English?" They don't love Jesus nearly as much as we do.

Please, Mr. President, do something about that. I want to purge (remove) all traces of so-called "Great" Britain from my life. We could totally bomb them and they would never expect it. No more English, just American!

November 6, 2004 at 8:55 AM  

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