The Prez is always happy, loose, and utterly serene after he's made the decision to go somewhere and blow some shit up. In the weeks leading up to Iraq, everyone commented on how the only person in Washington who wasn't strung out and sitting on the edge of their seats -- the only person who was, in fact, happy, loose, and utterly serene -- was The Prez. He's a happy guy again, no longer the peevish, garbled, shrunken man he was a few short weeks ago. I'm thinking the decision was made when he and McCain met the other day. McCain probably serenaded him with a snappy chorus of "Bomb bomb bomb, bomb bomb Iran!" and Bush said, "Say, Squirrelly, that's a fine idear ya got there. Bomb Iran? Sheeit, I bet that'll get me outta these doldrums! Hey Fallon, ya traitorous peacenik piece a crap! Yer fired! We're goin' in! Noo-clear combat, toe ta to with the rag-heads! Yee hawwwwww!"
I'm gettin' my drunk on. Who's with me?
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2 comments:
If this turns out to be true, I may need to say yes the next time Eva asks if we can move to the beach.
Don't know if they beach will be far enough. I hear Antarctica is nice this time of the year.
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