Dear George,
The days they are a dwindling. Only 89 days before your fifteen minutes of fame come to an end. The only question is, can you get out before the entire structure comes crashing down around you.
You’re wise to stay holed up in the Oval Office while the grownups do the heavy lifting, though you might want to barricade the door. those scraping sounds you hear are the peasants sharpening their pitchforks. You don’t want to end up like Emperor Jones, running for your life through the jungle. Not that it matters. The country can’t afford silver bullets, anymore.
The one sputtering candle that still survives the darkness that is enveloping your presidency is the sick humor that comes out of the mouths of your flacks.
Take, for example, the security pact we’re trying to ink with Iraqis. All of a sudden the natives are getting testy and want some changes before they’ll agree to it. Meanwhile, your rogue officials are hot to trot because they want a pact in place before the Security Council Resolution that “justifies” our presence in Iraq expires on Dec. 31.
Enter, stage left, White House Press Secretary Dana Perino, who delivers a line that could have been torn out of a skit on “The Daily Show” when she says that without an agreement, “There will be no legal basis for us to continue operating there…”
That’s like a mugger saying that unless his victim signs a hold-harmless agreement, there would be no legal basis for the mugging to take place.
I’m going to miss you, Big Guy.
Your admirer,
Belacqua Jones
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
In times like these, anyone who doesn`t find humor in irony is in deep shit...
...or a neocon.
Post a Comment