Bush, Dick, asshole
I want to thank George W. Bush -- affectionately
known as The Guv -- for writing my column this week. It makes
my life a lot easier.
You know what I'm talking about. Apparently,
a hidden microphone picked up a comment he made about New York
Times reporter Adam Clymer. And where was the mic hidden? Right
under his blow-snortin' hose nose. Had the mic been placed on
a mirror, he would have known right away.
Reportedly, Bush said, "There is
Adam Clymer -- major league asshole from the New York Times over
there." And Dick replied, "Yeah, he is big time."
I'm confused. Was it really a put-down?
I mean, given that the Republicans are running the full genital
ticket this year, maybe asshole is a term of endearment. As in,
"There goes my asshole buddy, Adam. I just love that fuckwad."
Hard to tell.
Karen Hughes, The Guv's communications
director, seems to believe the remark was derogatory. "It
was a whispered aside to his running mate," she said. "It
was not intended for public consumption."
No shit, Karen. You think?
I'll go out on a limb and assume it was
meant as a putdown. Apparently, The Guv didn't like some of the
articles Clymer wrote about him, so he called him an asshole.
Fair enough. But it makes me wonder what kind of nickname he'd
have for me. Something less dignified than asshole, I bet.
"Hey, look Dick. Cocksucker-motherfucker
just walked in."
I guess I'll never know, since I've never
met The Guv and my window of opportunity to meet him is probably
closed. Well, at least till the second week of November.
But I did attend a party at his house
last year. I managed to crash the Austin Film Festival opening
night bash at The Gov's mansion, where I took advantage of the
free liquor and made a point to visit the bathroom so I could
take advantage of the free blow. Man, I searched that bathroom
from top to bottom, but didn't find a fleck of the white stuff.
I even licked the mirrors clean just to make sure. Nothing.
As I left the bathroom, another reporter
collared me. "The good shit's upstairs in the private bathroom."
That figures. I guess The Guv's cocaine
stash isn't meant for public consumption either. Asshole.
(By the way, I'd like to interrupt this
column to announce that I have absolutely no plans to run for
public office, either now or in the future. And you know the
fuck why.)
Don't get me wrong. Just because I like
to rag on the Big W. doesn't mean I'm giving The Tin Man Gore
a ringing endorsement. But at least Gore has a sense of semantics.
After all, he didn't choose a running mate named "Ox"
or "Vidal" or even worse "Quayle."
I guess the Republicans just can't help
it. Whenever they have the opportunity to run a Dick, it's too
tempting to resist.
The good news? If the Bush-Dick ticket
wins, I should have a lot to write about.
"Look, it's that fuckin' camel jockey
Arafat," Bush said today.
"Is Barney Frank still waiting to
see me? Shit, go ahead and send the old butt-slammer in."
"Chris Rock? Who is he, a dealer?
I get it. Street name, right?"
"Buenos dias, Presidente. Usted tiene
una cara como puerco!"
You know, something tells me Bush isn't
going to win. He's simply running out of feet to shoot. And even
though I'll miss his I-can-hang-with-Quayle-if-I-have-to quotes,
at least I'll have one consolation:
He won't have Cocksucker-motherfucker
to push around anymore.
* * *
WHY IS IT ALWAYS THE FLU?: Professional athletes never
get colds. They always have the flu. Have you noticed that? For
example, a couple of weeks ago, Tiger Woods took on Sergio Garcia
in match play. And the announcer said, "Tiger isn't feeling
his best. He's hampered by the flu." Bullshit. He had a
fuckin' cold. Apparently, the flu retains a better press agent.
* * *
LESBIAN MARRIAGE IN TEXAS: I fuckin' love this! The
State of Texas granted a marriage certificate to two lesbians
this week. And it's all perfectly legal. Why? Cause one of them
was originally born a man.
That puts a little cum spot on the social fabric of God-fearing
Texans, don't you think?
* * *
STANDARD DISCLAIMER:
This column aims to be funny. If you can read anything else into
it, you're on your own.
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