Dubya Was Such a Quiet Man, a Chronic Bed-Wetter Who Had a Problem with Pets

"If this were a dictatorship, it'd be a heck of a lot easier...just as long as I'm the dictator..."
- Dubya, Washington, DC, Dec 18, 2000

"I'm the commander - see, I don't need to explain - I don't need to explain why I say things. That's the interesting thing about being the President. Maybe somebody needs to explain to me why they say something, but I don't feel like I owe anybody an explanation."
- Dubya, Washington Post, Nov 19, 2002

The headline in tomorrow's New York Times says Dubya acknowledges "mixed success" in his personal hell hole known as Iraq, while clutching the memory of Donald "Redrum" Rumsfeld like a bad magician does with a rubber chicken. They suck eggs together for breakfast nowadays and wander back and forth through the Rose Garden, spitting frequently into the manicured lawn and brooding about the daily news from the front, even though they can't pronounce the names of the cities without phonetic cue cards ... Something about Najuddah and Saddamville outside of Bangladesh; those towel-wearing little buggers who are vaporizing kids with car bombs and shelling temples with RPG's, and now he has the ACLU ratcheting up the odds by a bunch of lefty commies who - in Dubya's own words - want "the justice system [to] affect the flow of capital."

Absolutely, folks ... What in the hell does Dubya expect the ACLU to do when confronted with evidence of prisoner abuse that was signed as an Executive Order by a sitting preznut? Pick a special prosecutor, start torturing the civilians in the Pentagon, put hoods on their heads, cut of an ear for good measure, then soak the bastards with gasoline and threaten to toss the match, like Michael Madson in Reservoir Dogs.

For crying out loud! How much more of this low rent chickenshit are we expected to take from this mindless little cretin? Who really gives a shit if he's got his balls in a vice over this Iraqi mess? If there was any semblance of true justice in America these days, his reeking carcass could be found somewhere at the end of an anchor in the Gulf of Mexico right about now, being torn apart by a Mako shark feeding frenzy.

But America is not so lucky tonight - he is sitting down there in his leather deskchair in the Oval Office, guarded by wild-eyed Secret Service agents and still trying to convince the rest of us that this idea of democracy and freedom in Iraq was a great adventure worth taking while burning every living thing between him and the encircling rounds of puff-ball, sycophant questions by press corps parasites ... and still fascinating the national media with the same homegrown stylings of a pie-faced inbred sowing his cumquat fields on a John Deere, which served him so well in the last weeks of his hijacked election ...

"Last month, Marines across the world broke out their dress blues to celebrate the 229th birthday of the Corps," he said two short weeks ago. "But the men and women of Camp Pendleton's 1st Marine Expeditionary Force marked the occasion a little differently - by fighting the enemies in Iraq."

Well ... hot damn. I might have been tempted to put my overactive mind at ease knowing that the preznut sees the problem in Iraq as not having enough good Marines to sacrifice in the name of God and Country ... but there is a constant suspicion that probably the gang of mean rednecks running the White House has already solved Dubya's problem for him. They are going to indict a few FBI agents for speaking to the ACLU, and then put them all of them on trial for treason.

Dubya already has the playbook on this fiasco. He is not the kind of executive you'd want reporting your earnings-per-share to the SEC, but the gravity of his Iraqi dilemna vis-à-vis the ACLU is so scandalous that even he is beginning to understand the potential danger to his presidency ... and this is the reason, it seems, for the more or less daily idiot-shot comments on cable television, revealing a half-mad and pathetically disturbed mental condition. In this manner Dubya is becoming a mini-carbon copy of Iron Mike Tyson before a big fight when the cameras suddenly capture him in the middle of a pseudo-breakdown - the same kind of two-fisted crazystorm between haldol injections that climaxed with the decision to lunge for Lennox Lewis and shout that he "wants to eat his children" - or the time he figured a way to pour the quicksand on the Abu Ghraib investigation by blaming the Pentagon and Lyndie England with some action photos.

"The methods that the Defense Department has adopted are illegal, immoral, and counterproductive," said ACLU staff attorney Jameel Jaffer. "It is astounding that these methods appear to have been adopted as a matter of policy by the highest levels of government."

A two-page e-mail referencing an Executive Order states that the Chimperor directly authorized interrogation techniques including sleep deprivation, stress positions, the use of military dogs, and "sensory deprivation through the use of hoods, etc." Another e-mail, dated December 2003, describes an incident in which Defense Department interrogators at Guantanamo Bay impersonated FBI agents while using "torture techniques" against a detainee. The e-mail concludes "If this detainee is ever released or his story made public in any way, DOD interrogators will not be held accountable because these torture techniques were done [sic] the ‘FBI’ interrogators. The FBI will [sic] left holding the bag before the public."

Once you get past the duh, we knew it all along part, and actually get down to what does this all mean to his presidency, you realize that we are a nation full of scared little sluts who scream for blood at the first sign of hardship or discomfort, and that the hypocritical nature of everything amerikkkan probably means that this probably won't amount to a hill of shit amongst the 51% who voted for him in the first place (and that percentage is still worthy of debate if you believe the news coming out of Ohio these days). Now it's time to demonize the ACLU on the talking heads shows and next they'll be outlawed or called terrorists, or something even worse. Just imagine a crowd of people screaming for revenge outside a prison wall waiting for the execution of a borderline retard to begin in Huntsville, and you've got the Norman Rockwell postcard for Dubyaville ... shallow, vacant, victimized in only their minds because it's somebody else's fault that they live in a trailer and couldn't go to an Ivy League college, totally strung out on what other people tell them is God, and overcome with economic, sexual and personal oppression because no one bothered to teach them how to "think" and "feel" as opposed to "react with outrage," which they do like a bloodthirsty pack of idiot savants during the hours of Desperate Housewives and Judge Judy.

So ... what we could be looking at here, roughly a month before his final Inauguration for anything, is the potential of a multi-millionare ex-preznut and admitted felon; a congenital crook and sociopathic simp who spent ten years on the public dole and then quit suddenly, just before the cord was pulled on the guillotine ... leaving Dick Cheney at the controls all Al Haig-like for the next ten years, or until the pacemaker finally quits reminding his heart that he was still alive. If Dubya fights this one to the bitter end - as he will promise Daddy he will do "as long as the religious right sees it in its grace to forgive him" - he will risk the lifelong national endowment check and his personal security detail, ensuring that he can be seen in the same camera shot as Jimmy Carter, Bill Clinton and Dear Old Dad until the funeral procession finally catches up with him.

Most of this annual bonus-baby will arrive, in one shape or another, out of the pockets of American taxpayers. Every single taxpayer, friends. Even Al Gore and John Kerry will kick in a few cents to his retirement slush fund every year. And so will you and I, unless the Democrats rise up and get themselves a special prosecutor and nail the criminally insane filcher to the cross with enough felony counts to strip him not only of the right to vote, like Spiro Agnew, but also cut off his pipeline to the US Treasury - which is not very likely at all given that Cheney knows where all the bodies are buried, and that in itself means he would pull a Gerald Ford and pardon the freak out of sheer guilt by association.

We will hear reports that the soon-to-be ex-preznut gets down on his knees in front of the White House paintings with Condi begging God for strength and insight, and that Dubya frequently bursts into tears for no good reason ... except when the Oval Office runs out of Jim Beam, that he moans and lets out heart-pounding screams of regret every night in his sleep, and The Houston Chronicle will come upon "leaked" psychological evaluations from the Texas Air National Guard indicating that Dubya was "a chronic bed-wetter" and could be found "torturing neighborhood cats" when not hanging around the Officer's Club for free rounds of filth and backwash. And if Dubya still resists the inevitable, his wholesale removal from the office of preznut, the rest of the world will start seeing front-page exclusive photos in The National Enquirer of him alone on the ranch, drooling incoherently on a backyard hammock with alcoholic urine stains on his ranch overalls.

"The time has passed when America will make every other nation's conflict our own, or make every other nation's future our responsibility, or presume to tell the people of other nations how to manage their own affairs."
- Tricky Dick, Second Inaugural Address - Saturday, January 20, 1973

In the mean time, where is Special Prosecutor Leon Jaworski when you need him? It's really starting to feel like Richard Milhous Nixon all over again.