The thing is hitting the fan and I feel tired and overwhelmed. After all the credit card is maxed out since I spent so much on Iraq, Afghanistan and gave the rest to my buddies and friends in Halliburton. I care about the military and I worry about their not having the resources to fight my war on terror. But that’s not my problem – its ole Bob’s bag so let him deal with it. Don’t know if he’ll do well jes’ look at what happened to ole Rummy.
Then this stupid hurricane had to come and hit New Orleans, Mississippi and Alabama. I know that I thanked God it was not Texas. God would not let a hurricane hit my ranch in Crawford because I’m about his business. But lucky I have Poppy to help me do my work. So he’s going to take care of me as usual. I don’t care what they say Poppy is not the president – I am. Okay? Gee, if Karl and Dick where not so uptight about this hurricane thing about how its going to take billions to rebuild I would just ignore it. What a waste! I agree with Dennis why the heck we can’t simply bulldoze the crap?
I just feel to slink away. Why me? This is hard work. Maybe I ought to take some rest in Crawford and do a bit of barbeque. Osama, Zarquwai, Afghanistan, Iraq and Iran are giving me a headache. This Katrina thing has really got me steamed. Why do I have to go to these places? Why can’t they just see me on TV?
Some people say I made a mess of Iraq as I did my oil business. But that’s not so the failure of my oil business was not my fault. How could I know that there was no oil in the dessert? Am I a geologist? I’m a businessman and I just thought there was oil there but I still have the last laugh I know there is oil in Iraq. See, Dick told me so.
They say I spend too much money on things and stuff. How can I fight the war on terror without dough, lots of dough? And even though I have not caught Osama and I’ve stopped talking about him, and even though things look bad in Iraq I’m winning the war on terror. It’s unpatriotic to say that I’m not winning. I passed the Patriot Act didn’t I? I even arrested people with terrorist-sounding names and I have a whole bunch of them in Cuba. Can’t they see I’m winning?
You know each night I talk to God. He listens to my prayers because I have Pat Robertson who wants me to kill Hugo Chavez in Venezuela. Pat’s a good man. A true Blue-Blood. If he says that Chavez is a bum and should be killed then I ought to do it because Pat’s a very Christian and God-fearing fella. Maybe I should invade Syria or Iraq or get the Israelis to do it. All this thinking makes my head hurt and since I can’t drink I might as well just say something nasty to somebody. It makes me feel good.
About my past drinking. People keep saying that Black kids who get caught Driving While Intoxicated (DWI) end up in jail while white kids who commit the same offense get to become president of the United States. Why are they attacking me? I don’t’ hear them talking about pot-smoking Bill Clinton but they keep talking about when I was on the water-wagon. Those days are gone forever and I’m a born again Christian. And what’s this thing about me sanctioning torture? That’s a bold-faced lie. I mean, if we deprive someone of sleep, set dogs on ‘em, and beat them a few times is that torture? Not in my book. That’s just a part of extracting information and it’s not like we’re killing people. What are a few broken bones in comparison to National Security? Besides our boys and girls in uniform are good people, decent Christian folk who are only doing their job of protecting America.
I’m going to bed now and I have to pray to my God.