Mortaljive: The Rest is Silence

There is no still point in all the Universe, and that is the rock upon which I stand

Wednesday, March 01, 2006

The Madness of King George


President Thinks He’s President, Meds Adjusted For Inflation

(Jivester News, Lmtd.) George W. Bush, the 43rd President of the United States of America, told a young boy who stood in line at a DC area mall (hoping to buy a new Xbox) that he was “...President of the country” and "My birthday is in July." Onlookers pleaded with Secret Service bodyguards to lead Bush over to the food court, where he could be fed in a manner that wouldn't bother other mall shoppers, who can in turn be shameless in their collective staring and whispering. Bush, who hardly drooled at all, appeared to be fixated upon the boy, yelling as he was escorted to the Orange Julius, “He’ll grow up and fight for God. Perils shall rain upon him, pull him into the dark corners, among the filth and dung heaps, and evil will be his hair.”

This was just the latest in a series of incidents where the Leader of the Free World has taken it upon himself to puncture the air with his “Go It Alone” sermons, many of which have been performed impromptu as he escapes his “handlers” and races to what he calls the “Golden Doors to Nimrod.” During his recent visit to China, just out of earshot of the camera crews, Bush sang snippets of ribald fraternity songs while attempting to pee on his shoes. Vice-President Dick Cheney, rumored to have feelings, has refused to walk with George to the market, muttering “Stupid kid. Everybody stares at us. I hate going to the store with him.”

Some critics of sanity have dismissed the latest speculations about the President's abilities to lead the nation. Fergus N. Klegrauber, speaking on condition of anonymity, noted that "...Bush no longer hears voices in his head." Klegrauber continued with "While it is true the President now hears voices coming from his clothing, his fingers and certain varieties of breakfast cereals, he at least doesn't seem unduly impressed with those voices' opinions." Klegrauber then rolled his eyes and made a whirling motion with his right forefinger, as if to negate everything he was saying. He was later taken outside and shot.

It turns out Americans need not waste time thinking about this subject: there is no mechanism in place to remove a whacko president from office. We made our bed, and we should bleed to death in it.

Is the President crazy? Has he become a loon? Are the inner workings of his brain a synaptic fireworks display of brimstone and pinwheels on a field littered with empty flasks and pom poms? Careening bottle rockets and star bursts against a crimson sky? Has “The Coddled One” encountered locked doors at every exit of his mind, and now circles endlessly about, searching for an escape from the scarred landscape that is his core identity? Who cares? As long as Big Oil gets permanent American military bases in Iraq...

The great proof of madness is the disproportion of one's designs to one's means.
Napoleon Bonaparte


Diane Arbus image from here.

Author's note: I almost didn't post this story on the main page as the subject matter has been explored by other posters, but then I thought 'Bush is crazy, so go ahead' and that was that.



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