Dub old buddy! Say it isn’t so. You are actually moving out and stepping down? My heart is broken. Here you’ve gone and ignored that "God damned piece of paper" for eight years, been handed the means and excuse to declare yourself dictator for life… uh… excuse me… "Unitary Executive For Life" and you haven’t shocked and awed the world by jumping on the chance like Slim Pickens riding The Bomb?
What am I to think now? You’ve been so consistent. Why the heck are you actually adhering to part of the U.S. Constitution? Dude… you were batting one thousand in the scorn and disrespect category. What gives?
Oh well, it’s just more white phosphorus over Gaza in the "peace process."
Now then, I don’t mean to rattle your road apples but to be honest, over the past eight years some of your "advisors" have not been giving you good advice. You look faint. Do you need a good "bracer?" Sorry, it’s true. With the exception of Yours Truly, you’ve been told more (vernacular not to be stepped in) than a herd of Texas Longhorns.
So to the point, now that you are retiring from public humiliation and war mongering, what will you do?
As usual, I’m here to help. Let’s peruse some of your weaknesses and see if we can’t find one that could be turned into a suitable meal ticket for an ex-democratic dictator.
Okay… how about International Elder Statesman? You could lock arms with Jimmy Carter and… Uh… Well, both of you have a regional accent. And both of you have "issues" with G.H. Bush, you know, yo’ pappy. But, other than that… let’s move on to something else.
Okay, how about this? Gentleman Landowner? Wait, maybe that’s also inappropriate. It’s too… and I shudder at the thought… British. Not for you Dubya you old windshield cowboy. To be a British Gentleman Landowner you must need to speak English… not American Hillbilly. There is a difference. Not to mention as a Gentleman Landowner one must mount a proper steed during the foxhunt and not a mountain bike. It just isn’t cricket old chump. Besides, the grapevine has it you bought a what? Four-bedroom house? We shall skip this noble retirement plan.
How about you saunter through the corporate revolving door of the Military-Industrial Complex as a consultant? You know Dead-Eye Dick already must have something lined up in his sights… besides his lawyer. KBR, Halliburton, Raytheon, McDonnell-Douglas, Blackwater Worldwide or the Luftwaffe might just blow wide open to have you on their board of directors.
Then again… since the mission is not actually accomplished maybe, in your case, that revolving door is jammed like an M-16 in the Me Kong Delta. Pity. You should have taken better care of your toys.
Okay… okay… chin up. There is a slot out there.
Humanitarian Spokesman? Sorry, bad joke.
I got it! You could become the owner of a professional sports team! Go for the gusto and give 110% always! And as you know, the bigger the dictator owner, the more championships. You could be the next Steinbrenner! Oops. I’d better "cork" that idea. Didn’t you already fail as the owner of a pro-baseball team?
Man George, you’re gonna join that 7.2% who are unemployed if we don’t find something toot sweet!
How about that "Freedom Institute?" You’re free to be the director of that right? And I’m sure you can find the funding somewhere. You’ve always been able to sucker some oil-rich country to bail you out when you needed a favor… or fast cash.
Now as I understand it you already have four outstanding professors signed on to teach "freedom." You have my colleagues in journalistic abuse, Chris Floyd and Fred Reed running courses on Political Stupidity and Asinine Absurdity. Ted Nugent is headmaster of Killin’ and Grillin.’ And unless I am mistaken, my post is headmaster of Guitar Destruction and Social Irreverence studies. You do remember those guitar lessons I gave you right? Oh don’t tell me you’re not practicing! That does it! You’re out of The Band!
Besides, If you don’t offer Karen Kwiatkowski the slot of Vice ber-Chancellor, Mike Gaddy the post of headmaster in charge of Subversion, Mike (in Tokyo) Rogers the professorship of Propaganda… I mean, "Perception Management" and Linda Shrock-Taylor as Mistress of Discipline, I quit. (I hope I didn’t leave anybody out.)
Fair dinkum Hillbilly Boy. You never knew diddlysquat about real freedom anyway. Besides, nobody has applied for admission. I mean what do they expect to learn? Are you planning on sitting there on your Gluteus Maximus like the Emperor Moronicus Ignoramus while attempting to read The Pet Goat out loud, over and over and over?
Forget it. The G.W. Bush Freedom Institute is sunk before it left the shipyard. Even the WW II German battleship Tirpitz got further.
However… Mien Fhrer, I have a cunning plan. What is it that you have done best, without equal, these past eight years? Where is it you have always shown like a beacon of… beacon of… Well, where have you been happiest?
That’s it! Dubya, you are a natural thespian! Or at least a comedic buffoon. Cash in on your strength! I swear I have rolled on the floor in conniption fits of hysteria at your "speeches."
Listen, Dear Dubya, you’re a natural. You knock ‘em dead. You kill. You kick ass. You take no prisoners. The stage is your stomping ground.
So here’s what I suggest: Team up with your old hand-puppet Tony Blair and rekindle the fires of Vaudeville! Singing! Dancing! Clowning around and stupid jokes! Crosby! Hope! You guys get the hook! Burns and Allen have been cancelled for tonight. It’s G.W. Bush and his ventriloquist accomplice Tony The Daft Blair!
I’ll be you manager. And I already have you a "headlining" gig. You’ll be the star attraction on January 21 at a U.N. School in Gaza! Uh… we’ll see how you survive this first gig before I book a second.
January 19, 2009
Tom Chartier [send him mail] played lead guitar in legendary Los Angeles punk band The Rotters for 26 years until their final appearance in January of 2004. He has lived in Tokyo and Los Angeles. Currently he resides somewhere in the Caribbean.