Doggone dams! Used to be the only leaks we had to worry about around here were people talkin’ to the damn press. Well, maybe they are. Maybe that’s why I’m gettin’ so much bad publicity. I’ll have to ask Turdblossom: Is our flunkies leakin’?
Look at this headline: “Cheney in Disaster Zone” Does that mean he’s here or in New Orleans? What the hell’s he doin’ in New Orleans anyway — showin’ ’em all how he walks on water? What’s he doin’ in a dangerous place? Doesn’t he have other priorities?
An’ what’s he gonna do, tell ’em all that his heart goes out to ’em? Hell, I already said that. An’ his heart’s barely keepin’ him alive, what the hell good’s it gonna do the people o’ Louisiana?
Not enough I have to deal with wars and floods, I got these jackasses in the press nippin’ at my heels. Wantin’ to know if I’m wearin’ a new wristband now, one that says WWND — What Would Noah Do? Smart asses!
Even the conservative press is turnin’ against me. The Dallas Mornin’ News, for God’s sake! An’ the Union Leader, way up there in New Hampshire. (What the hell do they know about hurricanes?) They think I didn’t do too good a job in dealin’ with this disaster. Funny, they’ve never bitched about our disaster in Iraq. But I guess the Gulf o’ Mexico’s a little closer to home. In our hemisphere, right off our shores. Well, hell, people think I don’t know that? How dumb do they think I am? (I’ll have to ask Turdblossom.)
So I take too much vacation, do I? Hell, do they think I haven’t noticed that the ones that’s bitchin’ most about me bein’ away from this damn office is the same ones that didn’t want me here in the first place? It’s like complainin’ that the food is awful an’ then bitchin’ that the portions is too small! What hell do they want from me, anyway?
Hell, they’re even’ dumpin’ on my man, Brownie, who’s been doin’ a hell of a job at FEMA. Even’ makin’ fun o’ him an’ those Arabian horses. Well, if he can get some horses from the Arabians after all we been doin’ for the Middle East, I say more power to ‘im. An’ if the man knows horses, then FEMA’s as good a place as any for ‘im. He’d be overqualified for a job in communications, dealin’ with the White House press corps. That’s only one end of a damn horse.
I’ll have to have somebody check my schedule an’ see if we can’t arrange a ceremony o’ some kind where I can give a medal or somethin’ to Brownie for his meritorious service under very trying damn circumstances. It’s the least I can do. Hell, I gave medals to Tenet an’ some o’ those other smart guys that got me into "Operation Watch My Cakewalk." Maybe I can find another job for Brownie if the heat gets too much for ‘im at FEMA. Maybe somethin’ll open up after Wolfie gets through stickin’ it to the world over there at the World Bank.
I hate all this partisan finger-pointin’ an’ accusation stuff. I hate it even more when they hurl that word "accountability" at me. Accountabilities is for schools an’ teachers an’ stuff. I’ll have to tell Turdblossom to get the word out: No one is to use that word during this time of "no finger-pointing." No accountability until further notice.
Isn’t there some way we can blame this Katrina thing on Dan Rather? Where is Turdblossom, anyway?
Never mind. At least we’re showin’ the country what it means to be a compassionate conservative. ‘Cause we just got the Congress to approve $518 billion in disaster relief an’ that’s a lot o’ doggone compassion. I’m sure some of it’s invested in pork barrels an’ things that’ll pay dividends at election time. An’ when we run out o’ money an compassion an’ stuff, we’ll return to those bedrock Republican principles an’ remind the people that all they need is a little pluck an’ determination an’ self-reliance an’ they can pick theirselves up by their own soggy bootstraps an’ walk on water, like the vice president.
‘Cause stuff happens, like Rummy said, an’ we’re ready to deal with it. ‘Cause you go to hurricanes with the preparation you’ve got, not the plans ya didn’t make. Death encourages a depressing view of war and other government disasters, but ya gotta stay the course an’ see it through. So we’re not pullin’ outta New Orleans until the people there can defend themselves. As the New Orleansians stand up, we will stand down. But isolation an’ retreat will not abate the flood nor keep our powder dry. An’ there’s no point lookin’ for a smokin’ gun, ’cause it could be a mushroom-shaped cloud an’ our country will stay the course, because we’re Americans and the flag still stands for freedom an’ — wait a minute!
I think somebody’s callin’ me. It could be Turdblossom. Or maybe the vice president. Whatever. They’re callin’ for the president an’ I’m the president.
Gotta go!
Manchester, NH, resident Jack Kenny [send him mail] is a freelance writer.
