2007-06-26
freelance spy
When I was little, I dreamed of being a movie star when I grew up. As things have turned out, I now have too much education and not enough bulimia to pursue that dream. But my other goal (of becoming a freelance spy who publishes fabricated accounts of political figures on the internet) is still well within reach. Let's talk about my first day on the job.
It was sunny and breezy and a great day for some light hunting. It had only been a few minutes before there was a flapping sound in the trees, and George W. sees his shot and takes it. Oh no! That wasn't a pheasant - it was Iraq! How does he keep mixin those up, he really needs to get those glasses his optometrist talked about. But he decides not to call the police until trained medical technicians can perform an emergency oilectomy. In the meantime he takes aim at a suspiciously Iran-shaped duck.
Later, there's some good golf at Abu Ghraib and the President is working his way across the back nine when his swing goes wide an hits a few dozen of his favorite detainees repeatedly in the head, arms and legs before chainin them to the floor to die of exposure. Oh no! What has he done, how will he ever forgive himself, how come this happens every time he stops by a military prison! But he decides not to call the police on account of this ice cream headache he's got.
So the day wears on and Mr. Bush is kicking back and relaxing with a good old fashioned round of invasion and occupation when he accidentally kills thirty thousand Iraqi civilians. Oh no! It is the worst day of his life, why wasn't it him, oh God, why wasn't it - oh wait, it's just foreigners. Whew, close call! He decides to skip calling the police and heads home to watch a couple of episodes of Law & Order, which is sort of like calling the police if you really stop to think about it.
zebrasaur at 12:02 a.m.
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