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George W Bush, President

Friday, April 25, 2003

I don't want Sen. Santorum to visit us any more

He's always touching my dog in funny places. He says Lou likes it -- I named my dog after Lou Dobbs because he likes to lick my face. Mr. Dobbs doesn't try to lick my face, but he really really likes me. He comes over all the time and punches me in the arm and asks if he can watch cartoons with me.

Anyway, Sen. Santorum is always kind of petting my dog, Lou, in funny places. It gets Lou all excited and he jumps on the Senator's leg and really goes to town. Me and Mr. Dobbs always laugh and punch each other in the arms when he does it, because it's very very very funny. It's like Lou the dog thinks that the Senator's leg is a girls dog or something.

Then I heard that Sen. Santorum likes to talk about men having sex with dogs. He calls it "man on dog." I guess he likes to talk about it with lady reporters. That's kind of weird if you ask me. The lady reporters don't like it. One of them said, "I'm sorry, I didn't think I was going to talk about "man on dog" with a United States senator, it's sort of freaking me out."

It freaks me out too.

Mr. Rove says that I'm not supposed to say anything bad about Sen. Santorum, so I've been defending him against the people who think that it shouldn't be a crime to be a homosexual. Still, I think playing with a dogs thingy might be worse. It's almost as bad as when Clinton put his thingy in ladies' mouths. They made him eat peaches for doing that.

Saturday, April 12, 2003

What about the Potamians?

Everybody at the President's House is talking about a new government in Iraqistan. Mr. Powell, who is our man secretary of the state (but not Jeb's state), is always worrying about Soonies and Kurds, and Sheeites and Turkeymen and how hard it will be to get them all to support whoever we appoint to be their democratically selected leader (I say we should appoint a Republican leader but everyone pretends not to hear me). Mr. Cheney says that we should just dress Mr. Wolfowitz up as an Arab and make him a leader. Mr. Rumsfeld likes that idea a lot, so that might be what happens.

What I'm wondering about is the Potamians. Mr. Cheney is always saying there is a whole mess of Potamians in Iraqistan, but I don't hear anybody worrying about them. That makes me wonder if they might be white Christian men. Pastor Robertson says that the white Christian man is the most discriminated against person there is. He's right about that.

Colored people are gifted and get all the breaks. Mr. Delay says they took all the Army slots in Vietnam so that he and Mr. Quayle couldn't go. And don't even talk about the entertainment industry. They give all the good prostitute, drug dealer, and pimp parts to the coloreds.

No wonder Mr. Wolfowitz needs to dress up as an Arab to be appointed as Iraqistan's democratically selected leader.

Tuesday, April 08, 2003

Hey, Iraq is a whole nother country!

Why didn't anyone brief me on this?

Friday, April 04, 2003

Today I learned that "vernal eqinox"is not a disease

A couple of weeks ago, a visitor to the president's house told me it was vernal equinox day. I told her that I didn't know they had a day for it, but that penicillin clears it right up. I said that I use to get it all the time when I was training to be a National Guard fighter pilot during the Vietnam War. My job was to stay home and defend the Empire State Building against the Viet Kong King--he took a white woman up there during WWI. They made a documentary about it a few years ago. The king never attacked while I was on duty, so I got tired after awhile and went home.

Anyway, today, I was reading my favorite newspaper, and I learned that vernal equinox is not a disease. It's the day the robins return. You can sure learn a lot from reading.

Wednesday, April 02, 2003

Mr Cheney has a blog too

He posts from an undisguised location.

Tuesday, April 01, 2003

Mr. and Mrs Cheney do scary things

Somebody told Mr. Rove about my NyQuil bong and he took it away. I think one of you people snitched. I'm not going to write stuff here anymore if you tattle on me. So stop it.

Last night, I went down in the tunnels to drink my NyQuil without my bong. The tunnels are cool. They connect the president's house to all of the other important buildings in Washington like the Space Needle. There are little golf-cart-like thingies down there that you can use to drive from place to place. I like to drink my NyQuil while I drive around exploring the tunnels.

Anyway, last night, I was sitting in one of the golf cart thingies drinking my NyQuil when I heard this awful bellowing in the distance. It sounded like a heifer in distress. I decided to check it out.

The bellowing seemed to be coming from the tunnel to Mr. Cheney's house so I headed that way. Sure enough, the closer I got, the louder it became, and as I pulled up beneath the house, it was obvious that it was the source.

I climbed up the stairs until I came to introspection of a bunch of different hallways. The sound seemed to be coming from the hall marked bedroom, so I went that way. I slowly squeezed through a door at the end of the hall and found myself in a closet.

I could now make out words between the bellows. Mr Cheney sounded like he was in pain. He was kind of moaning the words, "deeeeeeper, Lynne, deeeeeper."

I could partially see Mrs Cheney through a crack in the door to the bedroom. SHE WAS NAKED! I wanted to see more, so I tried to crack the door open a little bit further. In in my excitement, I moved too fast, tangling my feet up in one of Mr Cheney's kimonos and tumbling through the doorway and into the bedroom. I was met with the most horrible sight I've ever seen. Mrs Cheney had her arm in Mr Cheney's rear-end clear up to the elbow.

I started to scream. I screamed and screamed for what must have been at least twenty minutes. Mrs. Cheney pulled her arm out of Mr, Cheney and tried to comfort me with a hug. That just made me scream more. Her arm was all slick and stinky. It was horrible. I'm crying right now just thinking about it.

Finally, someone handed me a bottle of Wild Turkey and after a few swigs I was able to calm down a little bit. Mr Cheney was screaming at me. He kept yelling: "See the butter. I was like Brando. You see the butter don't you?" Sure enough, there was a bunch of cubes of "I can't Believe it's not Butter" spread out on the floor around Mr. Cheney, but I didn't understand what he meant. He just kept screaming about Brando and butter.

Finally, Mrs. Cheney kicked him really hard in the jaw, knocking him out. She then explained things. It was a fundraiser. I hadn't noticed until then that there were a bunch of men sitting in folding chairs around the room. Each one wore a name tag with a picture of an oil derrick and the words "Hi, my name is ..." printed on it. According to Mrs Cheney, they were all in town for an oil industry convention. The Cheneys decided to raise money for our next campaign by by charging them to watch the couple perform scenes from the Marlon Brando movie, "Last Tango in Paris."

It still seemed kind of weird to me, especially since General Ashcroft had recently given me one of those "special gifts" talks about sex and stuff. I told Mrs. Cheney that, and said I'd have to ask General Ashcroft about it. She just laughed and looked toward the back of the room. General Ashcroft was there, holding a pair of binoculars. He yelled out to us that he had asked Jesus about it and that Jesus said it was OK, because the money would be used to re-elect me and then I could give more money to faith-based programs.

I guess I can't argue with Jesus, but I'm still a bit scared of Mr. and Mrs. Cheney. Whatever you do, don't let her touch you.

Gen. JC Christian is going to Iraq

Mr and Mrs. Cheney are going to give him a job .