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George W Bush, President

Wednesday, October 13, 2004

I know black people

Tonight, at the debate, Carry said that I never met with the NWPCAA or the Congressman Black Cockus (he, he, cockus--why do they call themselves that?). Of course I denied it right away and then after the debate, I asked Mr. Rove if it was true.

He said, "remember those really old basketball players that came to visit you?" I said I didm and he said that was the Congressman Black Cockus. Then I remembered everything.

They kept calling me up and saying that they wanted to talk to me about hatey. I didn't want to talk to them because they were black men--some with funny foreign names--and they must be pretty mad if they were going to come over and hate me. I was scared even though I knew I could beat them up.

Anyway, they wouldn't take no for an answer. One day they all got on a bus and drove to my house and forced there way in. I told the secret policemen to shoot them, but Mr. Rove said "no, that would cause problems--you have to meet with them since they're here. So I invited them into my oboe office to talk. I told them that I was a big basketball fan so that they wouldn't try to kill me and than I said they must be pretty tough to still be playing basketball at their age. That seemed to piss them off, because they started to talk about hatey. After awhile, I tried to calm them down by saying that I thought it would be cool to have a really big thingy because girls would like that. That seemed to make them really mad, and then they left. I think I scared them by being resoloot.

I bought all new toilet seats after they left. You can't be too caeful.

Sunday, October 10, 2004

Being President is Hard Work

I don't like these debate things. Everybody's always telling me how to act at them. They even took away my Ny-Quil about a week before the first one. That made me all shaky, and I started to see giant spiders in my room. And they didn't have spider heads neither. Instead, they all had Uncle Dick's head on their bodies, and they were saying they were going to interrogate me by putting glow sticks in my butt.

Mr. Rove said I couldn't debate if I kept seeing the spiders, so they gave me my Ny-Quil back. I stopped shaking and seeing spiders after that.

They brought me a a little juice glass full of Ny-Quil before the first debate and said that it was all I could drink. Then they stuck a thing in my ear that made it so Mr. Rove could talk to me in my head. That made Jesus mad, because He likes to have my head to himself. He told me to ignore Mr. Rove, but I said that would get me in trouble. Then, Jesus told me to go and have a few hits off of my Ny-Quil bong, and I wouldn't care anymore. He was right.

I couldn't understand all the big words Mr. Kerry was saying in the first debate. Mr. Rove kept trying to help me, but Jesus started to sing "Jesus wants me to be a Sunbeam" really loud, and I couldn't understand what Mr. Rove was saying. That made me kind of mad, and I guess it showed. Everybody yelled at me afterward, and said that I was drunk.

They let me use my nose medicine for the next debate, and they promised not to arrest me this time for using it. Mr. Limbaugh said that combined with the Ny-Quil, it would keep me on an even keel. He knows a lot about medicine--he's like a doctor or something. There was a problem though. Uncle Dick found my Ny-Quil bong after the first debate and confiscated it. All I got was a little glass, the balance between Ny-Quil and nose medicine this time was way off.

That said, this time was stil a little better, because Jesus was mad at me for touching Barney the way Sen. Santorum taught me and didn't talk to me except for that time he told me to kill Charley Gibson. Mr Rove stopped me just in time.

I got really angry a lot during that debate. Once, Mr. Kerry tried to embarrass me my saying that I had wood. That was a lie. I haven't had wood in years--Laura says it's because of all the Ny-Quil and nose medicine.

There's one more debate coming up. I don't want to do it. Maybe, they'll let my man-secretary, Mr. Rumsfeld, do it for me. I sure hope so.