Sweet baby Jesus, you call that the fucking State of the Union? Please. George Lucas writes better monologues for Jar-Jar Binks. You didn’t really think we were going to be sucked in by that load of crap, did you? Try this on for size: the real state of our little union is a mind-bending clusterfuck that would make Ron Jeremy chafe.
Sorry, was that a little too direct for you? You were hoping to conduct politics in a more . . . civil tone? Fuck you. We’re not complete morons out here, you know. We didn’t miss the fact that your minions outed a CIA agent out of spite, or started rumors that McCain had fathered an illegitimate black child, or said that Democrats’ response to 9/11 was to find Al Qaeda a good therapist. And that’s just Karl Rove. How about that Dick you work for telling a senator to go fuck himself right there in the halls of Congress? Tell you what, we’ll put down our guns when you put down yours. Until then, you can stick your civil tone right up your Turd Blossom.
And don’t even try and peddle that nineleven crap – we’ve heard all that shit a million times. “We now know that two of the hijackers in the United States placed calls to Al Qaeda operatives overseas”? Where the fuck have you been? We knew before, asshole. And being vague about how the “government” didn’t connect the dots isn’t gonna help you wriggle out of this little mess. “It is said that prior to the attacks of September 11th, our government failed to connect the dots of the conspiracy”? No, motherfucker, it is said of you that you failed to read the goddamn reports that said, “Here’s a terrifying dot, and here’s another terrifying dot, and there’s this big red line between them, so we might want to do something about that.” When you took over as Commander-in-Chief, did you think your morning briefings would be color-by-numbers?
Whose asshole did you pull Zimbabwe and Burma out of, anyway? Those are the two countries you chose to replace Iraq in the Axis of Mean? First off, we’ll take our lectures on international relations from someone whose pre-Presidential travelogue included countries not featured in Maxim’s Spring Break Spectacular, if it’s all the same to you. And secondly, Zimbabwe? Like you knew that was a country a week ago. The day you spend one minute thinking about the death of democracy in Zimbabwe is the day Dick Cheney climbs a set of stairs without a defibrillator and a forklift.
And we’d take your tough-on-Burma bit a little more seriously if your campaign staff hadn’t ordered its election swag from Myanmar.
But we’re all about ending tyranny in the world now, is that it? No, we don’t dismiss that as “misguided idealism” you smug little shit, we dismiss it as the rantings of someone whose idea of an international dialogue includes asking the President of Brazil if he “has blacks here, too?” Let’s examine your superstars of democracy just a tad more closely, shall we? Egypt? Call us when they stop imprisoning anyone who wants to run against the President. Palestine? Well, we all know how psyched you are about those results. And Saudi Arabia? Good Lord – where to start with Saudi Arabia. The fact that women can’t vote? Or that only half of the local seats are up for election? Or that only one in eight people are even eligible to vote? Or maybe this: it’s a fucking monarchy. Tell you what, come on back when you can get your allies in the War on Terror to stop burning children for not following the dress code, and we’ll talk about your bullshit idealism.
Then there’s your favorite son: Iraq. Better put a basket over that shining example on a hill before someone starts firing grenades at it. Exactly where, in your “clear plan for victory,” is the bit about losing track of seventy-five percent of the reconstruction money? Those Iraqis must be fucking thrilled that instead of building roads we’re betting the limit at the blackjack table in Manila. But the Iraqi forces are getting ready to stand up so we can sit down, or some shit like that? Maybe they’d pick up the pace if we gave them something other than second-rate equipment? It’s a good thing that story will never get out, because no American journalists would be brave enough to travel around in those tin cans you call armored vehicles. Oops. Better pray that guy never gets back to the anchor desk. But at least they’ve had elections in Iraq, so everything’s gonna be fun and flowers. So glad you noticed that their fingers are purple. Did you check to see which one they were showing you?
I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but the problem isn’t the “defeatism,” it’s the fucking defeat. You can keep throwing our kids into that meat-grinder, or you can listen to your own State Department officials when they tell you that all we’re doing is making things worse. Saying that anyone who’s not behind you all the way wants to leave Iraq to the evildoers might go over well when you’re preaching to those sheep your advance team keeps rounding up, but those of us over here in the real world are just asking this: let’s stop tossing our kids into this inferno and instead start actually listening to some of the people whose experience in the Middle East extends beyond a photo-op visit to the Green Zone.
And speaking of the military, that line about commanders getting to tell you how many troops they need might be wearing a little thin. Planning on pulling a division or two out of your ass? Maybe you missed that day in flight training, but the line of command starts with you, asshole, so when you say, “A couple dozen soldiers can totally handle the security for northern Iraq,” well, there’s not really shit they can do. Well, there is, but if they do speak up, you drum their asses out of town.
Tell you what, next troop rotation, let’s send Rummy over there with the body armor he has, not the body armor he wants, and while he’s dodging roadside bombs, his buddies can quiz him on why in his last job he sold nuclear reactors to North Korea. You remember North Korea, right? You’ll find it in the seventh paragraph of this milquetoast piece of shit you’re calling a speech this year. See also: Axis of Evil, or We’re Fucked If They Build a Bomb.
But soon we’ll be weaning ourselves off the oil teat, so all that chaos in the Middle East won’t be quite so scary, hmmm? Forgive us if we can’t keep a straight face while an alcoholic oil man scolds us for being “addicted” to foreign crude. Tell us, Mister Future Man, when technology comes to our rescue and we’re all driving solar-powered Humvees through the cornfields that keep our electric toilet seats warm, will we have figured out what to do with the huge piles of nuclear waste we’ve got stored in unsecured locations around the country? No? Then maybe we could put off creating more atomic employment opportunities for Homer Simpson until we nip that little problem in the ass.
Ah, the future. Brought to us by all the smarties we’re gonna educate in those Intelligent Design biology classes you’ve endorsed. I’m thinking “and then a miracle happened” might not be the answer Microsoft is looking for on its application quiz, but it’s definitely the only way we’re gonna get those little shavers through middle school.
Just how does that fit into your little plan to keep America competitive? Somewhere near your strategy to get us all on those fancy Health Savings Accounts, I bet. Those are the ones where we save piles of cash on our heath care bills when we’re not sick, right? That sounds great, except when you consider that there are huge numbers of us who, sooner or later, are going to want to buy ourselves a rectal exam. Ok, not want, but you know what I mean. And when you want to buy a whole bunch of stuff cheap, do you go to the corner store? No, you go to fucking Wal-Mart, and you buy in bulk. This plan has each of us paying a doctor to stick just one finger up our ass, but what we need is, like, a big ol’ organization that can buy lots and lots of finger-up-the-ass-ograms, and then we can all buy into it and get our assholes stretched at a bargain rate. It’d be a way of insuring that we get good, cheap health care. We could call it health insurance. I bet everyone would want some of that.
Or, we could pretend that people who aren’t doctors can figure out what is necessary care and what’s frivolous on their own. Yeah, fuck it, that’s a much better idea.
And one more thing: once you’re done congratulating yourself on all the help you’re sending down to New Orleans, do you think we could look for the 3,000 people who are still missing? They haven’t been “excluded from the promise of this country” or whatever cliché your speechwriters have decided will pass for down home empathy this week, they’re fucking dead. Spare us the “history is turning in a wide arc” and the “freedom is on the march” bullshit. When we need trite crap to soothe our savage souls, we’ll kidnap Celine Dion.
Tell you what, if you’ll quit hiding health benefits from vets and telling their families that they should laugh their troubles away, we’ll promise to put a stop to those man/chicken hybrid experiments. Deal? Good. Now run along home to your bubble, boy. The grown-ups have to figure out how we’re gonna fix this fucking mess you made.