The State of the Union?

One word: "It kicks ass!"

I'm sorely tempted to heap up the adjectives, but why bother? This was warmed over turkey dinner. From 2003.

We can disagree...as long as you capitulate with everything I say.

I want to compromise...as long it's only you who gives anything up.

We can debate...but you are forbidden from bringing up the inconvenient fact of my five years of lies, incompetence and serial reckless fuckuppery.

I want to keep this civil...as long as my racist, Christopathic Party gets to continue to march unmolested under Karl Rove's banner and keep calling you cowards and traitors for political advantage.

Ignore everything we have said and done and not done for the last twenty years -- and in the last twenty minutes -- and bend over.



Well I guess I'm just an uncivil isolationist to point out that if you meant a single, fucking word of what you said, Mr. President -- if you had as much as a thimbleful of integrity -- you would fire that ratfucker Rove.

Tomorrow. 8:00 a.m.

Period.

Because I can't take the "Trust me" gospel too seriously from a man with blood on his teeth and Karl Rove still by his side and running his White House, instead of behind chicken-wire and trading cigarettes to get the good trailer and his hair done up real purdy for his conjugal visits from Jeff Gannon.

This is the bitter and divided world you and your minions created, Mr. President. And you did it deliberately, calculatedly and with premeditation.

On September 11, 2001, without earning or deserving it, you were handed a Truly United States of America. And for tawdry, partisan motives you and Karl and the rest of your Shitkicker Mafia decided to drive a venomous wedge straight through its heart without any regard of the poison you were unleashing into the body politic.

Congratulations; you have reaped what you have sown, and if you want anyone but your tailor and bootblack to believe that you're sincere about cleaning up the mess you made, it falls to you make a show of good faith.

So fire the fucker. Or shut the fuck up.

Because in the Dubya Era a person can be a Good American, or a Good Republican, but they can no longer be both.

And that, Mr. President, is quite obviously the world you wanted all along.