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PRESIDENT THREATENED BY FREE TIME!
by: Max Burbank

I donít know. Itís probably me. I mean, we all deserve to kick back, right? Itís not like after a hard day I donít like to put my feet up and watch TV. But Iím just a stupid little Internet Comedian. All I need to do is keep from getting fired at my real job, churn out my smug little essays on a semi regular basis, make the kids lunch for school the next day, brush their teeth and tuck Ďem in and Ďforgetí to mop the kitchen floor no matter how many times my wife begs me to do it. Itís not so much that I feel guilty watching Buffy as long as I donít dress like her while I watch it. I mean hell, I can keep one New Yearís resolution, I guess.

But Iím not as pressed for time as some people. I mean, Iím lucky enough that I donít yet have to work two jobs. Iím not a Doctor or Lawyer or guy having an affair,
constantly forced to work late. Itís not as if Iím, oh, I donít know, the LEADER OF THE FREE WORLD!

When I heard the news that George W. "Ah likes them Hee-Haw girls" Bush passed out while chowing pretzels and catching a little football with the dogs, I did not, as some of my more astute friends did, assume he was drunk. True, the abrasions on his alleged face look more like the kind you get falling off the wagon than falling off the couch, but my mind was stuck on other matters.

The Twisted Face Of Terrorism
Note to terrorists:
Do not crash planes in our country.
If you want to do some real damage: SEND PRETZELS.

Weíre at war. Our great nation is threatened by terrorism. The economy is in recession. Our surplus has vanished. The unemployment rate soars. Tendrils of the largest corporate bankruptcy in US history reach to his very door. And somehowÖ Somehow, our commander in chief, our sort of elected leader, finds the time to watch Baltimore VS Miami with a couple of Dogs! Doesnít this guy have anything to do? Wasnít he supposed to be WORKING?!

Okay, okay, I know heís fictional, but does Martin Sheen ever seem to get quality time with some dogs, the boob tube and a bowl of snacks? No! He seems to be WORKING!

"My mother always said, 'When you're eating pretzels, chew before you swallow.í Always listen to your mother." Says our Commander in Chief. Didnít his mother have any advice about WORKING or did she confine herself to trying and failing to teach her son to chew?

I mean, maybe Iím overreacting, but donít you have to be just about as bone simple as a baboon with head trauma to be the President of the United States of America during critical times like these and be able to let it all go and watch a bunch of overpaid, steroid fueled, glandular freaks in spandex run up and down a field? And doesnít this man have any friends?

"I hit the deck," Bush said in recounting for reporters how, alone in a room with his dogs, he had passed out while watching a football game on television. "Woke up and there was Barney and Spot showing a lot of concern." Now, I wonít quibble about Ďwasí versus Ďwereí when speaking of more than one dog. This is, after all, a very busy man under and awful lot of pressure with a head injury, a feinting disorder and according to my
friend George, a hangover. I think that last bit is Ďventuring into the land of conjectureí as Ari Fleischer recently said our president does not do, but believe me,
when George talks about hangovers, itís expert testimony. And though I am by no means saying Dubya is visiting his ĎOld Grandadí for a little ĎSouthern Comfortí, I will say this. Drinking alone is bad. Drinking with Dogs is worse.

"Whitehouse spokesmen said Bush believes he was out only for a few seconds because when  he awoke, his two dogs were sitting in the same position they were when he lost consciousness." I use a clock or watch to gauge time myself, and not the relative position of dogs, but then Iím a City Boy, a Yankee and a Jew. Mechanical time keeping devices are probably too new fangled for our homespun President.

Should a man like this be left totally alone in the presence of pretzels? Iím a little out of date on my first aid, but Iím pretty sure Dogs canít do the Heimlich Maneuver. Imagine if the Secret Service had found him dead, a seemingly harmless Mister Salty
lodged in the executive gullet? Why, the unimaginable would have happened. I canít even picture Dick Cheney running this country. Heíd have to give up duck hunting and heart attacks and getting together with his oil buddies for forcible group sex with the Nationís economy.

Didnít anybody need the President in his moment of peril? Wasnít there anything he had to sign, or read or be briefed on? Is the machinery of state so well greased that we donít really need George that much? Because this is a time of belt tightening and cut backs. This guy's got a salary, company cars, big plane, a nice house. It occurs to me if heís got time to watch football, maybe we could cut him back to part time, or even replace him with a Temp. I mean, you know, at least until things start looking up.

note: Max Burbank isn't even allowed to eat applesauce without supervision. Not because he could choke on it, but because he'll "spike" just about anything that he can eat or drink.


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