|
I don’t know. It’s probably me. I mean, we all deserve to kick
back, right? It’s not like after a hard day I don’t like to put
my feet up and watch TV. But I’m 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 ‘em in and ‘forget’ to mop the kitchen floor no matter
how many times my wife begs me to do it. It’s not so much that I
feel guilty watching Buffy as long as I don’t dress like her
while I watch it. I mean hell, I can keep one New Year’s
resolution, I guess.
But I’m not as pressed for time as some people. I mean, I’m
lucky enough that I don’t yet have to work two jobs. I’m not a
Doctor or Lawyer or guy having an affair,
constantly forced to work late. It’s not as if I’m, oh, I don’t
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.
Note to terrorists:
Do not crash planes in our country.
If you want to do some real damage: SEND PRETZELS.
We’re 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 somehow…
Somehow, our commander in chief, our sort of elected leader,
finds the time to watch Baltimore VS Miami with a couple of
Dogs! Doesn’t this guy have anything to do? Wasn’t he supposed
to be WORKING?!
Okay, okay, I know he’s 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.’ Always listen to your mother." Says our
Commander in Chief. Didn’t 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 I’m overreacting, but don’t 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 doesn’t 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 won’t quibble about ‘was’
versus ‘were’ 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 ‘venturing
into the land of conjecture’ as Ari Fleischer recently said our
president does not do, but believe me,
when George talks about hangovers, it’s expert testimony. And
though I am by no means saying Dubya is visiting his ‘Old
Grandad’ for a little ‘Southern Comfort’, 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 I’m 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? I’m a little out of date on my first aid, but I’m
pretty sure Dogs can’t 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 can’t even picture Dick Cheney running this country.
He’d have to give up duck hunting and heart attacks and getting
together with his oil buddies for forcible group sex with the
Nation’s economy.
Didn’t anybody need the President in his moment of peril? Wasn’t
there anything he had to sign, or read or be briefed on? Is the
machinery of state so well greased that we don’t 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 he’s 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.
|
