Seems like only yesterday that Dubya was out of the fire and into the coals but he's been out of office since 2008!
Now we have Donald Trump threatening Dubya's legacy as the most baffling president of all time. What will happen?
Table of Contents
- First Hunnerd Days
- The Test
- The Scandal of N. Ron
- Let's Roll!
- Back at The Ranch...
- 2002--A Very Good Year
- Road To Baghdad
- Mission Accomplished
- Loosening up
- Say Ahhhh....
- Political Season
- Early Returns
- Adbul Grub
- The Debates
- 'Lection Day
- Political Capital
- Summer of Flood
"The Ballad" was featured on Pacifica Radio's "Beneath The Surface." Click here to listen (.mp3 700K)
The Ballad of The Bush Leagues, Chapter 1
The First Hunnerd Days
Today we begin a historic time
The "elect" is removed from The President.
All balls, they are finished, the trash swept away,
George Bush is the New Oval Resident.
"We've seen this before," the people all say,
Their leader the fortunate son
Of a Bush that once burned 'til the public did spurn
The soldier who wore out his Ray Gunn.
Dubya's his name and many do fear
His ascendance presages our doom.
What country are we whose master shall be
He who can't even double his U?
The question unanswered, my people move forth,
Our ruler so affably postured.
He names quite a mob to manage his job
And bolster the image he's fostered.
Baker The Steady, a vet'ran Bush keeper
And The Chao Who Would be a Chavez,
Squeezable Cheney (some call him The Smarter),
And a George who they still call The Prez.
Dead-beaten Ashcroft, The Mighty C. Colin and
Norton, who lobbies Republican.
Ms. Rice who plays nice despite veins of ice;
Rumsfeld takes charge of the weapons
All these advisors they put him together,
The cleanest that money could buy.
A baseball farmer, a Southern charmer
This boy, we think he'll do fine.
He dives right into religion,
Blurring church and the state just a smidgen.
He's working to cut all our taxes
Though we still have to pay what he axes.
He warms our cold earth with emissions,
Cuz reduction would damage The Business,
As would making workplaces safer
For atrophied slaves of the wafer.
George has settled in alright
With a stealthy eradication
Of everything 'twas left by Bill
To corrupt our godly nation.
Freshly cleansed of sin,
The Office he never did win
Is ready for ruling (and occasional drooling)
A world that might turn at his whim.
Of course, it's not so grim–
Just take a look at him–
He's really kind of cute...
Hey, what's this on the news?
Something's up in China...
A spy plane crashed offshore
And with it everything we need to
Know in case of war.
I wish we had it now. For the
Current altercation, over
Prisoners and justice and
Might prove too much to bear
For Bush's rightful heir;
If he flusters with great muster
Everyone will get a share.
But enough of this overreaction.
Give credit where credit is due:
Raise a glass to the boys who protect us
From missionaries flying in Cessnas!
An appropriate way to sign, seal, deliver
The first hunnerd days of G-Dub.
One hunnerd and one has a new theme:
The threat we all face from above
From the rogues who would threaten our peace,
From the great continent of the East,
From Sadaam the terrible beast,
Afghanistan, not least;
The very same country George W. just granted
One million times forty and three
Worth of aid for the war on The Hairoyn Drugs,
"The growing of poppies must cease."
A little agreement to buy more cement,
To fund Taliban oppression.
Some money for they who fear women might stray
Or worse get to vote in elections.
But Dubya knows what he's doing.
He thinks about this late at night...
"We have to befriend those who no longer meet
With the U.N. re human rights.
"And what about the energy?
We've got a crisis," he says.
"If our policy fails, we might get blackmailed
Or worse, face the nuculer threat.
"Explore or conserve... what's the right word?
Efficiency might be the key...
Whatever I say should increase my payday
Cuz there's oil in them there hills yet.
"And there's oil in Alaska, can't you all see?
Liquid gold for you and me!
Our nation's survival froze beneath the sea,
It could provide fuel for days...
at least two or three."
Again, Dubya's wisdom prevails.
Alaska will cough up its prize.
He's good at this President business,
But the bags do obscure his eyes.
"This president job is a mother.
I need a vacation right quick.
I think a soft month would do me some good,
Get my thinking back straight in my head."
So Dubya retreats to Texas
And the country continues to function;
The markets keep on workin',
Leaders still lunch over luncheon.
Happy-ranch time is soon over;
George comes back to Wash'nton DC.
He smiles at the all-over whiteness and says,
"Y'all have to answer to me."
I hope his retreat did the trick;
I hope it left him well rested.
The future is sure to make many demands
Of the powers in which he is vested.