Chancellor Bush and His 1000 Points of Light Brigades

My Life, Part 1, by the New Chancellor of the United States
I was born rich, baby, and don't you all forget it. I was the kind of little boy who got what he wanted by throwing what you call in Tennessee, well, er-ah, I know down in Texas we call it, er-ah, a hissy fit. A tantrum, I guess I learned to call it that at Yale. I did go to Yale, too, something you all tend to forget. Skull and Bones, too. My old Pappy got me into Yale; well, I mean, he went there and grandpappy went there and so, hell, I got to go there, too. And damn right I knew John "Scardy Cat" Kerry in Skull and Bones, hell yeah, I did. That pansy. His didn't compare with mine, if you people know what I mean. Heh-heh. Hey, I'm just a good ole boy down deep. You know, I like shitkicker music and damn right, I'll admit it, it's a bit of my old Pappy in me, I like Messkin gals, too, and well, yep, I used to spend a lotta time down on the border, Via Acuna, whooo, I could tell you some stories. Unka Dick used to have a duck blind down there...but I better keep my mouth shut about that. Unka Dick's kind'a got his hand up my ass, so I have to be a good boy about what I say. Sometimes I talk too much. Unka Dick warns me about that a lot. That's why I learned to lie. Just say backwards what I really mean and that way my ass is covered with the Amurican people and with Unka Dick, too.

This thing in Iraq. That wasn't my idea, but when I was told I was gonna have to enact it, you know the whole Neo-Con thing old Dick Perle came up with, what the hell, I had nothing to lose; I couldn't win with my own businesses, one with a Bin Ladin, remember? Perle is one mean son of a bitch, you know. I call him Perilous Dick. He's a smart son of a bitch, too. Iraq was his idea. So was 9/11. Whoaa. I gotta shut up on that subject. Shit. I need a drink. I sneak drinks all the time. Only problem is, I get hangovers like Holy Hell these days, like a couple'a days ago when I had to party with that asshole from Pakistan, that little weasel, and boy howdy can that sucker drink, but I got so drunk the next morning I was depressed enough to shoot myself. But anyway, I drink my ass off, Pickles, too, where the Twins get their drinking abilities, not from me, but I'm getting scared of that depression, man. My old Pappy can drink like a socialite, you know, he's drunk but you can't tell it. 'Cept you remember when he pitched up on the Japanese dude. Boy that was a beautiful move. He was drunk as a Lord! But anyway, let me get on with my story.

This thing in Iraq. God-dammit, I didn't wanna go into Iraq. Unka Dick and Unka Rummy had trumped this up back during my old Pappy's winning Gulf War triumphs. Perle had been working hoodoo on Unka Dick, you know, spinning that shit about taking over the world using the US government's money and army to do it. I was their handpicked dude to carry all this out. Tough shit. I washed my hands of it. I told Unka Dick, OK, I owe you big time, so I'll patsy this thing but dammit if I get a jail sentence staring me in the face for all of this, no way, Jose, I'm not going to no jail for no man's ass. I been busted too many times back when I was young and snortin' and shit, but that's over. I have found God, God-dammit. I can't convince people of that. Pickles laughs at me when I try to pray. She says, "Damn, look how F-ing silly you look down there prayin'. You! You never prayed a day in your life unless it was pleading with Mammy Babs." And then I have to put my foot down with Pickles. You don't talk about Mammy Babs bad around me. Without that prematurely gray mama, I'd a turned out a worthless piece of outlaw shit. She roped my old Pappy in away from them China babes...oh, er-ah, shit, there I go blowing off my mouth again. Whew boy, the stories I could tell you folks.

I'll tell you all the truth. I didn't even know where the hell Iraq was when Unka Dick and Pappy and those guys came to me and told me they was gonna make me governor of Texas. Damn. I really didn't wanna be governor of Texas but Pappy and Unka Dick and Cousin Karl and my blood brother Prince Bandar...you all know my A-rabb brother Towelhead Bandar. That's a joke, folks, that's a joke. Remember old Foghorn Leghorn, that damn chicken in that old cartoon, "That's a joke, son." I jest about with Prince Bandar and Cousin Osama...whoaaaa. I got a put a zipper on some of this shit now. It's too complicated, folks. Goes back to the days of my old Grandpappy Prescott Bush. Man, what a character he was. You didn't mess with Prescott. I loved that scoundrel. What a flim-flammer. We made millions off the Nattzees and pretty slickly, too, slick shit slicker than that Hitler dude's shit--took that Kraut for a cleaning, and some Communist writers and things claimed Grandpappy Prescott was pocketing Nattzee money and that we financed the building of those concentration camps where they roasted all those Jews. Let's see; I should put that a different way, but then I was a business major at Yale, not literary, though I do know some good poems, like "There was an old man from Boston whose balls hung low out his Austin..." You ever heard that phone call old Lyndon Johnson made to his tailor while he was in the White House? Fix 'em so his nutsack don't hang down and cause him pain. Damn, I loved old Lyndon, though my Pappy hated his real Texas ass.

Iraq? Yes, that's a long story. It started way back during Unka Ronnie's administration. I was in the Texas Air National Guard then. That's where I learned how to fly; got my wings so to speak. I used to have a full pilot's uniform, a captain's uniform, with wings and battle ribbons and all I used wear down on the border or at Halloween parties in Houston. Whooo boy the stories I could tell all ya'all. Texas had good drugs back in those days, 'specially around Austin and the University, over at the Armadilla, or out at the Wagon Wheel low-lifin'.

Iraq. I took this war over. To hell with Unka Dick. He got my old Pappy called a wimp; lost him the election when he told Pappy not to go on into Baghdad when my old Pappy was kickin' towelhead ass all over that part of the A-rabb world, moving into Iraq out of Prince Bandar Bush's homeland thanks to our being good friends with the Bin Ladens. That's why Cousin Osama got pissed off, but you all don't remember details like that. Yeah, Osama was pissed when my Pappy took a 100 thousand of our volunteer army troops and jammed 'em right down the heathen throat of that god-dam Sad-dam Whoosane. I got that son of a bitch. Hanged him high! Wish I could have hanged 'em down in Texas when I was governor. One hundred and fifty seven sons of bitches I sent to the state guernsey for a powershot of killer dope! One woman, too; I forgot her. Remember her? Hot damn, she was pleading with me, "Oh please, Governor Bush, I've become a Christian and I want to do good and..." I shut her up. Hell, boys, go ahead and send this bitch to Heaven she's such a good Christian. You see, to leave her here on earth would a been a damn sin, wouldn't it? I'm a Christian now and I firmly believe Jesus X. Christ was looking over my shoulder giving me encouragement when I sent all that foul scum to their deaths down there in Huntsville.

Of course, I'm an Episcopalian, which is the same as getting a free pass to Heaven just because you're F-ing rich.

I am rich in my own right, you all know. I don't need that Iraq oil. And it isn't the oil we're after; Hell, we took that oil over the first day we blew into Baghdad. Those oilfields were secured before the first dog soldier even hit the suburbs of Baghdad. Remember how those Iraqi cowards ran from us? Boy that was a great day in my life. "Mission accomplished!" Wow, I was on top of the world. King of the world. And that's when I first got the idea, my idea, an idea of my own. F those bastards taking over the world; how about if....

To Be Continued
in The Daily Growler