George W. Bush must be getting on people’s last nerve.
Cedric Ward of Athol, Idaho, writes:
If you shaved George W. Bush’s head
and didn’t find 666, you would at least find 665 and 3/4s.
And then he adds:
Keep it up until the bastards are
hanging from the cherry trees in D.C.
Thanks for writing, Cedric. But let’s not make a bad situation worse by rushing things, as former British ambassador to D.C. Sir Christopher Meyer pointed out the Bush regime did in its unjustified invasion of Iraq.
Timing is everything. If we want to be able to see the bastards swing, we have to do it either before or after those famous cherry trees bloom. We want to enjoy next year’s National Cherry Blossom Festival, which is March 25 through April 9, so that third anniversary of the Iraq invasion is out for such a celebratory bloodbath.
This will take some time. With all the lying going on, we’re not yet sure exactly who to blame for exactly which part of the scandalous behavior that radiates from the Bush regime.
We can, however, blame Parson Mason Weems for starting the lie that George Washington confessed to chopping down a cherry tree by telling his dad, “I cannot tell a lie. I did it with my little hatchet.”
Lies about lies. A grand tradition in D.C.
On Sunday, I finally got around to posting the following letter from Kane Licari that tried to cut me down to size:
I shouldn’t have to remind Licari that I’m even worse than a liberal; I’m a journalist. But Anonymous Reader, though she fears acrimony, got my back anyway, promptly riposting:
And she added this postscript:
I did write the description above of what conservative has come to mean today.
You might tell Kane that I wrote it in under ten minutes. (Yes, it’s true.) Be sure to tell him I’m a woman, as he no doubt considers himself superior to women.
(Please do not post my name; too many right-wing nuts have
been known to stalk liberals.)
Bush Beat is great — keep it up!
Thanks for writing, you whose name I know but will never reveal.
Also riposting was Mary Marschall, with this:
Thanks for writing, Mary. The first part of your riff puts Fela Anikulapo-Kuti‘s riddim in my head, and that’s always a good thing.
The mid-’70s masterpiece — one of many from a guy who was jailed, beaten, and tortured for activist lyrics urging people to speak up — goes like this:
Some dey follow follow, dem close dem mouth.
Some dey follow follow, dem close dem ear.
Some dey follow follow, dem close dem sense.
You can’t help dancing to Fela’s Afrobeat, like at L.A.’s Fela Kuti Day (the third annual one was this past October 29).
I don’t mean the kind of dancing that our soldiers made Iraqis do at Abu Ghraib or Camp Mercury. Nor do I mean the absurd Bush puppet show wherein Dick Cheney, our chief lobbyist for torture, yanks on the POTUS’s strings until even the audience starts hurting. I mean the kind of dancing that sets you free. Unless you keep your mouth shut.