As Wo’C reader David E. predicted, the hankies are coming out now, as wingnuts begin to seriously contemplate a life without George the Bush, and struggle to put their febrile mancrushes, and ill-disguised cravings for dominance into awkward and hilariously passionate words. First up, we have a holiday-themed mash note from the moist and aching void of Katherine Jean Lopez…
It’s Christmastime, which means I’ve had a chance to shake hands with President George W. Bush for the last time before Barack Obama succeeds him.
“It was also my last chance to watch as he tenderly withdrew his hand from mine, then squeezed a dog turd-sized dollop of Purell into his palm and rubbed away my lingering foulness…”
The peaceful succession process is a beautiful thing, even when it means I won’t be invited to next year’s Christmas party. That’s more than fine, especially because I received a great gift from the president this year — more proof of his moral leadership.
Sadly, when K-Lo turned it over and read the label, she realized it was actually Gordon Brown’s moral leadership, and Bush had just regifted it.
He’s had his flaws, of course, but he’s always led with an ear to his conscience and his heart
Say what you want about the guy — he’s limber as a Cirque du Soleil self-fellationist.
…consumed with the burden of not only protecting and defending but also loving the people who are so integral to what America is, has been and will be — and whose lives are directly and dramatically changed by decisions he makes.
You know, if it’s really that big a burden for Bush to love me, maybe we should just be friends.
A friend of mine told the president that night about how grateful she feels toward him. She’s the mother of an Iraq War veteran — one of those countless, intensely proud moms who prayed and worried about their children overseas. When she finally welcomed him back home, she knew he had seen and done things from which any mother would want to protect her son.
Thanks, George Bush!
If anything can help a mom in that situation besides faith, it’s knowing that her commander in chief takes his responsibility deadly seriously.
Wait…Mom is in the military, too? Are we so desperate for cannon fodder now that we’ve nationalized America’s mothers so we can draft their progeny fresh and steaming from the womb?
And that’s a fact the troops on the ground know — even when others in Washington shamelessly decried the war effort, the commander and sometimes even the troops.
When Bush lengthened the tour of duty in Iraq from 12 to 15 months, you can imagine how the troops must have paused to say, “What a relief! For awhile there I was afraid he might not be deadly serious. Oh, and look — my MRE came with a prize inside! It’s a piece’a moral leadership…”
Still, I can’t imagine the pain and worry suffered by the troops and their families.
“That’s why I sleep like a baby every night. A crappy imagination is as good as a clean conscience!”
I haven’t experienced the sacrifice firsthand. But I sure do give thanks for all those who shed blood for the rest of us.
Golly, I’m just pleased as punch about that bloodshed there.
And I sure am grateful for a president who fully appreciates that sacrifice and who fully understands his pivotal role in war, peace, stewardship and leadership.
Let’s not forget receivership.
Every time I’ve ever seen the president over these past eight years, he’s managed to talk about the keepers of the flame of freedom.
Yeah, we’ll I’ve collected the complete Challengers of the Unknown, but I don’t feel the need to bore everybody talking about it.
Every time I’ve seen him give an address to military audiences, I’ve seen in the crowd a great respect for him and our country — a real enthusiasm informed by experience.
That’s funny, because it seems like the more people experience Bush, the less respect and enthusiasm they seem to display. Maybe faking affection for Bush is one of those military hazing rituals, like blood-pinning.
The respect President Bush feels for soldiers and their families is mutual, as my friend told him during these last weeks in Washington, D.C. The love is mutual, she said.
You can cut it with a knife. The love between Bush and his military is as thick as the mold on the walls of Walter Reed.
My friend’s son made it home. Another friend’s brother didn’t, killed by an IED in Afghanistan a few months ago. Over the past eight years, people have had innocence, limbs and lives taken from them while voluntarily serving our country during the war on terror. Their stories should inspire us, and they have — tales of wounded men on multiple tours, even after suffering catastrophic injuries. Visit Walter Reed Army Medical Center, and your response may be a lot like mine: These folks have what it takes.
As long as it doesn’t take money, staff, drugs, adequate housing, janitorial supplies, or the sustained attention of someone at the White House.
Similarly, the interaction my friend had with the president struck me as so very Christmas. For all the “Bush lied, people died,” hysteria, there is something of St. Joseph in George W. Bush.
He’s pink, and you can rub him on a baby’s gums?
St. Joseph plays a key part in the Christmas story. If you’re a believer, you know — you have faith — that he wasn’t Jesus Christ’s biological father.
Just the holiest cuckold around.
But he was a loving, hard-working man, who out of all men the Creator trusted with his Son.
Just as many fathers have trusted Bush with their sons. And, just like Jesus, not all of them were returned in mint condition.
St. Joseph had a faith that allowed him to follow divine requests that couldn’t have made a whole lot of sense.
While Bush has a faith that allows him to issue orders that don’t make a whole lot of sense. The parallels are uncanny.
He was a model of masculine faith. While all men are not called to act as a father to the most important man in human history…
…That was George Herbert Walker Bush’s job.
…Christian manhood involves providing, protecting and obeying, not just when it comes to family life, but also in the Church. What would any religion be without a few good men?
Wicca?
And it’s not just “The Decider” that seems to channel a little bit of Joseph. The moving and shaking of St. Joseph brings to mind so many men I’ve encountered over this past year. I know some of them as fathers of a less-traditional sort, united in purpose with St. Joseph…I think of a talk-show phenom who never forgets to invest in human capital, fathering the movement by teaching for three hours a day and supporting his fellow happy warriors, no matter where they are on the totem pole.
Emphasis added. Squeamishly.
Good grief this woman needs to get laid.
OK, I’ll bite.
Why does “Christmastime” mean she gets a chance to shake hands w/ her commander-in-chief? The two of them have one of those “Same Time Next Yr.” deals going?
I apologize for the very concept. Try not to get the images on your retinas.
Left by M. Bouffant on December 19th, 2008