No means no, george.

Every time I am forced to listen to bush (the lesser) speak, I can feel my I.Q. dropping. His speech is a thought-killing force field that beams from his Deathstar (tm) like head. Watching him attempt to complete a sentence or to speak off the cuff is like watching a drunken Al carry a crate of broken glass across an icy street, wearing his Charlie's Angels dress, with one untied rollerskate on his left foot. He doesn’t so much speak English as mud-wrestle it.
I compare it to a verbal raping. I would never willingly listen to him, and would only do so after much strong drink. The next morning I would feel dirty and need to take a very hot shower. I would flinch involuntarily at any southern accent, and tighten my sphincter at the sight of novelty cowboy hats. I may develop an obession of cutting out the state of Texas (twitch-twitch) from any map of the United States.


No means No, George.

Now, more than ever...

But you can't expect to wield supreme executive power just 'cause some watery tart threw a sword at you! I mean, if I went 'round saying I was an emperor just because some moistened bint had lobbed a scimitar at me, they'd put me away!

Shut up, will you?! Shut up!

Ah, now we see the violence inherent in the system!

Shut up!

Oh! Come and see the violence inherent in the system! Help! Help! I'm being repressed!

Bloody peasant!

Oh, what a give-away. Did you hear that? Did you hear that, eh? That's what I'm on about. Did you see him repressing me? You saw it, didn't you?