Wednesday, September 13, 2006

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.

1 Comments:

Blogger Brian Hinshaw said...

I particularly liked when he referred to his summer reading list as "epileptic."

If only!

9:58 AM  

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