Good Lord, no! Bush would never stroke his walter out on the fescue, would he? And yet, with thousands of American soldiers dead, maimed or mentally destroyed who knows what he might do. Tens upon tens of thousands of Iraqis dying, dead and done. A treasury that looks like a hooker at four a.m. on a two dollar Tuesday…not to forget we have a Department of Justice that breaks into a wide smirk every time it spreads its fat cheeks a tantalizing two feet above the Constitution, just before it makes a mound of Texas chili where the Bill of Rights used to encamp.

What else? Emergency response agencies that have boldy gone past having one thumb up their asses to two and are making room for all other available digits. For the past eight years Americans have been treated to a well-funded, concerted and coördinated effort at gross manipulation of Tinker Bell Americans and their fervent wish for their Loving Creator God to ride out of the clouds like a Gooney Bird on crack and burn to death everyone who doesn’t drive a fat fucking SUV to the Church of the Maniacal Savior—mmm, and the continuing saga of the normalization of iniquitous profits—profits manifested by raising the hammer of Free Enterprise and banging it on the anvil of Beaten Natives, a saga so foul with karmic vomit they cannot be cleansed but must instead be put into Chinese Toys…shall I go on? Shall I? Go. On?

What else we got here? A President installed like a marked-down bathtub fixture, a Gilded Bully who has more blood on his hands than every single human being currently in prison on the entire planet, and your friendly neighborhood television and radio news stations just keep on truckin’ on like all is right with the world. They may not all have iPods but sure as shit we are occupied by a a pluracy of pod people.

Warning: the following paragraph hints at the idea of Impeachemnt and may be harmful to citizens who exhibit delicate sensibilities and otherwise are okay with rank criminals occupying the Executive Branch of our increasingly corporatized government.

Since it is now considered to be in poor taste to suggest that we make any attempts at removing a virulent, hostile foreign body from the Light Board of these here United States, i.e. Gnard Clencher & Fat-Domestic-Fowl-Shooter-From-The -Passener-Seat-Of-A-Gas-Guzzling Monkey Cruiser, perhaps instead one might ask permission—at least once or twice tomorrow—to lead a patriotic moment of meditation—those around you being recruited to ruminate on the assault upon democracy itself by Bush, Cheney and the ravenous Top One Percenters—if we all could just share an honest moment of reflection, perhaps some accord could be reached. One can continue to be fucked in the ass by those who love him or her not, or one can pull up one’s pants and cease to vote against said one’s interests. If you are reading this because you were teased into it by the headline, and were hoping for an expose of Presidential man-meat you are no doubt by now very, I don’t know, defeatist.

Perhaps one minute spent every business day on this subject could set the table for rational discourse—perhaps we (the non-royal “we”) could reach out to fellow travelers, working together to inspire those folks who find community in Prayer Group to join their secular brothers and sisters to contemplate earthly things such as betrayal, treason,exploitation, murder and the hyper Adlerian Will to Power exhibited by the pellucid nutsacks who are currently running and ruining America—perhaps indeed then we could light the fuse of a glittering rocket that will fill the sky with stardust instead of the decimated remains of human flesh. Ah, those pesky reminders. I must apologize for my impertinence. First talk of impeachment—what’s next? Justice? Puh-leeze…

Anyway, regarding the Political Meditation Break, after this patriotic intermission at work or school, you could top it off by treating yourself to a Starbucks or a Baskin-Robbins. With a little work you could get a kick-back for the product placement. Just saying.

Oh, and if you can’t make any headway with fellow employees, and no one seems to care, remind everyone that our President, George Walker Bush, was caught masturbating on the White House lawn. Masturbating on the White House Lawn. In broad daylight. With children present. And his mother was there. But only point this out if people start to drift off, the way that they do sometimes, maimed and dead soldiers and civilians or not.

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Image of President Bush’s Potassium Stick from here.

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