Commander Guy Finds Grace:
Oh, Christ, how we've all been there. You're at an afternoon party, a barbecue, perhaps, at the neighbor's and the neighbor's got his severely retarded brother visiting, the kind of guy who's harmless unless antagonized, but who generally skeeves out everyone because you stare into his confused, shifting eyes, wondering just what the retarded guy is thinking and knowing you can never figure it out because you do not understand the mind of the retarded, wondering if there's something malevolent or secretly deep within, when, probably, it's just a desire for more jello. The party continues, and you go along, hoping that the retarded guy doesn't try to talk to you so you have to do your mock "nice" voice and listen to him say something about how he likes ducks or some such shit. And then, standing by the buffet table, you notice - hell, everyone notices, that the retarded guy has pissed himself. You're ashamed for him, for yourself, for humanity in general, for the cosmic entirety of the universe that is so cruel as to have placed such a person in such a position. But then you notice something else. The retarded guy doesn't seem to care that he's pissed himself. Oh, no. Not only is he not embarrassed, but it looks like he doesn't even realize that he's done it. That he's just going ahead and grabbing another shish-ka-bob and juice box. Goddamn, you wanna say, someone tell him that he stinks of urine and needs to be changed. But everyone else seems to just wanna live and let live. Hey, if it doesn't bother the retarded guy, why should it bother you? And, oh, fuck, is he coming over to talk to you?

Watching President George W. Bush speak to a group of contractors yesterday was a little like watching a hooker talk to a bunch of her johns, all whooping it up and applauding 'cause they just want that whore to blow them again. The speech was the usual litany of nonsense about taxes, Iraq, al Qaeda. The most fascinating thing in it was Bush's flat-out denial that Iraq is in a civil war: "The recent attacks are not the revenge killings that some have called a civil war. They are a systematic assault on the entire nation. Al Qaeda is public enemy number one in Iraq." He added later, without any sense of irony, "Al Qaeda has pursued their objective with a ruthless campaign of violence. They can't persuade people through logic."

The question and answer session was just one lip-licking hummer after another - why is this war good? Why is the media so mean, those meanies? And, yes, Bush really did say, "I'm the commander guy." The last time the Rude Pundit heard someone say that was in a particularly dank leather bar in San Diego where closeted naval officers went to satiate their desire for drilling their amphibious assault crafts in the willing asses of non-coms.

Then one of the loyal government-lucre teatsuckers gathered at the Willard Hotel asked, "What do you pray about, and how we can we pray for you?" That is a man who deserves to be pantsed and spanked in front of construction workers. The President answered, "I have been amazed by the fact that millions of Americans of all faith, all political backgrounds, pray for me and Laura." He did not, of course, say what he prays about, although one imagines it has something to do with cheap tequila, an underage El Salvadoran girl's nipples, and an alibi, the kinds of things God loves to hear about.

But the topper was this stooge: "You talked about the terror of 9/11, and what I wanted to share with you, my wife and I had our first child two months after 9/11. We named her Grace, because we felt that the world needed some grace at the time." Because, you know, you always want to make sure that every time you say your kid's name, you think about burning bodies plunging off skyscrapers.

With that wonderful aphasia that afflicts Bush, he latched onto the name of this poor bastard's child and went to town: "Grace will live -- the question is, will Grace live in a peaceful world, today and tomorrow?" Then, as if to comfort wee Grace, Bush went into a litany of what he believes that makes Grace's life better for the future, including (and this just begs to be quoted in full), "I believe in the universality of freedom. That means I believe everybody desires to be free. I don't think freedom is uniquely American, nor do I think it's uniquely Methodist. (Laughter.) I think it is universal. I told you -- I also, obviously, believe in the universality of motherhood. I believe mothers in Iraq want their children to grow up in peace, just like mothers in America do. I also believe people in Iraq want to live in a free society. I wasn't surprised -- I was pleased when 12 million people went to the polls. That statement to me was: freedom." How many "what the fuck" statements did you count in there?

Of course, he returned to Grace at the end of his seemingly endless response: "I know it's necessary to make sure Grace can live in peace. I think people will look back at this period of time and make one or two judgments. They'll either say, what happened to them in 2007; how come they couldn't see the impending dangers that the little Graces of America would have to live with...how come they couldn't remember the lesson of September the 11th, which said, what matters overseas matters at home? Or they'll look back and say, they had faith; they had faith in the ability of liberty to transform a region into a region of hope that yielded the peace so little Grace can be amazed that this generation has done its job."

Man, when little Grace grows up and realizes how her father used her to suck up to the disgraced ex-President, well, let's just say Daddy better keep the matches and lighter fluid hidden.

Having pissed himself so soakingly complete and not giving a damn, enjoying the warmth, even, Bush toddled on to his meeting with the Congressional leadership, probably without even changing his pants.