President to the Nation: "Let Me Keep Trying to Get You Off":
Let us say, and why not, that you're a straight guy or a lesbian. You're in bed with the woman you're in a long-term relationship with and you're going down on her, pearl diving like your village in Japan depends on it. And you're trying so goddamn hard to get her to come, but you've tried all your tricks. You've been through alphabets in fuckin' Cyrillic. You've been eating her out for a good two hours, more, and, frankly, you're just bored and pissy and more than a little thirsty. Occasionally you look up at her face, and she's long past being into this, really more indulging you than anything else. Sure, sure, at the beginning she was totally hot and juicy, pinching her nipples, moaning, shifting her legs, fucking your tongue. Yeah, you thought you had her there about five minutes in, but, no, something distracted her - a cell phone ring, a staring cat - and it was back to square one. You don't know what else to do. You've exercised her clit so much it could probably lift a small suitcase. You've probed deeply, stretching to hit that g-spot; you've used your fingers next to your tongue, hoping volume would succeed where manipulation hasn't. But, at least in the last half-hour or so, nothing. Nada.

Occasionally she asks you if you want to stop. You say, of course, no, you don't, you really want her to have the orgasm you had right at the start, your jaw pain be damned. She keeps allowing you, well past what's reasonable, but, you know, her labia's getting raw, her hips a little tired, her mind wandering to what she's gonna wear to work tomorrow. At some point, she's gonna tell you to stop, but until then, you're not lover enough to admit failure and say you'll try again another day. If she'll even let you.

Last night, when President Bush spoke, he had the sad demeanor of the failing carpet muncher. Sure, he tried the hot talk at the beginning, with the pathetic whine of "In the life of all free nations, there come moments that decide the direction of a country and reveal the character of its people. We are now at such a moment." For the rest of the speech, a useless exercise if there ever was one, Bush said nothing new, made empty promises of troop withdrawals contingent on the revolting business-speak sounding "Return on Success" (get it? Like getting a return on an investment), and Petraeus'ed us to unconsciousness.

There's the question, no? If she falls asleep, do you keep lapping away?

By the way, the dead Guardsman the President mentioned, Brandon Stout? The report of his death was changed to say he was killed by an IED instead of the more frightening EFP, or "explosively formed projectile," as first indicated by the Pentagon. See, according to the Pentagon, letting people know that different tactics end up in American deaths would give a boost to the enemy. An EFP creates a molten metal disk that essentially slices through armor "like butter." He died working with the Iraqi police in Baghdad, a force that that Congress was just told should be disbanded.