A poem for George Bush:
O, W
O, George
George W Bush
I do not hate you
Even though you are exactly the kind of dumb
that makes me want to jam steak knives into my ears
I know that you did the best you could
And now you're coming back home
Where the buffalo roam
And the deer and the antelope
run for their lives
so as not to be barbecued
I wonder, George
What do you think about?
when you're alone in your overstuffed leather recliner
and the Texas A&M/University of Texas football game
is in that boring part of the middle of the third quarter
and there's no one else in the house
except the hounds
and your pet turtle
whom you named Tony Blair
Do you ever wonder if there is a God?
Do you ever ponder the limitlessness of space
or the unfathomable endlessness of eternity?
Do you ever wonder if space aliens
are approaching the planet
while the ESPN announcer blathers about BCS standings
and whether the aliens will be friendly
or whether they will liberate us?
If I could give you one gift, George W Bush
I would send you on a magical quest
accompanied by three elves
and a gay gnome
and you would have to cross the Valley of Shadows
and slay the dragon Molgorthrunderbern
and find your way through the caverns of Krom
and find the Amulet of Zarthor
and put it on
and gain the power
to pronounce difficult words
and also to understand the suffering of commoners
even if they speak other languages
and worship other gods
and wear funny clothes
and have sex with people of the same sex
and don't eat barbecue.
O, George
Enjoy the football game
George
Hello, friends. How are you today?
Later. Love.
