"The president squinched his face and bit his lip and seemed too antsy to stand still. As he searched for the name of King Abdullah of Saudi Arabia (“the king, uh, the king of Saudi”) and made guy-fun of one of the questioners (“Who picked Gigot?”), you had to wonder what the international financial community makes of a country whose president could show up to talk economics in the middle of a liquidity crisis and kind of flop around the stage as if he was emcee at the Iowa Republican Pig Roast." -Gail Collins, NYT
Nero reportedly fiddled while Rome burned. But George isn't much of a violinist, so he has taken to tapdancing on the steps of the White House, doing his best Gene Kelly impression...
"...I'm singin' in the pain/I'm singin' in the pain/What a glorious feeling/I'm craaaaaazy again!
...and serenading the press corps with an extraordinary rendition of "The Brown Brown Grass of Home" (which most closely resembles that of a stone-drunk Japanese businessman during last call at Karaoke Night at the Kooksville Bar & Grill) all while the United States of America goes down in gas fumes, which is all we can afford anymore.
Pity the poor bastard who has to clean up when the fool finally falls off the stage. He has clearly cracked up, and I, for one, am seriously wondering if he can make it to the end of his term.
There must be concerned whispering going on at the cocktail parties of mental health care professionals in this country. Those folks are trained to see the signs. And yet no one has stepped up to help. No one has done a thing.
Doesn't he have doctors? Doesn't the president's annual physical include a mental health check-up? Or is the psychiatric staff at Walter Reed too busy with the PTSDs and the young men and women with the sides of their heads blown off from - as George in another recent verbal proof of his insanity described them - their "romantic" tours of duty in Iraq?
Isn't there ANYONE in this country concerned about our poor, pathetic idiot of a president?
I guess not. That's why I have decided, even if I am the only one, to hold a fundraising event for President Bush to buy him that much-needed ticket on the Last Train to Kooksville and offset the costs of his long upcoming stay in the Crawford Institute for the Criminally Insane.
I, along with the children from our local elementary school (who, in their innocence and wisdom, can see the signs clearly and feel sorry for the nitwitted narrator of "My Pet Goat") am organizing "Bowling for Nitwits" to be held here at the "Lutheran Lanes" the day after tomorrow.
It's short notice, I know, but we're going to try to squeeze it in before Doomsday.
APOLOGY: Once again I apologize for my long absence to the few friends who still check in here from time to time. The one thing that seems to help these recent headaches of mine is to avoid staring at this computer screen.