The Nossiter Net
The net that shall enmesh them all
Edited, Written, and Published by Josh Nossiter
Dubbya's Diry
The Nossiter Net is cast  to snare some of  the riper rascalities of the day.  Comments?  editor@nossiter.net
Editor’s Note:
In a perverse, and historic, instance of blowback, the Bush Administration’s warrantless surveillance program has inadvertently revealed the text of President Bush’s own daily diary.  This page will publish transcripts as they become available.

Thursday, June 28, 2007
Dear Diry,
Scored me a big vict’ry, diry.  Some of them unbelievers were tryin’ to stop me from givin’ money to the faithful.  I mean the faith-based.  Anyhow, my new Supremes told ‘em where to get off.  So gonna keep pumpin’ dollars into good works.  It’s the right thing to do.  Plus it’s my ‘surance policy for takin’ the up elevator when I kicks the bucket.

Speakin’ o’ which, old Cheney’s goin’ under the knife soon.  Gotta have new batteries for his heart.  And that’s funny ‘cause I didn’t know he had one.  Got Condi to read me all them WashPost stories ‘bout how Cheney calls the shots in my ‘ministration.  And that just ain’t so, diry.  I’m the decider, like I told everyone.  Take today.  Decided to work out.  Decided to have a burger for lunch, mayo, no cheese.  Decided to nap.  Decided to catch the ball game on TV.  All my own decisions.  Never talked to Cheney, not once.  So what do them WaPo guys know?  Not much.  Mine is the glory, diry, and the power, just like the good book says.

Thursday, June 07, 2007
Dear Diry,
I never get no credit for smarts, but I ain’t so dumb really.  Lookit what I got accomplished in Europe lately.  Derailed any global warming treaty, which makes my petro friends real happy.  Restarted the cold war, which is a great distraction from the mess’o’potamia and guarantees full employment for my military officer buddies for, like, ever.  Sold them Eurofags on missile defense, which of course don’t work worth a damn but is going to mean hundreds of billions to my contractor pals.

All them critics can say whatever the heck they want ‘bout my legacy, but who cares?  With the kind of friends I make every day, my future is golden.  Like the good book says, the Lord helps them what helps themselves to seconds, and even thirds.

Thursday, May 31, 2007
Dear Diry,
Got me my war money, diry.  No strings attached.  Showed them dumbocrats who’s boss.  Start of my comeback.  Gonna get my ‘migration bill passed too.  Gonna have a real guest worker program in this country, plenty o’ hard workin’ Mexicans and such who’ll pay taxes, beef up GDP, and best of all who cain’t vote.  Who says I’m a lame duck.  Plenty of fight in this old dog.  Got places to go, people to see, things to do.  Take Iran.  Please. Seriously that Ahmedinajoker is bad news, real bad.  Gotta regime change him, like what I did to Saddam.  Holograph denier, diry. Somethin’ like that.  Bad boy anyways.  Got two carrier task forces in the Gulf right now, ready to go.  They tells me Eye-ran is much bigger and tougher than Eye-raq.  Gonna tell them, bring it on.  Wait, did I say that before?  Can’t remember how it turned out last time.  Memory ain’t what it used to be, diry.  Had me too good a time back in the day.

Real proud of daughter Jenna.  She’s an author.  Gotta book comin’ out, a real book.  All about some kinda aids, band-aids, or mebbe cool aids.  And poor people.  Somethin’ like that.  Like the good book says, blessed are the poor.  ‘Specially when they cain’t vote.

Saturday, January 27, 2007
Dear Diry,
Gave me my radio speech this AM.  Didn’t mention the word Iraq.  Not once, diry.  See, it’s like when I didn’t mention New Orleans in my State of the Union.  When you make your own reality, like what I do, what you don’t take notice of, don’t exist.  So if I goes on NOT mentionin’ Iraq and New Orleans, and any other little slip-ups my administration might have made, they just goes away.  Not gonna be the war president no more.  Didn’t work out.  Gonna be the environmental-health care president instead.  Whoppee.  Gonna put ethanol in Air Force One and git my check up, regular.

Dick’s beginnin’ to scare me, diry.  He always was uglier an’ fatter than an ornery pig gone without his breakuss, but right now he’s even worse than usual.  Crazed.  Like he was on somethin’ he shouldn’t be on.  Wish he’d just go and have his last heart attack and git it over with.  Then I could make Condi VP.  First black VP, first woman VP, with me at her side.  Historic.  Burnish my legacy.  One in the eye for old first female speaker Nancy P.  Maybe I can git the CIA to do something to speed Cheney on his final journey.  Like the good book says, the lord helps those who help themselves.

Thursday, November 30, 2006
Dear Diry,
These NATO guys just don’t get it.  Talkin’ with ‘em over in Riga.  Nice little town.  ‘Cept they got some strange customs.  Wanted me to eat boiled pig’s head, washed down with curdled milk.  Asked for spare-ribs and a coke instead.  Got a few curdled looks for that, but I ain’t eatin’ no pigs head, no how, no way.  Sittin’ on a big platter, eyes and everything.  Damn thing looked just like Rove without his glasses.  NATO confab.  Some of the NATOs said George, how come you don’t consider turning Iraq over to NATO, like you did Afghanistan?  And I said, big difference between them two countries.  One has oil, the other don’t.  Duh. That shut ‘em all up.

Everybody’s bein’ rude to me.  Stood up by Maliki at dinner yesterday, diry.  And he owes me everything.  Also that Jim Webb. Right in my own White House.  Asked him ‘bout his boy, over in Iraq.  Civil question.  Bring ‘em home is what he answered.  Didn’t have no call to say that.  Made me mad, cause that’s what our embassy in Buenos Aires keeps sayin’ ‘bout my girls.  Bring ‘em home, they keep cablin’, bring ‘em home.  Webby oughta be grateful to me for gettin' his kid out of the house.  If he don’t like Iraq, why then, send him to Argentina instead.  He can party with my twins.  If he’s got any sense, he’ll stay in Iraq instead.  Quieter there.  Maybe safer.  Like the good book says, Twins ev’n from the birth are misery and man!

Friday, November 24, 2006
Dear Diry,
Ol’ Laura-lardy told me I gots to sit down and write about what I got to be thankful for.  Nice day for bikin’ too.  On holiday, diry.  Camp David.  It’s not even Thanksgiving anymore.  Ain’t fair, but gots to get it over with.  OK, so I’m thankful for the way the White House mess finally learned how to fix macaroni and cheese.  It’s good and orange now, and kinda gummy, just the way I likes it.  I’m thankful for my new cowboy boots, hand-tooled snake skin with little Ws woven in.  I’m thankful for…  gotta be somethin’ else.  I’ll think of somthin’, diry.

Pardoned them two turkeys this week.  Overheard somebody in the audience askin’ “since when does one turkey get to pardon another?”  NSA pinpointed the speaker right quick.  Directional mike pick-up.  Gets ‘em every time.  Told the perp it was a pretty funny crack. Then I fired his sorry ass.  Not all firing though, diry.  Put my boy Doc Keroack in charge of family plannin’.  Inter-estin’ guy.  Thinks premarital sex is bad, ‘cause too many orgasms produce somethin’ called oxytocin, what damages the brain.  Sex is OK after marriage ‘cause there ain’t no orgasms?  Must be somethin’ like that.  Hmm.  Now afore I met ol’ Laura, I weren’t exactly no monk.  I wonder if there’s somethin’ to the Doc’s theory.  I mean, after all, lookit me!  Like the good book says, “As snow in summer, and as rain in harvest, so honor is not seemly for a fool.” 
Proverbs 26:1

Sunday, November 19, 2006
Dear Diry,
Bin hangin’ with them Vietcong past few days.  Eatin’ lotsa take-out.  ‘Cept it’s home-made!  They do it right in their own kitchens!  Made ‘em show me, ‘cause I thought food like that came from little cardboard boxes, not kitchens.  But I didn’t want ‘em to feel bad.  Told ‘em it was almost as good as what we got in Texas when we orders out.

Funny thing is, thought them V’cong was our enemies.  Seems like not.  Friends now.  Trade partners.  When did that happen?!  Nobody ever tells me nothin’.  What I don’t git is that they’re still commie.  Commie, AND our friends.  Kinda like the Chinese, I guess, but they’re not really our friends neither.  Can’t be.  Chinese don’t believe in God, or freedom.  But we need their cheap t-shirts.  Need ‘em to buy our debt too.  It’s all kinda confusin’, diry. It don’t make no sense.  And what about them russkies?  Hate liberty, but not the evil empire anymore.  Plus, they got oil and gas.  So they’re also friends, sort of.  I’d ask Karl, but seems like he don’t know shit anymore.  Cheney neither.  Ask Condi.  But tell her not to use any of them big words.

It’s like the good book says:  you can’t keep score without a scorecard.  Gonna get my folks to write me up a scorecard.  That way, I can tell the good guys from the bad guys more easier.  Too confusin’ otherwise.  World sure is complicated, diry.  ‘Specially when yer dumb and ign’nant, like what I am.

Friday, November 10, 2006
Dear Diry,
Plenty steamed with Karl.  Cheney too.  Misleaded me, diry.  Told me Pelosi was the devil.  Well, she came to lunch yesterday, and I looked real careful at her head and hiney.  No horns, no tail.  Pleasant kinda woman, even though she represents San Fran.  Asked her if it was true people in her district voted to impeach me.  Seems like they did, but they don’t have the authority to actually do it.  ‘Peach me, that is.  Told her it seemed kinda silly in that case, and she agreed with me!  Said San Frans did their share of grandstanding.  Like I said, pleasant kinda woman.  Got to have chocolate dessert on her account.  Usually they don’t let me.  Gonna ‘vite her again.

Seems like there was some kinda ‘lection this week, diry.  Karl told me some about it.  Seems like our side lost.  So they told me to fire old Rum-balls.  How come, I asked.  Was it his fault?  Thought Karl and Kenny boy were running the ‘lection for us.  Rummy has to go, they said, on account of I-raq.  Seems like things aren’t so hot there, all of a sudden.  And they kept tellin’ me we were winnin.’  Misleaded me again, diry.  Kenny’s quittin.’  Wonder if old Karl’s gotta go too.  Sad, diry.  Soon, gonna be nobody ‘round here ‘cept for poppy’s old people.  And Cheney.  Kinda tired of Cheney.  Thinkin’ it’s about time for a long vacation, down Crawford way.  Two year vacation, maybe.  Can I do that?  Don’t see why not.  After all, I’m the president, and like the good book says, I spinneth not, neither do I toil.

Friday, November 03, 2006
Dear Diry,
Did it again, diry.  Fooled that dumb N. Y. Times.  Had a story today about how my ‘ministration mistakenly posted directions for making a nuke on the internets.  But that weren’t no mistake.  Did it deliberately.  By now all them terrorist groups have the directions printed out, and pretty soon we’ll be seein’ actual nukes bein’ used.  And what’s gonna happen when they are?  Right, diry.  War on Terror II.  And this time it’ll be the real thing, with missiles and aircraft carriers and nucular subs and all that good stuff.  Yessiree, apocalypse right now.  Rumsfeld’s idea.  Make our big oil and defense and pharma buddies happy.  Give me the chance to finally push the button, just like I always wanted to.  Dick said I could.  Cool.

Speakin’ of dick, is it just me or does it seem like the Grand Old Party outta be renamed the Gay Old Party?  I mean, I talk to the Rev. Ted Haggard once a week.  He’s the boss of 14 million evangelicals, part of my outreach to God fearin’ Christians.  Always tell him the only thing we disagree on is what truck to drive.  Turns out we disagree on coupla other things too.  He’s bin payin’ a hooker and buyin’ drugs.  Now, I don’t hold with drugs, diry.  Plus, Teddy boy was a mite confused, ‘cause this hooker is a man.  Maybe he was hirin’ him for his wife?  Anyway you look at it, don’t look too good.  Still, like the good book says, there’s two sides to every story.  Ol’ Ted’s better be good if he’s gonna get over this hump.


Thursday, November 02, 2006

Dear Diry,
An’ they says I mangle my words!  They don’t get much manglier than what ol’ cadaver Kerry came up with about our brave boys and girls in uniform.  Said they didn’t work hard in school and so got stuck in I-raq.  The kicker is, ol’ skull face was tryin’ to make a crack about yrs. trly.  not workin’ hard in school.  But I ain’t stuck in I-raq, diry.  Got me my comfy bed right here at 1600 Pennyslvania Ave, all mod cons, 24 hour room service, flat screen TV, Air Force One, Marine One, and a fleet of limos.  Not bad for a C- student, heh?  Just shows that ol’ skull face don’t know a barn from an outhouse.  ‘Sides, he had ‘bout the same GPA as me at Yale.  He’s catchin’ heat, and deservedly so, for insultin’ brave warriors like me.  ‘Cause I wore the uniform, diry, just like he did.  Didn’t get no medals.  Didn’t see no action.  But I wore that uniform proudly, kept it real clean and pressed.  More’n you can say for that ol’ Mekong mud-boy.

Elections comin’, diry.  Polls look bad for us Repubs.  Karl says don’t worry, he’s got everything under control.  Dunno why, but everytime Karl says that, I get to worryin’ a little more.  Like the good book says, a stitch in time saves mine.  Wonder who ol’ Karl’s gonna stitch up this time?


Saturday, October 21, 2006

Dear Diry,
National Character week, diry.  Yearly chance to highlight great Americans.  Went with my good buddy Don Sherwood of Pennsylvania.  Election fight of his life, and it’s not fair, diry.  Seems old ding dong Don shacked up with a Peruvian teenager, choked her, then settled the lawsuit for a big wad of cash.  And that’s a good example of why we need tort reform.  Keep them ‘migrants from suin’ honest Repub congressmen.  Real hard on his lovely family, havin’ to pay out like that.  Then went to spotlight another fine American, gorgeous George Allen, down Virginny way.  Good man;  his dad, a great football coach. They say he’s a racist.  I say he’s a Republican.

Is it just me or is there some kinda obesity epidemic in the Repub party?  I mean, you look at Cheney or Hastert in profile, and you just don’t see nothin’ but their profiles.  Some of us are spendin’ a leetle too much time at the old feedin’ trough.  Mentioned to Laura last time I last smacked her on the butt that even she was feelin’ a little heftier.  Been sleepin’ on the couch ever since.  Good way to catch up on my TV watchin’, diry.  Ol’ Laura-lardy always makes me read.  And readin’ makes me tired.  Like the good book says, all work and no play makes George a dull boy.  Don’t it also say somethin’ ‘bout “Georgy Porgy puddin and pie, kiss the girls and make them cry”?   Guess old ding dong Don was reading his bible, sure enough.  Didn’t know he was a literalist, though…


Thursday, October 12, 2006

Dear Diry,
Haven’t written in a while, diry.  Too engraged.  First there was Woodward’s new book, callin’ my ‘ministration a pack a lyin’ varmints, at each others’ throats all the time, dumb, ign’ant, willfull, infantile when they’re not bein’ sophomoric.  Harsh words, diry, and too true.  But he had no call to go and say so, ‘specially after I treated him real nice, talked to him, played ball with his other books.  Just goes to show that if you let a true ass-kisser get too close, like I did with that prune-faced brown-nose, he’ll bite your hiney.

Then there’s that other hiney-biter, Foley.  Unspeechable.  Reprehensile.  Immolarel.  Gonna cost us the election, diry, see if he don’t.  When I told Karl to light a fire under congress’s ass, I was talkin’ ‘bout my agenda, not this other stuff.  Reminds me of that ole drinkin’ song visitin’ football teams used to sing when they played Yale.  How’d it go?  “Oh the freshman down at Yale get no tail.  Oh the freshman down at Yale get no tail.  That’s why half the freshman class, has to take it up the –“  Them were the days, diry, but like the good book says, you can’t go home agin’.


Friday, September 22, 2006

Dear Diry,
I’m so mad.  That no good commie Hugo “el loco” Chavez called me the devil.  Right in front of the UN General Assembly, those other no good commies.  Said he could still smell the sulphur from when I stood there.  And there was no call to do that.  Took a bath, diry, right before my speech.  Brought rubber ducky from D.C., fer that very reason.  Wanted to call a press con and call him poopy pants right back, but Karl wouldn’t let me.  Said it wouldn’t be dignified.

As for that Ahmadinejoker of Iran, he ain’t no better.  Wants me to let him have nukes.  And I say those things are dangerous, and immature little punks like him shouldn’t go playin’ with ‘em.  Same with old Coco Morales of Bolivia, who wants me to let him grow coca leaves.  Lied, big time diry.  Said Coca Cola had coca leaf in it, when it hasn’t, not for decades.  Only got high fructose corn syrup in it, made by my good friends at ADM.  Diabetes in a bottle they calls it.  Coca’d be healthier, that’s for darn sure.  But like the good book says, what kills don’t make you stronger.  Or somethin’ like that.


Saturday, September 16, 2006

Dear Diry,
Them Senate Repubs are betrayin’ me.  Warner, McCain, Grahm.  Spawn of Satan.  Won’t let me go on torturin’ the bad guys.  Tried to tell ‘em they’re bad guys, who cares if they git tortured?  So what if them killers and suiciders and terr’ists get banged up by our boys?  They know things we gotta know, and we gotta get it anyway we can.  ‘Sides, they got it comin’ to ‘em.  They started it.  They dish it out, outta be able to take it.  But them Senate Repubs weren’t buyin’.  Said torture was bad.  Said it harmed our moral standing.  Said it put our own people in danger of gettin' the same treatment overseas.  Said torture puts us on the same level as the terrr’ists.

Told ‘em that was the soft bigotry of low expectations.  Good one, huh diry?  Who’re we to put ourselves ‘bove them terr’ist monkeys?  We’re all part of God’s plan, and there ain’t no call to think we’re better’n them, even if they are a bunch of evil-doers.  Like the good book says, do unto others as you see fit.  Don’t it?


Friday, September 15, 2006
Dear Diry,
OK, gonna say it:  Powell’s a child of the devil.  Knew it all the time when he was workin’ fer me, now there’s proof.  Says the world questions moral basis of the fight on terr’rr.  Knows damn well what the moral basis of our fight is.  Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord.  That’s the only basis I need, ‘cause everyone knows I’m the instrument of the Lord.  God wanted me in this job, told me so.  Now some jumped up Volvo fixin’ ree-tired general’s gonna ‘cuse me of immorality?  Judgement Day’s comin’, Colin buddy.  I wouldn’t want to be in your size 12s.  No sirree.

See what that panty-waist Brooks wrote in the Satan Times ‘bout my little get together with him and them other conservative pundits, diry?  All’s ‘bout how dominating I am.  Charismatic.  Sheeit.  Martha Stewart’d dominate those limp-wristed lame-brains.  Sheep.  Got their uses though.  My instruments, just like I’m the Lord’s.  They goeth at my bidding, all right.

Friday, September 01, 2006
Dear Diry,
Just about had it with all this whining about the economy.  Corporate profits are doin’ great, stock market’s AOK, so what’s the problem?  Wages are goin’ down for most workers, but what people don’t understand is that’s a good thing.  See diry, when workers got less money, they don’t buy as much stuff.  And with less stuff bein’ bought, prices of stuff can’t go up.  So, no inflation.  And that’s a real good thing.  People fergit I went to Harvard b school, so I knows all ‘bout this crap.

Raised three quarters of a million bucks for that little prick Orrin Hatch yesterday.  Had to.  Otherwise he was going to make me listen to his stupid songs.  Moron songs.  Or Mormon?  Somethin’ like that.  Like the good book says, “there should be no schism in the body”
Corinthians 12:25 Guess them Morons didn’t read that far.

Tuesday, August 29, 2006

Dear Diry,
Came all the way down to the Gulf Coast to show my support for the good folks hereabouts.  Hot, diry.  Sweaty.  Rather be in Crawford.  Reminded ‘em ‘bout all the money I allocated.  ‘Course, most of that money’s been wasted or hasn’t shown up yet, but it’s the thought that counts, ain’t it?  Place still looks like shit though.  Worse than Maine, even.  Now there’s a spot overdue for a hurricane.  Blow those war protestors right out to sea.

As for New Orleans, well it’s just too bad.  Place votes Democrat, so whadda they ‘spect?  Funny thing is, most of the folks who ain’t come back were those same Democrat voters.  Wouldn’t it be just too bad if NO turned red?  Heh, heh.  Like the good book says, God helps those who help themselves.  If NO goes Republican, and I helped it, why, I’m just doin’ God’s work.  Karl’s too, ‘course.


Friday, August 25, 2006

Dear Diry,
Gettin' so’s I can’t go nowhere without some protestor cloggin’ up the view.  Take a little fishin’ trip up to Poppy’s place in Maine, and them protestors are hangin’ around.  Got worse.  Met with some war widows to distract attention from the protestors, and one of ‘em told me to stop the bleedin’.  The nerve.  Seems like everybody’s a critic these days.  I mean, it’s her husband’s job to be a soldier, go out and fight, maybe get killed.  What does she think he got paid for?

Plus, didn’t catch a darn thing.  Poppy bent my ear the whole time on the Iraq thing, says it’s going to drag the party down to defeat, put them Dem’crats back in charge.  Says we gotta git, and pronto.  Had to listen, stuck in the boat with him.  Thanked him for his advice, but told him I listen to a higher father. Like the good book says, “The fathers have eaten sour grapes, and the children's teeth are set on edge”
Ezekiel 18:2 Old sourpuss.  Still not doin’ the vision thing.  Doesn’t get what we’re tryin’ to do in the middle east.  What are we tryin’ to do again?  Ask Karl.

Tuesday, August 22, 2006

Dear Diry,
Oops.  Got a little carried away during my press con yeste’day, diry.  Got asked what Iraq had to do with attacks on the WTC.  Answered straight out:  “nothing.”  Cheney bit my head off after.  So did Karl.  Dunno what I was thinking.  Didn’t mean to let the truths slip out like that.  But my question to Karl and Dick is, what in heck are we doin’ in Iraq?  Beats us, they told me.  And that’s a good answer too, ‘cause it’s the same one I got.

More bad news from over in the U. of K.  Thought Tony B. was my best friend.  Now he’s got his top official telling some great british newspaper I’m of low intellect.  Now where did he get that idea?  I mean, like the good book says, don’t judge a book by its cover.  I ain’t of low intellect.  I ain’t of intellect at all, high or low.  Go with my gut, not my intellect.  Heck, works for me!


Saturday, August 19, 2006

Dear Diry,
Not a good week, Diry.  No bounce from the Heathrow bomb plot, dang judge insulted my wiretapping program, consarned Syrians and Iranians crowing about Leb’non – irritatin’ and annoyin’.  Had to yell at Cheney, told him to stop screwing up so much.  What the hell does he think, I pay him to fuck up in my name?  And they call me the dumb one.  One frickin’ failure after another’s about all he’s come up with lately.  ‘Course I made out like everything was hunky dory in my radio show today.  Freedom’s on the march, democracy’s on the rise, prosperity is before us – the usual crap.

Speakin’ a which, you see where the Brits are callin’ me crap?  Deputy PM said so himself, got cheered in Parliament.  Old Tony’d better get his ass back from his vacation, get his house in order.  Like the good book says, when the mice’s away, the cats will stray – or somethin’.  Crap.  What the hell do they know, over there in the U. of K.  I mean, whaddya ‘spect of people who play football without a helmet?


Tuesday, August 15, 2006

Dear Diry,
What a disappointment.  Picked up a book, The Stranger.  Figured it was about one of my fave tv shows, ‘member it, Diry?  1950s show, ‘bout a mysterious guy who’d turn up to help people.  Watched it as a kid.  So this book turns out to have nothing to do with the tv show!  Read the whole thing ‘fore I figured it out.  All ‘bout some dumb ass office worker who murders some guy, and then blames the sun.  I mean what kind of lame-ass excuse is that?  Plus, no pi’chers.  But written by a frog, so whaddya ‘spect?

Declared Israeli victory over Hezbollah today.  Dick told me to.  Ain’t so sure, myself.  Seems to me both sides took a pounding, not much got done.  Kinda like Iraq.  Plus, evil-doers still runnin’ around down there.  Shoulda let the Israelis finish the job.  Condi wouldn’t let me.  Condi.  Dick.  Stuck between ‘em, it’s like the good book says, havin’ to steer clear of Scylla and Charybdis. 

Saturday, August 12, 2006

Dear Diry,
This British thing’s gettin’ kind of embarrassin’.  I mean, it was Scotland Yard that uncovered the plot to bomb them airplanes.  Now, ‘course we don’t got Scotland Yard in the US of A, but we do got Camden Yards, and so far’s I can tell ain’t nothing goin’ on there ‘cept baseball games.  Gotta get on the horn to Chertoff, tell him to get the finger out.  Told everybody today in my radio address that we’re gonna win the war on terr’r.  And I ain’t a liar, Diry.  ‘Cept when it suits me.

I sure do get a lot of criticism from everybody, including my own party.  But get this, Diry:  I took time outta my vacation to go all the way to Wisconsin for a party fundraiser.  Raised three-quarter of a million just by showin’ up.  Like to see jelly-belly Gore or old skull face Kerry do that.  Like the good book says, 90% of life is just showin’ up.  And that’s one thing I do right well.


Thursday, August 10, 2006

Dear Diry,

Got to initiate some new boys into my ‘sclusive Hundred Degree Club.  Gotta run three miles or bike ten under that good old Texas sun.  Get a tee shirt if you do it.  Macho stuff.  Everybody loves it.  Stuff like that’s why I’m so popular.  Yep, pays to be the good guy.  Speakin’ a which, my pal Lieberman ain’t too happy today.  Sorry for him.  One of the most loyal Republicans in the Senate.

And how ‘bout old Tony B. over in the U. of K., foiling that terr’ist plot?  They had those airplane boys dogged for a year afore they reeled ‘em in.  Kinda like our CIA, who had the 9/11 hijackers’ names for more than a year afore they – oops, okay, we didn’t reel them in.  But we coulda, and that’s a fact.  Hmm.  Strike that, Diry.  Sure glad ain’t nobody readin’ this but us.  Like the good book says, “A righteous man hateth lying: but a wicked man is loathsome, and cometh to shame.”
Proverbs, 13:5 Always do tell the truth, leastways to you, Diry.  Mebbe that’s why I ain’t got no shame.

Tuesday, August 08, 2006

Dear Diry,
What I love about the oil biz is how the folks in it got real cojones.  Right at the height of summer, BP shuts down the largest oil field in the country.  Price of oil spiked right up, and the boys are just rubbin’ their hands and chuckling.  ‘Course, all that spillage doesn’t look too good, ‘specially for them tree huggers that don’t want drillin’ in national parks.  But screw ‘em, they ain’t got oil company stock like I do.

Also love the ‘liberal’ press.  Love it.  That prick Conyers publishes a House Judiciary report,
Constitution in Crisis; The Downing Street Minutes and Deception,
Manipulation, Torture, Retribution, and Coverups in the Iraq War, and Illegal Domestic Surveillance
.  Just came out.  Accuses me of all kinds o’ impeachable offenses.  AND NOBODY PAYS ANY ATTENTION.  Hah, hah. Ain’t life grand.  Like the good book says, “Remember, I pray thee, who ever perished, being innocent? Or where were the righteous cut off?” Job 4:7 That’s me, innocent and righteous, and gettin' away with it too.

Monday, August 07, 2006

Dear Diry,
What’s up with this global warming?  Hot as hell here in Crawford, and I’m lovin’ it.  Feeling those extra pounds just melt away.  Heat I can feel in my bones, what’s wrong with that?  ‘Specially since we got great airconditioning here on my spread, swimmin’ pool, all mod cons.  Conference room in the basement, two way video to anywhere in the world.  Dialed up old phony Tony yesterday, over in the U. of K.  Yo, Blair!  Global warming?  Not a problem – heat’s good for geezers like us.  Just ask your doc.  Tony’s always on about global warming.  Like I told him, the jury’s still out.  Just like with evolution.  Invited him over to Crawford.  Little Texas dust’ll do him a power of good.  Told me he was going to Italy instead.  Whaddya wannna do that for, I asked him.  Can’t get no BBQ in Italy, no fried chicken.  Told me he prefers Eye-tie food.  Snob.  Like the good book says, the meek shall inherit the earth.  Just like I did.


Sunday, August 06, 2006

Dear Diry,
Only ten days for my Crawford vacation, that’s all Karl’s givin’ me.  Strategery, or somethin’, confound it.  Gotta make the most of it.  Clear some brush. I love Crawford.  110 degrees in the shade, and there ain’t much shade in this deforested wasteland, no social life, just me and my bike and my tv set.  Love how the reporters hate it here, bitchin’ ‘bout no night life, social life.  Not even a decent hotel for miles.  Love it when the press sits on a burr.  Called Sam Donaldson a has-been at my last press con.  Looked like he swallowed a burr!  Insulted everybody I could in as short a time as possible, and they just sat there and took it.  Spineless wusses.  Like the good book says, “Be strong and of a good courage, fear not, nor be afraid of them.”
Moses 5 31:6  I ain’t afraid of the press.  Afraid of nothin’.  ‘Cept maybe Karl.  And Dick.  And Laura…

Saturday, August 05, 2006
Dear Diry,
L’il vacation from my diry lately.  Had some brush clearing to do, mountain biking.  But can you beat it?  That skunk, Peter Galbraith, he writes in his new book that I didn’t know the difference between Sunni and Shia before goin’ into Iraq.  That just ain’t so.   Anybody who knows me, knows I always orders my eggs sunni side up.  See, that’s different from over-easy.  Shee – it, anybody knows that.

Some are sayin’ I’m wrong not to talk to the Syrians, and the Eye-ranians, and old Oh oh Olmert ‘bout this here little dust-up in Leb'non.  What I say is, what’s my staff for?  Consarn it, they gotta earn their pay, Condi and all.  That’s their job.  Anyways, don’t talk to terr’ists like them Syrians and Eye-ranians.  My policy, and I’m stickin’ to it.  Like the good book says, don’t talk to strangers, and there ain’t nothing stranger than them Eye-ranians.  Why, somebody was tellin' me the other day they ain't even Arabs.  And I thought they was some kind of muslim.  Confusin'.  Ask Karl.



Saturday, May 06, 2006

Dear Diry,
Tarnation.  Porter Goss.  Smokin’ cigars, drinkin’, consortin’ with ladies of the night, all with a crooked defense contractor, as though there was any other kind.  Had to fire him.  Can’t have my administration officials losin’ at poker.  If they play, they got to win.  That’s the rule, and ol’ Portapotty knew better.  Did a good job over there at CIA though.  My people wrote his speeches, he delivered ‘em.  Got to find a good replacement.  No more poker players though.

Hoo boy, how ‘bout that Kennedy kid?  Dumb cluck.  ‘Least when my twins get plastered, they have the sense not to drive.  Unlike their dad.  Funny how nobody ever mentions my DUIs.  That darn ol’ liberal press.  Heh heh.  Like the good book says, “The ungodly are not so, but are like the chaff which the wind driveth away”
Psalms 1:4  See, my twins got drivers to drive ‘em away.  Saves me all kindsa trouble.

Wednesday, May 03, 2006

Dear Diry,
How come people are always sayin’ I never admit mistakes, and never learn nothin’ from experience?  It just ain’t so.  Why, look at my new bird flu plan.  If there really is a pand– pandy– one of those panda things, and a million people die, I got it all scoped out. Let the states take care of it.  The federal gove’ment’s gonna sit on its hands.  All them guv’ners can take the blame when things go wrong.  Learned my lesson from Katrina.  Like the good book says, the Lord helps those who help themselves.  And if my fellow Americans is smart, they’ll start prayin’ for help from the Lord right now. They ain’t gonna get any from my administration, that’s for darn sure.

That Boston Globe says I signed 750 laws that I declared don’t apply to me.  Like it was some kinda problem.  If I sign ‘em, I can ignore ‘em.  That’s only fair, ‘cause if I didn’t sign ‘em, they wouldn’t be laws at all.  Dumb Globe.  Don’t know nothin’ ‘bout logik.


Tuesday, May 02, 2006

Dear Diry,
Well misery sure do loves company.  That nasty Colbert creep laid into the press corps as good as he laid into me.  So whaddo I read in my today’s NYT and WashPost about Colbert’s performance?  Nada in the Times.  Not much in the Post.  Hah hah hah.  Best way to silence your critics is to ignore ‘em.  Meanwhile the press makes me out like a hero for my twins routine, being so funny and all.  Love it.  Who says I ain’t got good press relations?

Kinda worried about releasing those Secret Service logs of White House visitors.  ‘Course, they’re after Abramoff, but how ‘bout my other embarassin’ visitors?  I mean, there’s you know who, and what’s his name, and that other guy.  Gotta see if Karl can edit them logs a little.  Like it says in the good book, God shall send forth his mercy and his truth
Psalms 57:3.  God shall.  Not me.  Heh heh.

Monday, May 01, 2006

Dear Diry,
White House Press Association dinner last night.  Meet the press?  Hate the press.  Entertained ‘em for free with a hilarious routine, even Laura laughed (worries ‘bout laughin’, poor old thing, for fear her make-up’ll crack) it was so good.  Then whatta they do?  Sick that prick Colbert on me.  Rude SOB.  Unforgiveably rude, ‘bout my Iraqi government, exposin’ Valerie Plame, NSA spyin’, my personal beliefs. 
His whole routine’s on the Internet – millions are gonna watch it.  Don’t y’all dare to click that link.  Well I’m not laughing.  Vengeance is mine, like the good book says.  Also don’t get mad:  get even.  Even, Stephen.  My next Crawford barbecue or White House do for the press corps?  You ain’t invited, Stevie.  So there.

Thursday, April 27, 2006
Dear Diry,
So here’s what I just don’t git:  two thirds of the country thinks I’m doin’ a lousy job.  That leaves like, what, a quarter?  Yeah.  So a quarter of the country thinks I’m NOT doin’ a lousy job.  And my question is, what makes ‘em think that?  If I could only figure out what they’re seein’ that nobody else is, includin’ me, why, it would help me out a lot.  I’d just show those other two thirds what the one quarter likes, and they’d all like it too.  I wonder where that one quarter’s at?  Sure ain’t in Washington, that’s fer sure.  ‘Bout my only friend left here is old Barney, and he’s as dumb as a dog.  Come to think on it, he is my dog.

Honored the teacher of the year.  Kim Oliver.  Kiddiegarten teacher.  Cute as a button.  Would have asked her to teach me a few things, only Laura was standin’ right there.  I know the good book says “Thou shalt not covet,” but all’s I wanted was a reading lesson.  Kiddiegarten teacher.  Bet she’d have a whole bunch to teach me.  Probably read me that pet goat story I never got to finish.  I’ve been wonderin’ about how it ended ever since 9/11/01.  Wonder if Karl would read it if I asked him real nice?

Wednesday, April 26, 2006

Dear Diry,
Gas gas gas.  All’s anyone wants to talk ‘bout is gas.  So I gave a real good speech about gas.  All ‘bout ethanol and hybrids and price gouging by oil companies.  It was real good ‘cause I keep a straight face through the whole thing.  Didn’t crack up once.  Sure felt like it though!  Ha ha ha.  ‘Nother thing that cracks me up.  All them po-faced pundits talkin’ ‘bout how it’s supply and demand, and demand from China and all is pushin’ prices up up up.  Supply and demand, in the oil biz?!!  Like it was a free market?!!  Hoo boy.  If only they knew how the boys up in the God Pod at Exxon HQ in good ole TX get  whenever they hear that one.  They laugh! Hysterically.  Almost have heart attacks.  Kinda like me, they can’t read the papers too much, for fear of bringin’ on coronaries due to fits of uncontroll'ble hilarity.  I mean, how can anyone think laws of supply and demand op’rate in the oil biz?!  Supply’s controlled by a cartel, production and distribution by a oli… oli… oligator? Oligollyopoly?  Ask Karl.

And they call me stupid.   Like the good book says, You sure can fool everybody all the time, so long’s you got unlimited dough and the right marketing guys.


Monday, April 24, 2006
Dear Diry,
Been visitin’ old Gerry Ford.  Man they said couldn’t walk and chew gum at the same time.  Said he played too much football without a helmet.  Makes me look like a geniu – well, check that.  But a killer on the golf course.  Had him a slice pretty literally deadly – buzz cut more than a few spectators of the presidential rounds.  More dangerous than Cheney, loaded for quail.  My hero.  Don’t make ‘em like that anymore.

Can’t understand why everbody’s complaining ‘bout gas prices.  Three dollars a gallon, boo hoo.  Big deal.  People just don’t see the big picture, is all.  Why sure, gas prices is up, but that ain’t all bad.  I mean shucks, have you looked at ExxonMobil stock lately?  Hoo doggy.  And ChevronTexaco and all them other fine oil companies?  Man could get rich investing in those stocks right now.  Man, have I.  So everybody should just get a grip ‘bout these gas prices.  Like the good book says, “He that tilleth his land shall have plenty of bread.”
Proverbs 28:19 And did I mention that the new White House pastry cook is a real artiste?

Friday, April 21, 2006

Dear Diry,
Hu boy, thank the Lord that’s over!  That President Hu, picky picky.  Didn’t like gettin' heckled at the press con, didn’t like me grabbin’ his sleeve, didn’t like how the White House announcer described him as President of the Republic of China instead of the People’s Republic of China.  Dunno why not, he wants to annex Taiwan anyway.  Didn’t want a lunch, wanted dinner, didn’t want to make a deal on trade, didn’t want to revalue the Yuan – what a sore-head.  And no sense of humor, did I mention that?  Told him I couldn’t understand why he wanted dinner instead of lunch, because we were bringin’ out the best China for the occasion!  Didn’t get it.  Good riddance.  My opinion?  Guy played too much ping pong without a helmet.  Do they wear helmets in ping pong?  Ask Karl.

Out in Californ-I-ay.  Hate the left coast.  Too many Dems.  And those Silicon Valley boys think a little too much of themselves.  Way they talk, you’d think they was oil men.  Think they hold the key to the future.  Huh.  Not on my watch.  Like the good book says, “fill thine horn with oil, and go.”
1 Samuel 16:1 Even the Lord don’t care much ‘bout conservation.

Thursday, April 20, 2006

Dear Diry,
Beginnin’ to see what old Prince Charlie meant when he called the Chinese leadership “frightful old waxworks.”  Tryin’ to talk to President Hu is like pullin’ teeth from a rooster.  Told a few “Confucious says” jokes to loosen things up, like “Man who runs behind car gets exhausted” and “Man who sleeps in cathouse by day sleeps in doghouse by night”* but did the guy laugh?  No sir.  Loaded a big table with paper, pencils, other stuff for the meeting, crouched behind it, then I jumped up and yelled “supplies!”  Still no laugh.  Well, tried just ‘bout everything to get a rise out of old Huby baby, and just when I figured, uh uh, this’s gonna be the stiffest meetin’ in White House history, the guy cracks up.  Never saw a guy laugh so much.  And all’s I said was, “Now ‘bout that little old trade deficit of ours…”

Hard to figure.  Them Chinamen are famous for it though.  Unscrewable?  Somethin' like that.  Just a tactic.  Like Confucious says, “"Man with poker face take pot.”  Mebbe Hu WAS smokin’ something, come to think of it.  Mebbe I’ll try that too ‘fore the next session…

* http://www.chinesejokes.net/jokes

Wednesday, April 19, 2006

Dear Diry,
Met with the Leb’nese Prime Minister yesterday.  Fuad Siniora.  Ribbed him some ‘bout his name.  See, in Mex’can, senora means “lady.”  Leastways, I think so.  And old Foo-add, he’s a guy.  He didn’t get the joke.  Probably don’t speak Mex’can.  Everybody complains ‘bout my speakin’ skills.  Showed ‘em yesterday, all them critics.  Had breakfast with some U.S. governors, just back from Afghan’stan and Iraq.  Told ‘em, and I quote myself, “victory will be achieved when there is a democracy in both countries that are able to sustain itself and defend itself."   Those press people were just sittin’ in amazement at my audacious verbal ‘bility.  Like I told ‘em later, "In a global economy, if our children do not have the skill sets for the jobs of the 21st century, the jobs are going to go somewhere else.”  If all them kids had my skill sets, then where’d we be?  Stunned ‘em again. 

Speakin’ of the press, told Scotty McClellan goodbye today.  Had to go.  His mom’s running for office in Texas.  As a Dem’crat.  Told him he was the best of his family, and I meant every word of it.  Like the good book says, “Woe unto them! for they have gone in the way of Cain”
Jude 1:11.  We ain’t havin’ any of that in my white house, no sirree.

Sunday, April 16, 2006

Dear Diry,
On holiday.  Ag’in.  And why not.  I work hard, put in long hours, spend all my time on the nation’s business.  Well, when I’m not watchin’ sports on the TV, and exercising, and holidaying, and sleeping.  Tired of critics.  What do they know?  All these blamed generals, attacking my boy Rummy.  Soreheads.  Just ‘cause they got canned.  Sure, Rumball’s a little nuts.  Watched Dr. Strangelove a few too many times, mebbe.  Thinks it was a documentary, not a satire.  Never had the heart to correct him.  But he ain’t gonna get fired, not on my watch.  He does what I tell him, or leastways what Cheney tells him, and that’s good enough for me.  So what if once in a while he grabs a sword and goes running up the staircase yellin’ “Charge!”  We all got our little quirks, even me.  I like to take long weekends, and what’s wrong with that?  Like the good book says, “they spinneth not, neither do they toil.”  Well I guess I do my share of spinnin’, but I sure as heck don’t toil.  In fact, I’ve heard tell that so far as the rest of the country’s concerned, that’s probably a good thing.


Wednesday, April 12, 2006

Dear Diry,
I just love my country.  Go figure:  one grandaddy was  a senator, another a filthy rich investment banker.  Generations of Bushes and Walkers have made a ton a dough from war profiteering, crooked finance, and politics.  Just like the SOB Kevin Phillips said in his book, American Dynasty.  And he used to be a Republican.  Judas.  And now in the city of Midland Texas, my “modest” family home has been turned into a museum.  Dedicated to my humble origins!  Pictures of me playin’ little league ball, an’ all.  Hoo boy, sometimes I just gotta laugh.  And there’s me.  Andover, Yale, Harvard.  And as far as the great people of America are concerned, I’m a regular guy.  Somebody they’d like to have a beer with.  How many times have I heard that?  Morons.  For one thing, I’m a mean drunk.  For another, don’t drink beer.  Can’t.  AA, and all that.  So go choke on your own beer, you blamed fools.  And let me run this country – right into the ground.  Like the good book says, “Is not destruction to the wicked? and a strange punishment to the workers of iniquity?"
Job 31:3 By the time I’m done, the wicked are going to be destroyed all right, right along with everybody else.

Tuesday, April 11, 2006

Dear Diry,
Hooboy, I knew it.  Cheney couldn’t get his ceremonial first pitch to the plate!  Bounced it across.  Should have told him to stand on the rubber, but then again, he wouldn’t have known what I was talkin’ ‘bout.  Should have used his shotgun, ‘cept his aim ain’t so good.  Poor old Dickie.  Got booed something awful.  Better him’n me, is what I say.  Plus, he looked more like an ump out there than a player.  That bad boy needs to take a little more exercise.

My Iran deal is goin’ great.  Got the plans all drawn up.  Main thing is to bomb the tarnation outta that place.  Who do they think they are, insulting us, insulting our allies, the Israelis?  When we’re done with ‘em, they won’t be callin’ us the great Satan – they’ll be cryin’ “uncle.”  Rumsfeld says we do the whole thing from the air, no troops at all.  Neat.  Another little victory, just in time for the midterm elections.  SOB WashPost claims 55% of voters plan to vote Democrat in November.  Not if I have anything to do with it.  Victory in Iran will seal the deal for the GOP.  Wonder if they can print me up some banners saying mostly Victory in Iran, with a few q’s tossed in, ‘stead of n’s.  Ask Karl.  Like the good book says, you can fool most everyone just about all the time – and don’t I know it.


Monday, April 10, 2006

Dear Diry,
Missed a coupla days, Diry.  Sorry.  Busy.  Got me a new war to plan!  That’s right, a brand new conflict, comin’ right at ya.  It’s so excitin' to sit down with the boys from the Pentagon, watchin' their eyes light up,  tellin' 'bout what their newest toys can do.  Why, those Iranians (yep, that’s our new war foe, I-rain-ee-ins), they buried their nuke center under 75 feet of bedrock.  Now I understand that bedrock is a real hard kind of rock.  Don’t sound too comfortable though, so why “bed-rock?” Ask Dick.  Anyhow, the Air Force got this bunker buster nuke-tipped bomb that can blast right through bedrock!  Cool.  Funny thing is, the general got all excited talkin’ ‘bout the bunker buster’s capabilities.  All hot and bothered.  Then when I said “great, yeah, let’s do it,” why, I thought the guy was a goin’ to faint.  Got all pale and shaky and had to sit down.  Sorry-ass generals.  Buy ‘em all the toys they ask fer, then they don’t want to play.  I mean, what’s the point of having bunker busters if you don’t use them?  Seems like a waste to me, and like the good book says, “waste not, want not.”


Friday, April 07, 2006

Dear Diry,
Golly, sometimes this job is frustratin’.  Seems like I get misundertaken all the time.  Take this leak thing.  ‘Course I told Cheney it was OK for Scooter to blab classified stuff to Miller.  And why not?  It’s only classified if I say it is, just like it’s not classified the minute I reveal it.  Simple, right?  Well it seems like my Democrat friends don’t seem to understand that basic little thing.  Seems like some people in my own party haven’t figured out that I can do whatever I want to do whenever I want to do it.  That’s why I’m called the Pre-si-dent.  I always come first – “pre” everybody else.  If anybody don’t like what I say or do, all’s they can do is “si” ‘bout it.  And if they don’t sigh right quiet, then I gets to “dent” them.  Too bad some folks ain’t as interested as me in entomology, or they’d have figured out the meaning of my title, just like me.  Like the good book says, the president is “First in war, first in peace, first in the hearts of his countrymen.”  Leastways, I think that’s in the good book.  And if it ain’t, it oughta be.


Thursday, April 06, 2006

Dear Diry,
On the same day the Gospel of Judas is discovered, Scooter Libby goes and tells that SOB Fitzgerald it was me who authorized the leaking of secret intelligence.  Coincidence?  I don’t think so.  This could be a sign.  The writing on the wall.  The beginning of the end.  Well, if it is the apocalypse, everyone else is goin’ with me – wherever I’m going.

And get this: I made Cheney throw the first ball out for the Washington Nationals’ opener.  Oh sure it’s tradition for presidents to thow out the first ball in Washington.  But was I goin’ to go out there on that mound in front of tens of thousands of Democrats and get booed?  That’s why I went to Cincy for their opener instead.  Plenty of Republicans there.  Plus I was surrounded by wounded and bereaved vets.  Ain’t no one gonna boo them. Cheney’s my little old burnt offering.  Can’t wait to see him make a mess of his pitch. Not exactly a prime athlete, is our Dick.  Serves him right.  Payback for Libby.  Only thing that bothers me is what the good book says: “The sacrifice of the wicked is an abomination to the LORD.” 
Proverbs 15:8 On the other hand, “the prayer of the upright is His delight.”  So what with one thing and another, mebbe I better start prayin’…

Wednesday, April 05, 2006

Dear Diry,
On the road again.  Selling personal health accounts, migration (immigration?  Never could work out the difference) bill.  Don’t much care ‘bout either one.  Got me health care.  Got me a green card (don’t I?  Better check on that.)  But it’s the job.  Public service.  It’s a fine thing.  So how come The Daily News is saying 80% of our kids don’t want to be president?  Mebbe I’d do better selling my job than dumb political ideas.  I can tell the kids all ‘bout it.  How you get room service anytime you want.  Every satellite and cable channel in the world, piped right in.  Swimming pool, indoor gym.  Limo service.  Your own 747, for pete’s sakes!  Who wouldn’t want that?  Plenty of vacation time, and you can take it whenever you want to.  Plus, no homework!  Wanna meet sports stars, movie stars?  I can, anytime I want.  And the video games are the best!  Wall size HD screens, with air combat simulators designed by the Air Force itself.  Stealth Attack is the greatest game only I, and actual F117 pilots, get to play.  So come on kids, be president.  It’s a blast, morning ‘till night. 

Yeah. I’d be real good at telling the kids of America ‘bout the greatness of being POTUS.  Secret service agents.  Red carpets.  Like the good book says, “And they had a king over them, which is the angel of the bottomless pit…”
Revelations 9:11 That’s me alright.  And it’s good to be the king.

Tuesday, April 04, 2006

Dear Diry,
Funny how my conservative buds are always goin’ on ‘bout the press.  The boys don’t seem to realize the press is my biggest ally.  Take my trips to Crawford.  Every time I go, like last weekend, it’s “the ranch” this and “the ranch” that.  Makes me look great.  Here’s what’s so funny:  it ain’t no ranch!  Haven’t done a day’s ranching in all my life.  But do they call it “the Bush estate?”  No! If Kerry or Gore had a country spread like mine, it’d be their estate, sure as shootin’.  Not that they’d be caught dead in Crawford, Texas.  Boo hoo for them.

Threw out the first pitch yesterday in Cincy.  Right over the plate, perfect strike.  [It was a ball, wobbly, high, and inside – Ed.]  Doin’ a favor for the Reds’ owner, big time money boy.  And what’s wrong with that?  People pays their money, ought to get something in return for it.  And they always do, from me.  Wonder how come the good book says that money is the root of all evil.  It’s always been real good to me.


Sunday, April 02, 2006

Dear Diry,
Sunday is the Lord’s day, but man oh man, an hour-long sermon?!  Cut into my bike time, big time.  Now, I need instruction as much as the next guy, but I don’t need a whole sermon…  Well, you know what I mean.  Anyhow, the Rev was on about forgiveness and mercy and selflessness (whatever the heck that is), vanity and recklessness, reflection and patience and honesty, about listening to your head as well as your heart, and seeking counsel from the wise, and respecting your elders.  The meek inheriting the earth, the lion lying down with the lamb, turning the other cheek, dum de dum dum, dipsey doodle do.  Got kinda personal too.  Some of my good buddies got offended.  Said “It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God.” 
Mark 10:25 Whispered to Laura that was totally uncalled for.

Then he tried to claim that wisdom is better than rubies! Got to find me a new church.  This Rev’s a Democrat for sure.


Saturday, April 01, 2006
Dear Diry,
I read a book on the flight back from down Mex’co way.  April Fool’s!  Sorry, Diry.  Watched a movie instead.  Cowboy movie.  Kind of confused cowboys too.  Couldn’t figure out if one of ‘em was really a cowgirl in disguise.  Sure seemed like the other cowboy thought so.  Confusin’ movie.  I’ll get Karl to ‘splain it to me.

Had a real good visit with Steve and Vicente.  Nice guys.  They were explaining how in 2000, most people in Canadia and Mex’co approved of the U.S.  Since I took over as POTUS, we got 36% approval in Mex’co and 43% in Canadia.  And I said, that was just one of the many improvements I’ve made since becoming Pres.  Stay tuned for lots more of the same kind.  They looked kinda worried.  And I understand that.  Politics is competitive.  Having such tough competition to the north and south of you can’t be easy.  Seemed reassured when I reminded ‘em I only got ‘till 08, when I can’t run again.  That’s the law.  Like the good book says, “Blessed are the undefiled in the way, who walk in the law of the LORD.”
Psalms 119:1 ‘Course it’s only man’s law that stops me from a third term, not the Lord’s.  Hmm.  Now there's a thought.  Mebbe I'll talk to my new Supremes ‘bout that…

Friday, March 31, 2006

Dear Diry,
Picky, picky.  We get great news from the Interior Dept. – wetlands finally increased last year after shrinking for like, ever.  Now the whiners get all over the report just because the increase was due to new ponds on golf courses and swimming pools overflowing and stuff.  And they say I don’t care about the environment.  You try to do something good, and they shoot you down anyway.  Sometimes it’s hard being me.

Speaking of whiners, what’s up with this censoring thing in Congress?  Why would my enemies want to censor me, for cryin’ out loud?  Cheney’s the one with the potty mouth.  Scalia’s the guy who gives people the finger.  If anyone deserves to be censored, it’s them.  Maybe I mangle the odd sentence, but like the good book says, “when I came to you, came not with excellency of speech or of wisdom”
1 Corinthians 2:1.  And ain’t that the truth.  Don’t seem right to censor a man for not bein’ a slick talker though.

So I give a nice boost to Steve Harper of Canadia, telling all the press down Mex’co way ‘bout how he and me had great talks, and the great relations our two countries have, and all that.  And what does the guy do?  Gets up and answers me IN FRENCH!  Never been so insulted in my life.  Had no clue what he was saying, but it sounded dirty. Talk about somebody who deserves censoring.


Thursday, March 30, 2006

Dear Diry,
Sure is good to be away from Washington.  I’m learning all kinds of stuff on this trip down Mexico way.  For one thing, Vicente don’t like to be called Vic.  For another, Canadians speak English.  Sort of.  Who knew?  Also, and this came as a real surprise, French!  What’s that all about?  Explains a lot about Canadia though. They got a lot of French ideas, like opposing my war, being soft on marijuana, national health system, that kind commie stuff.  Still, I’m getting on pretty good with Steve Harper now that we got the language thing straightened out.  Found out he’s a conservative leader, just like me.  Had a real good talk about football.  Funny thing though, he thinks the field is 110 yards long.  Also that possessions last only three downs!  Didn’t correct him, ‘cause I didn’t want to make him feel dumb.

Vicente has been a great host.  The Mexican food’s not as good as Texas, but they’re tryin’ real hard.  He insists all those hard workin’ Mex’cans up north are helping our economy.  Told him if he fixed his own economy, more of his hard workin’ folk would stay put.  Went to see some old ruins, climbed this thing he kept calling a pyramid.  ‘Course, everybody knows the pyramids are in Egypt, but I shut up ‘bout it.  Didn’t want to hurt his feelings.  Everybody else was real diplomatic about it too.  I said the place would be perfect for a golf course, but he didn’t seem to take to the idea.  The big thing I learned today: the Mexicans got oil!  Lots of it.  Can’t wait to tell Rumsfeld.  Is he gonna feel dumb about sending the troops all the way to Iraq, or what?!


Wednesday, March 29, 2006

Dear Diry,
Down Mexico way for a meetin’ with our neighbors, Steve Harper of Canadia and Vic Fox of Mexico.  Cancun.  Flat, nowheres to mountain bike.  Plus, Karen is making me go see some darn ruins down the coast.  Said I caught too much bad pub. when I blew off the Taj Mahal on my India trip.  Hate ruins.  Hate sightseeing.  Want to go biking.  Can’t.  This is a hard job sometimes, Diry.  Real hard.

Real good meeting with Steve and Vic though.  Sure we don’t see eye to eye on lots of things, trade, border control, Iraq.  ‘Bout everythin’, seemingly.  But I was pretty diplomatic.  Sweet talked ‘em a little.  Told Steve it was a good thing he speaks such good English, ‘cause I never did learn Canadian. Told him I would someday, to better understand our northern neighbor.  He was real surprised – almost dropped his water glass.  Vic was proud as punch to hear how many Mexicans we got working in the White House.  And they work real hard too, cleanin’ the bathrooms, mowing the lawn, doin’ the dishes.  I told him some get more in a week than workers down here earn in a year! That got the room buzzin’, believe you me, ‘specially when I suggested paying their guys more down here so fewer of ‘em would head north.  Reminded him of what the good book says: “The laborer is worthy of his hire.”  That got the meetin’ ended right on time.


Tuesday, March 28, 2006

It’s starting.  The rats are jumping ship.  Wonder who’s next.  I knew old Gale was going to blow town – she’s been itchin’ to go back to corporate lawyering.  Wants to make her gazillions, just like everybody else.  Gee, wonder if her old clients in the oil, chemical, and auto businesses will find it helpful to have a former Interior Secretary acting for them next time they poison more of the environment! Feels good to help out old friends.  Godspeed, Gail Norton. Beat up a few greens in court for me.

Sorry to let go of Andy though.  Andrew Card, man of faith.  Always talked straight, told me just what I wanted to hear, no more, no less.  Good guy.  He had faith in the auto industry --  made a great lobbyist in Washington for 'em ‘fore I hired him.  Now they need him again.  Auto industry’s in tough shape.  All that low-priced labor in North Carolina and Tennessee and Mississippi, building Japanese and Korean and German cars.  This outsourcing thing’s just terrible.  Gotta do something ‘bout it.  Mebbe we should make ‘em pay those workers down south more.  Naw, THAT can’t be right.  Like the good book says, “from each according to his abilities, to each according to his needs.”  Whoa, doggy.  That don’t sound right, neither…


Monday, March 27, 2006

I’m tryin’ to figure out why my poll ratings keep goin’ down.  What’s the matter with everybody?  I cut their taxes. I got ‘em government funded drugs.  I fixed their schools.  I got the economy humming.  I’m fighting for their freedom and secur’ty on two fronts. I tried to fix their social security, but the Dems wouldn’t let me.  The stock market’s rising.  Everything’s goin’ great.  Dick and Condi and Don and Andy, they all say so.  Not one person I talk to says any different.  I mean, look at me.  I’ve got a great health plan, my blind trust is making me richer by the minute (it just so happens this is the time to own defense and oil stocks -- is this a great country, or what!?), I got a great job, great houses to live in, great family. It’s all good.  All my friends say the same.  Yet only a third of the country thinks I’m doin’ a good job, which makes...  Two thirds?  Yeah, that seems right.  Two thirds of the country don’t like my work.  How come they can’t be happy, like me?

Karl says it’s the media, always complaining and criticizing everything.  Must be right too, ‘cause from where I’m sittin’, there’s nothin’ to complain about at all.  Like the good book says, “And having food and raiment, let us be therewith content.”
1 Timothy  6:8 Plenty to eat here at the White House, and I got me the best tailor in town.  But I guess there’s just no pleasing some folk.

Sunday, March 26, 2006

Dear Diry,
Hoo boy, celebrated Greek independence day at the White House.  Had His Eminem the Archbishop in the audience.  What’s up with those birka things?  Don’t see why they can’t dress like Christians.  Good speech though, God and democracy and all.  Told ‘em how much I ‘preciated Greece, for the Olympics, for supportin’ the war on terrr, for the way it keeps hamburger buns moist and tasty.

Didn’t know the Grecians invented democracy.  Read about it somewhere’s.  Told his Eminem it was the first I’d heard tell of it, and he seemed real pleased I found out.  Surprised too.  Funny how everybody always misunderestimates me.  If only people would take the good book more to heart:  “Let nothing be done through strife or vainglory; but in lowliness of mind let each esteem other better than themselves.” 
Philippians 2:3 Minds don't get much lowlier than mine, that's for darn sure.

Saturday, March 25, 2006
Dear Diry,
Mom!  Holy cow, you really did it this time.  Contributed to a Katrina relief fund, but demanded that the money go to brother Neil’s company.  What were you thinking, mom?  That money should have gone to the GOP!

Out around the country on my sell-the-war roadshow.  Not going to San Fran though – this is a strictly domestic trip, no foreigners invited.  Audience member in KY stood up and said thank God you’re our Pres.  Love it when they do that.  I may go down as the worst pres in history, but my White House advance team is the best ever.  And how come I have to work on Saturday, when everybody else goes fishin’?  ‘Cause Dick said I have to.  Know what else I love?  The press.  I really do.  I mean, I tell Helen Thomas a pack of lies at my press con when she demanded to know why we’re in Iraq:  9/11, protecting the country, dum de dum dum.  Anybody writing about all those lies?  NO!  Those press jackals are all talkin’ ‘bout the way Helen’s question HELPED me!  Ohmygosh. Like the good book says, "They that sow in tears, shall reap in joy." 
Psalms, 126:5  And they wonder why I don’t read newspapers.  Can’t.  I’d laugh to death!

Friday, March 24, 2006

Dear Diry,
Went to Pennsylvania to help that prick Rick (good one) Santorum with his Senate reelection bid, even though he keeps criticizing me on the war, and he was a traitor on the ports ruckus.  Raised a ton of money for that creep.  AND HE DOESN’T EVEN SHOW UP TO GREET ME.  Scheduling conflicts, he says.  Well, it takes one to know one, and he’s a flat out liar.  Went to Cleveland to help that swine De Wine (nice!) with his reelection campaign, and the asshole didn’t bother coming to my speech.  I’ve raised millions and millions for my party.  One of my best lines came during a fund raiser, ‘member it, Diry?  “Some call this assemblage the haves and the have mores.  I call you my base.”  OK, so what if I didn’t actually write it --  it was still a great line (and so true.)  Point is, I’m still raising millions and millions, and now my fellow Republicans won’t be seen in public with me.  Take my dough, won’t shake my hand.  In Texas we call that – we call it something.  I’ll ask Karl.  Feeding the hand that bites you?  Doesn’t sound right…  Like the good book says, “when they knew God, they glorified him not as God, neither were thankful; but became vain in their imaginations, and their foolish heart was darkened.”  Romans 1:21

Thankless bastards sure aren’t glorifying me, that’s for sure.  How come nobody likes me anymore?  They used to beg to have their pictures taken with me.  Used to lobby me to come to their boring shindigs.  Many’s the time I just wanted to watch TV and choke on a pretzel or two.  Instead I went and helped my fellow Republicans raise dough for their campaigns.  Is it my mouthwash?  Maybe I need to change my deodorant………


Thursday, March 23, 2006
Dear Diry,
Lunched with the new pres of Liberia.  Seems her country was founded by freed U.S. slaves back in the 1800’s.  Who knew?  Told me the newcomers displaced the natives, and tensions still linger between the two.  Kind of reminded me of another people displacing natives with newcomers, but couldn’t think which.  Told her those freed slaves should’ve come up with a better name.  I mean, Liberia?  Freedonia much better.  Told me she’d talk it over with her advisors.  Seems some guy wrote an account of Saddam’s last days.  Karl told me ‘bout it.  Seems S lived in a bubble, surrounded by… sikkypants?  Sick elephants?  That can’t be right.  Anyhow, surrounded by people too afraid to tell him the truth!  He was so cut off from reality, didn’t even realize our tanks were rolling into Baghdad ‘till they were already there!  I mean, how dumb can a leader be to put himself in a position like that, trapped in his own delusions and his own people’s lies?  Like the good book says, The Truth Shall Make You Free.  Guess old S was reading the wrong book!

Tuesday, March 21, 2006

Dear Diry,
Never tried this before.  Gonna jot down my thoughts.  Who knows, might turn into a book some day.  What’d they give Greenspan, 8 million for his memoirs?  Ridic.  Guy talks even worse than me.  I’ll get twice as much.  Buy me another ball club.  Mebbe Cuba’s!  Mebbe not.  So here goes.  Press con today, hate press cons.  But I did good. Squashed that old bat Helen Thomas, like a bug.  Asked me why we really went to Iraq.  Let her have it, the usual, freedom, Saddam, liberty, terrorism, freedom, hah hah.  Dumb bunny.  Oil’s why we went to Iraq.  Duh.  HELLO!  Some blabbermouth called US occupied Iraq an army base on top of an oil field.  Little too close to the truth for comfort.  ‘Cept we got over a dozen bases on top that oil field!  Note to self:  get that blabbermouth.  They say I’m dumb.  Well if they’re so smart, how come nobody noticed how our GPR [Global Posture Review --Ed.] puts all our new bases around the world near oil reserves.  Duh.  ‘Cept for that Col. Smith in the ASIA TIMES.  I’ll get him too.

Like the good book says “Then Samuel took a vial of oil, and poured it upon his head, and kissed him, and said, Is it not because the LORD hath anointed thee to be captain over his inheritance?” 1 Samuel 10:1

That’s me, Captain Oil.  The Man.  Even that SOB Kurtz in the Washington Post had to admit the TV types were all calling me forceful and combative after the press con.  And who says I don’t read newspapers.  Dick said I did great.  So did Condi.  Dick says I can take my bike out tomorrow.  Cool!  9:30 already?  Late.  Tired. Mebbe more tomorrow.  So long, diry.



©Joshua C. Nossiter, 2007
Home
Archives
Now a Member of the Worldwide Communities of Blogs at Blogwise.com