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January 18, 2002
Are they hiding something?
Envision this scene in one of the lounges at the White House:
Prez: Hey, Dick! C'mon in! Watch some football!
VP: Mr. President, there's something I want to talk about with you.
Prez: Shure! C'mon in! Get yerself a Bud Light. Sit with me. The Packers are on.
VP: Mr. President, perhaps you aren't sensing the severity of the situation. One of your largest campaign contributers, Enron, has just gone belly up.
Prez: Yeah. Damned shame. Guess their Fourth of July party is out this year. God, I loved those parties. They knew how to party.
VP: A little too much partying, Mr. President, yes. I was wondering... oh fuck it. George, are you a fucking moron? I mean, I know you were stupid and easy to manipulate, but are you really *that* stupid?
Prez: Um... uh... um... Wha-?
VP: (pointing) That! Just like that! Can't even string a sentence together!
Prez: Um... uh...
VP: Fuck, do you even know your own middle name?
Prez: Dubya?
VP: No, you fuckwit. That's the press' nickname for you because they were too kind to call you a Wuss or a Shrub.
Prez: I kinda like Dubya.
VP: You would. (sighs) That's it. I've had enough.
Prez: Enough of what? Wanna watch some football? Pretzel?
VP: Frankly, Mr. Bush, I just want you to die.
VP tries to strangle Bush, pushing his face into the rug and squeezing, but his old frail body isn't strong enough to finish the task before the Secret Service come in and save the president.
Agent #1: Damn, we should've sent Ashcroft. He's younger.
Agent #2: He wouldn't do it. Something about having to beat some babies with clubs.
Posted by KinCross at January 18, 2002 08:20 PM