Kosher Eucharist / יוקאריסט כשר

Here is my problem with George Bush:

He is so universally reviled that I can’t say anything about it. The man’s approval rating recently dipped below that of Jimmy Carter (who should have remained a peanut farmer in Plains, Georgia) to tie with the hilariously abysmal Watergate numbers of Nixon - bottoming out with the loud screech of a muffler scraping asphalt. Only Truman, who actually Pushed The Button, has gotten a lower approval rating since the Gallup poll was initiated during King Franklin’s reign.

Okay. So? Comfortably over half the people in the country hate the man. The most positive impression anyone in my sphere has of him is a kind of slothful disgust. So? I can’t add to this. What else is there to say? I’m increasingly fascinated by the endless ability of hippies and Europeans to keep talking about him. They don’t get tired of it! It’s like a woman talking about female trouble, except while women are constrained, marginally, by believability (”Her ovary got so swollen it eventually burst out of her body”), the hippies and Europeans will say anything about George Bush and believe each other.

“Dude, did you know he has a familiar in the form of a white toad with a child’s face? He makes Condoleezza hold it up during press conferences.”

“Zis does not surprise me. Ve have heard she gives it suck from a poppet during the Armistice Day black mass.”

What… how could I compete with this? Anything I said would just be too obscure (you know, with familiars and poppets and all that). The other card in play in my “I can’t really talk bad about him despite how I feel” hand is peer pressure. I’m so used to having “extreme” opinions (”Bring back the pillory! Nuke Beirut! A martini does not contain vodka!”) that I cannot make myself express mainstream sentiments. The minute I open my mouth to say “I hate the son-of-a-frigid-cunt,” my childhood self rears up and demands that I continue to be the weird kid and refuse to conform. My tongue cleaves to the roof of my mouth, and can only be unlocked by the phrase “I want to drown Ayelet Waldman in a bucket of Midori Sour.”

Finally, I can’t badmouth him because I hate the puerile, and the people for whom anti-Bush is their anti-drug wallow in it. Have you seen the “Good bush, bad Bush” t-shirts, with the president’s face next to a snatch? How do I even attack that? You like cunt hair more than a dynastic presidency, fine. Don’t tell me. I can tell that you loved Scary Movie 4 just by looking at your shirt. Go somewhere and get stoned and do something stupid in the misguided hope that it’ll get you pussy. And even this imbecility pales in comparison with the “bushitler” campaign. George Bush mishandled a natural disaster, deceived a nation, botched what should have been an easy war, and has enriched the powers of his office at the expense of the constitution, judiciary, and Congress, and for these he should be damned. However, Hitler started a war that lead to the death of, at a conservative estimate, 62 million people, looted or destroyed the cultural heritage of a continent, tried to exterminate several ancient peoples, and brought the wrath and opprobrium of the world on his country. There is no comparison except in the minds of fools.

So, in conclusion, he’s an asshole, but we’re not talking about it. Happy Armistice Day, and happy birthday, Mom.