John Hawkins has the First Annual Warbloggers Awards. At least I got mentioned (tied for third for funniest blog – Damn you ScrappleFace! …and Laurence …and somewhat Lileks and Tim Blair). Anyway, I liked the results (except who thinks that Bill Whittle is overrated?), and most of the blogs I voted for did well. Congratulations to the winners.
Both Emperor Misha and Rachel Lucas have some informative notes for those who read their sites.
Archive of entries posted on 10th February 2003
In My World: Bush Likened to Cowboy
President Bush seemed to signal war was approaching, saying Saddam “wants the world to think that hide-and-seek is a game that we should play. And it’s over.”
He then added, “and, the way we play hide-and-seek in Texas, after we find him, we beat him with sticks.”
He then had a meeting with French Prime Minister Jacques Chirac in a last ditch effort to make the Prime Minister see his point of view. It did not go well.
“After the meeting, Chirac described you as being a cowboy. How do you respond?” asked a reporter at a press conference held afterwards.
“I object to that.”
“Well, couldn’t you admit that the way you lassoed Chirac, shot those accompanying him with a single-action revolver, and then yelled, “Yee-haw!” while riding a horse off into the sunset with a bunch of stolen French cattle could be construed as the actions of a ‘cowboy’?”
“Well, yeah,” Bush admitted, “I was just objecting to the way he said – like it was a bad thing. Who in the world doesn’t like being a cowboy? I’m starting to think that Chirac may be… what’s the word… homosexual. And I don’t mean that in that he is ‘happy and merry’. I mean that in that’s he’s gay.” Karl Rove then whispered in his ear. “But I don’t mean that in a bad way.”
“So are you factoring in France’s and Germany’s opinions?”
“Nah, honestly I just went to France to steal me some French cattle. I hate those guys. They make me think of that kid in class who would remind the teacher to give us homework. I beat that kid up, and that’s still my policy.”
“Are you pretty set on war, then?”
“Hell, yeah. I hate that Osama and finally want to kill that bastard.”
“Don’t you mean Saddam, the leader of Iraq?” one reporter corrected.
Bush looked more confused than usual. “Hell, I dunno. Bad people are going to die, so be happy!” He then shook his fist at the reporters. “Rumsfeld and Condi are in charge of this anyway. What they want is going to happen, because they’re much smarter and more powerful than me; they’re like Darth Sidious and Darth Maul.”
“And would that make you Jar Jar Binks?” a reporter quipped.
Bush looked enraged. Karl Rove then whispered in his ear and he calmed down and smiled. “That’s pretty clever of you… Jar Jar Binks… that’s a funny one… going to be laughing about that one for…”
“I’LL MURDER YOU DEAD!” Bush finally screamed and leapt on the hapless reporter. “I’m the President of the United States of America!” he yelled as he pounded the man’s head into the ground, “The most powerful man in the world! I can have you declared an enemy combatant and deport your family to Syria!”
The Secret Service wrestled Bush away from the man, but, as Bush was pulled to his feet, he quickly calmed down, straightened his tie and jacket, and tossed the reporter a blank pardon before walking off.
“He was just playing around,” Whitehouse Press Secretary Ari Fleischer later told the press, “So there is no reason to sue him, unless you’re some sort of crybaby… or hate not being injected with a drug that makes it look like you had a heart attack.” He then glared at the press threateningly.
“What about when the president allegedly beat up Sen. John Edwards and threw his shoes onto a telephone wire. Was he just playing then?”
Fleischer laughed. “I guess Mr. ‘Regular Guy’ caught a regular beating.” Fleischer then glanced at his watch. “The Simpsons are coming on, so screw you guys.”