“Not another Osama bin Laden video,” Bush grumbled, “These are always so boring!”
“But this one is particularly disturbing,” the ominous figure of Karl Rove intoned.
“I already watched most of it, and he’s basically just spouting Democrat talking points. I even saw him reading from a Kerry 2004 pamphlet at one point.” Bush looked to the screen again. “Now he’s to his stupid book review segment again.”
“I really recommend Rogue State,” Osama said, “It’s quite an eye-opener. For lighter fair, Dude, Where’s My Country is quite funny. Right now, I’m reading the new Stephen King novel and I’ll have a review on that soon. Also, when the final Harry Potter book is released, expect a threatening tape soon after with my review.”
Osama put back on his threatening face. “Now, Americans, I offer you a truce. I know we haven’t really attacked you at home since 9/11, but we will again – this time for real. We’re having a little trouble setting up, though… which reminds me: Bush’s NSA wiretaps are totally illegal and should be stopped. Make sure you support a Congressional investigation of that and expect our new attack as soon as you get Bush to stop his illegal surveillance.”
“There, the tape is over,” Bush state, “Can I got back to watching Scrubs, now?”
“I don’t think you’ve seen the problem with Osama’s new strategy,” Rove uttered.
“What? He just sounds like any Democrat… complete with impotent threats to stop me.”
The hooded figure of Karl Rove crept out of the shadows. “And do people fear Democrats?”
Bush thought for a moment. “According to recent polls, Democrats are the least feared thing in the nation… ranking lower than babies, Chihuahuas, and baby Chihuahuas.”
“So, if people start associating Osama with Democrats…”
Bush leapt to his feet. “People will stop fearing him and put their guard down! That insidious, bearded bastard!”
“Now you know what you must do…” Rove faded back in the shadows.
Bush stood alone in his office. “I never know what I’m supposed to do.”
“I’ve called this meeting to combat a growing problem,” Bush announced, “Due to Osama bin Laden sounding just like any powerless Democrat, people are no longer fearing terrorists. We need a solution now!”
“We could commit our own act of terrorism and blame it on Al Qaeda,” Alberto Gonzales proposed.
“That’s a great idea, my torturing Mexican friend!” Bush exclaimed, “One which I can think of no problems with… morally or otherwise!”
“I have some explosives in my car if you want them,” Condi said.
“Cool! This plan is coming together!”
“This is spiffy and all,” Rumsfeld grumbled, “but when do I get my war with Iran?”
“You have to finish your current wars before you get a new one,” Bush shot back. “Any other comments?”
“I just would like to suggest that maybe committing an act of terrorism on our own soil is a bad idea,” Scott McClellan said. “If this is found out, I don’t know how I’ll spin this one to the press.”
“You won’t,” Bush answered, “because you’ll be in jail since you helped me do the bombing.”
“What? I’m not helping you do this!”
“You have to,” Bush stated, “We’re the only ones without anything useful to do.”
“Press conferences are useful!”
“Come on,” Condi said. “We don’t have any evidence that anyone other than bloggers ever pay attention to those.”
“Well, I’m not blowing up anything where people will get hurt,” Scott state adamantly.
Bush thought for a moment. “I have the perfect place.”
“We’re blowing up the Kennedy compound?” Scott exclaimed.
Bush crept through the darkness. “Yeppers.”
“But you said we wouldn’t hurt any people.”
“Kennedys ain’t people.”
Scott snuck past some trees. “Man, I’m supposed to be giving a press conference right now.”
“Don’t worry,” Bush said, “I got you a good replacement.”
“Increasingly, Democrats are calling the NSA wiretaps illegal. How does the White House respond?”
“Yipe! Yipe!” Bush’s Scotty dog Barney responded.
“I don’t think you’re answering the question.”
Barney charged the reporter.
“Ahh! He’s biting my nads! It’s like Mike McCurry all over again!”
“So where are we planting the explosives?” Scott asked as they got near the front of the compound.
Lying unconscious among numerous empty whiskey bottles on the porch was Ted Kennedy. “There lies the answer,” Bush said with a smile.
“Boston was put in a complete panic today as a pants-less, bomb-laden Ted Kennedy wandered the streets,” the news anchor said. “No one knows what his demands are, as his speech is completely incomprehensible. Efforts to bring him down with bean bag bullets have only angered the already confused Kennedy. Some worry this bomb threat may be a new DNC tactic, and police warn to approach all Democrats with caution.”
Bush turned off the TV. Just then, the hooded figure of Karl Rove emerged from the shadows. “People now fear Democrats, and thus they fear Osama as well. You have succeeded. As a reward, I have brought you the ancient cookie of victory.”
Bush snatched the sweet immediately. “Woo-hoo! Chocolate chip!”
Ancient cookie of victory? Wow.
Oh… first!!
Arrgh!! someone beat me to first. FRANK!! When are you doing a hard copy of this stuff?!?!? I’d buy it dude!!
sarasmom,
The first compilation is being worked on.
Pure literary genius…
That is all.
Frank, you should so totally have a blog.
That’s it! No more eating or drinking while reading Frank’s IMW.
Can’t we at least get a Surgeon General’s warning label or something?
Soon, my county will ban IMW in all public places…
“Ahh! He’s biting my nads!”
Priceless.
Note to self: Teach Mrs. Azlib’s Chihuahua’s to bite nads on command. Find someone else’s nads to practice on.
“a pants-less, bomb-laden Ted Kennedy wandered the streets”
LOL! I never thought that imagine would be so funny!
I was waiting for the dog to unzip his Barney suit and have Chomps jump out. But being bitten in the nads by a scotty is actually funnier than a mauling (but you knew that already, didn’t you?). I really love the image of a pants-less, bomb-laden Kennedy staggering through the streets of Boston!!
umm…
that was actually pretty dumb.
I’m disappointed that Bush didn’t directly take care of the issue and actually detonate the bomb-laden Kennedy. I imagine the bits would burn for days with the saturation of Dewars in his cells.
Funny as all hell though.
Frank don’t yell at your wife just because you have a headache. She cooks and cleans and….well you know, at least you could try to appreciate her
That doesn’t sound like my dad. He knows when a woman needs a yelling at.
For lighter fair?
Frank, aren’t you the one with the really high verbal SAT score?
The return of regular IMW features? WOOHOO! Hail RUMMY!