After a long day of shooting and getting shot at in Iraq, Buck the Marine headed back to camp. When he got there, he ran into the last thing he wanted to deal with… Democrats!
“We’re here to support the troops,” Harry Reid said with Nancy Pelosi standing behind him smiling her eerie, inhuman smile.
This can’t be good, Buck thought but didn’t say, trying to be respectful to the things from Congress. They were part of the federal government who paid for the Buck’s bullets which he would then deposit into foreigners. “I appreciate the support.”

“Not so fast!” Nancy shrieked. “You don’t get our support so easily!”
“We have to get something out of it first!” Reid looked Buck over and pointed to the object in Buck’s hand. “What’s that?”
“It’s a Nintendo DS. It has a touchscreen,” Buck explained. “When I get bored because there’s no shooting, I shoot people on it.”
“Well, I want it!” Reid turned to Pelosi. “Let’s add to the ‘Support the Troops’ bill that I get Buck’s Nintendo DS.”
Pelosi wrote in a notepad. “And I want his DVDs. We’ll put that in the bill too.”
“Hey! You can’t just take my stuff!”
“We’re just trying to support the troops!” Reid seized Buck’s rifle. “Until we’re allowed to support the troops in our own way, you get no funding! That means no rifle and no bullets!”
“But that’s what I use to kill for’ners!”
“And take off that body armor!” Pelosi yelled. “We’re renting that, but you don’t get it anymore until our demands are met.”
Buck took off the body armor. “This seems like an odd way to support the troops.”
Reid grabbed the body armor. “Are you questioning our patriotism?!”
“No; I’m sorry.” Buck thought for a moment. “So, if I give you guys my Nintendo DS and my DVDs, will you give me my rifle and body armor back?”
Pelosi nodded. “Exactly… but we also want $24 million for sugar beets.”
“Uh… sugar beets?”
“And $640 million for LIHEAP!” Reid said.
“I don’t even know what that is.”
“You don’t need to.” Reid adjusted his tie. “All you need to know is that’s part of what it will cost to get us to support the troops.”
“I don’t have that kind of money; I’m just a simple Marine who likes shooting for’ners.”
Pelosi smiled to the point that it looked like her skin was going to snap. “If you want to continue your mission here, you better tell Bush to give us everything we demand!”
“Well… I’ll try.” Buck was upset, but politics wasn’t his job. Shooting foreigners was. “If you get everything you ask for, I can get my rifle back?”
Reid nodded. “Yes, you’ll get our support and your funding… assuming you agree to surrender.”
“Surrender? To you?”
“No, to… uh…” Reid thought for a moment. “Whoever it is you’re supposed to be fighting here.”
Buck was starting to get upset. “But I don’t want to surrender!”
“Then you get no funding and you’ll die here!” Reid shouted. “Muh ha ha ha!”
“Our demands must be met if you troops want any chance to survive!” Pelosi screamed. “Everything we want is outlined here!” She handed a list of demands to Buck.
He scanned through them. “A hundred million in unmarked bills and a fueled helicopter waiting for you! And a list of political prisoners you want released!” Buck glared at the two Democrats. “Are you sure you’re not terrorists?”
Reid laughed. “We’re Democrats; there’s well established precedent of negotiating with Democrats when we threaten the livelihood of Americans!”
Buck shook his head. “I’m never going to understand politics.”

“Four years,” President Bush said. “Who would have ever thought this war would last four years?”
“I would have thought five,” Dick Cheney said.
Bush waved his torch around to light the walls of the underground crypt. “What are we doing here again?”
“Halliburton board meeting.”
Bush looked back at the little goat he had on a leash. “Wait a second. You didn’t ask me to bring Petey the goat so you could sacrifice him, did you?”
“If you like him so much, we’ll let you bring home his head.” They came to a large cavern with a number of giant blue flames. The flames grew brighter and out each one emerged a sinister hooded figure. “To evil!” they shouted.
“To evil!” Cheney answered.
“Evil! Yay!” said a young woman.
Bush turned around to see a woman in a business suit with an inappropriately short skirt. He leaned over to whisper to Cheney, “Uh… who is she?”
“We were starting to get some pressure about how all of our board are white males — the most evil kind of human — so we went to a number of strip clubs until we found a woman willing to work for Halliburton.”
“Wow! A baby goat!” she exclaimed. “Are we starting a petting zoo?”
“You’re still not allowed to talk, Candy,” Cheney said.
“I just wanted to say I’m getting sick and tired of all you!” Bush shouted. “You guys told me that Halliburton could steal all the oil in Iraq within six months and then you’d blow up the entire country and blame it on Belgium!”
“Who’s Belgium?” Candy asked.
“Now it’s four years later,” Bush continued, “and we’re still in Iraq and everyone is yelling at me and telling me I’m a bad President.”
“We decided more evil could be done by extending things out,” one of the hooded figures said.
“Why?” Bush yelled. “How does that make you any money?”
“Don’t forget the Halliburton motto,” Cheney said. “‘Evil before profit!'”
“We are trying to destabilize the entire region!” stated one of the board. “Soon its famine and pestilence will spread to the rest of the world!”
“Are you guys talking about that thing on TV with all the yelling people and the sand?” Candy asked.
Cheney sighed. “Is it the ‘no’ or the ‘talking’ part of your instructions that’s given you trouble?”
“If you ruin everything there, then what will happen with our oil supply?” Bush asked.
“We’re working on alternative fuel sources,” hissed one of the cloaked. “We already have a car that runs on the pain-filled cries of puppies.”
“How about a car that runs on cola,” Candy suggested. “You can get that pretty cheap at Wal-Mart.”
“How is that evil?” Cheney demanded.
Candy slapped her forehead. “Oh yeah. I keep forgetting the evil!”
“Know what? I’m done with you guys!” Bush shouted. “I’m starting to think that you guys are evil, and that’s not what I want for administration.”
“Fool!” a board member yelled. “You dare defy us! We shall — OW! THE GOAT BIT ME!”
“I think Petey has it right,” Bush said. “We’re out of here. From now on, we’re only listening to the Zionist conspiracy. You guys are nothing but evil… and a bit slutty. Come on, Petey; let’s go back to the White House and pick out some attorneys to fire.” He walked away, taking his goat with him.
“That was to be our sacrifice to our master Satan!” a cloaked man yelled.
“Do you think that slutty remark was aimed at me?” Candy asked. “Just because I was a stripper doesn’t mean I’m a slut. That’s one of those stereo things. We should make him and his family pay for his impotence!”
“‘Impudence,'” Cheney corrected her. “This is why I said we should have invested more time in out mind control device instead of picking out a leader we thought would be dumb and easy to manipulate. What do we do now?”
“How about we go have lunch at T.G.I. Friday’s?” Candy said. “I know it’s not evil, but they have great appetizers.”
Cheney shrugged. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Mr. President, what’s going on?” Tony Snow asked.
“Shh!” Bush held a knife ready to cut a rope that came through the window of the Oval Office. “I’m trying to drop a piano on Chuck Hagel. This took a lot of time to set up, so don’t screw it up! I even had to convince the staff I wanted a new piano and the only way to get was to bring it up through the window here.”
Tony looked around. “They took out a wall.”
“Yeah, and then I had to set up a dummy corporation, get it listed on NASDAQ, rough it through a trouble quarter, and finally get enough credibility that I could have it offer a humanitarian award to Chuck Hagel that’s about to awarded to him right below this piano.”
“Did this corporation have any employees?” Tony asked.
“It won’t tomorrow.” Bush watched out the window. “Now!” He sliced the rope and outside there was a loud, musical crash followed by a scream. “Aww… I only got his leg.” He closed the window. “Well, I did my best. So, did you need something, Snowman?”
“Well… there’s… um… you know there’s a huge crowd gasping in horror out there?”
“There pretty much always is. Just ignore them. Now spit it out, Tony.”
He held out some papers. “There’s some domestic business to handle–”
“What?! Haven’t I done enough presidenting for one week?! I thought this was going to be about ice cream?”
“Um… ice cream?”
“Yeah. Like maybe you had some ice cream for me.”
“Huh?”
Bush sighed. “You are so stupid, Snowman. So, what is this domestic business?”
“Well, apparently, when you last visited Mexico, you left the gate open when you came back and a ton of Mexicans flooded in.”
Bush laughed. “Yeah, I ‘accidentally’ left it open. There’s nothing I love more than flooding this country with Mexicans. Know who I hate, Snowman?”
“The American people?”
“Yep. They’re whiny.”
Harry Reid stormed into the room. “We Democrats have our new plan for your war.” He slammed the plan down on Bush’s desk.
Bush looked the plan over. “This isn’t a war plan! This is a losing plan!” Bush leaped over the desk and grabbed Reid. “I told you I don’t want to hear anymore of you Democrats and losing!” He started slamming Reid’s head into the desk over and over while screaming, “No losing! No losing!” After a few seconds, he stopped and looked at Tony. “Slamming his head into the desk just isn’t working anymore. I think I need to slam the desk into his head. You hold him still on the ground and then I’ll push the desk over on top of his face.”
Reid struggled free and ran away. “You’re crazy! You even tried to hit Nancy Pelosi with a car!”
“I thought she was a muskrat!” Bush shouted back. “If you ever come here again to talk about losing, I’ll murder you dead!”
“I don’t think that’s the way to get bipartisan support, sir,” Tony said.
Bush sat back behind his desk. “I’m going to flood Nevada with Mexicans; that will teach him.”
Tony noticed a weird device on a shelf. “What’s this?”
“I heard all about this thing called global warming,” Bush explained, “so I bought that to measure my carbon footprint.”
Tony looked at it more careful. “The meter is all the way at maximum.”
“Yeah, I was burning tires in here earlier. Carbon is important for life, you know; we’re carbon-based lifeforms.”
“I had heard that. Anyway, Mr. President, what should we do about the new flood of illegal immigrants?”
“The usual. Give them the jobs of hardworking Americans and tell anyone who complains to stop hating brown people.”
Tony sighed. “I love press conferences.” He slowly walked out of the Oval Office.
“Next time you come back, make sure you have ice cream!” Bush went back to reading his comic books. “Idiot.”

“The supervillian Lewis Libby, better known as ‘The Scooter’ has finally been brought to justice,” the anchorman announced. “Though he was found not guilty on charges of trying to mutate D.C.’s population by contaminating the water supply, trying to take over the world through mind control embedded in pop songs, and holding Canada hostage with a stolen Russian nuclear bomb, he was convicted for lying during an investigation of the outing of a non-secret agent.”
The TV showed The Scooter being brought to jail. “No prison can hold me!” he shouted. “You’ll pay for this! You all will! I’ll lie in investigations of non-crimes until all society falls apart! Muh ha ha ha!”
On screen came Patrick Fitzgerald. “I want everyone to know that there is no need for further indictments now that The Scooter is behind bars. You can finally all sleep soundly tonight, citizens.” He then fired his grappling gun into the air and zipped away.
President Bush turned off the TV and shivered. “To think that such a monster had been a part of my administration!”
“I just can’t believe anyone thought I had anything to do with him,” Dick Cheney said.
Bush nodded. “That is crazy. You can’t be evil; you love kittens.”
“I do love kittens.” Cheney reached into a bowl of kittens, took a handful of them, and swallowed them whole. “Mmm… fresh kittens.”
“And then people were also besmirching the character of Karl Rove!” Bush exclaimed. “Sweet cuddly Rover who loves children so much!”
“Only their souls,” hissed a voice in the shadows.
“Well, we have to be more careful who we associate with,” Bush said. “Anyway, I have Ann Coulter coming over to help write my next speech.”
Cheney dipped a kitten in ranch dressing. “I thought she was busy leading hordes of college Republicans to beat up gay people.”
“Oh yeah.” Bush shrugged. “That’s why Coulter is worth the price; you get more than just a speech from her.”
There was a knock at the door of the Oval Office. Bush answered and outside stood John Edwards. “Ann Coulter said mean things about me, so please help me raise $100,000.”
Bush reached for his wallet. “Sure thing, Kenneth.”
“Kenneth? Who do you think I am?”
Bush stared at him. “Aren’t you that nice kid from 30 Rock?”
“I’m former Senator John Edwards!”
“What?” Bush put his wallet away. “I bet you have more than $100,000 in your wallet right now! What would you use the money for, anyway? Add another wing to the doghouse behind your mansion?”
“I’m actually more of a cat person.”
Bush sighed. “Of course you are.”
“Was that a slur!” Edwards shouted.
“No, but I’m thinking of some!” Bush punched Edwards in the nose and slammed the door. He then turned to Cheney and said proudly, “I punched John Edwards in the nose.”
“I saw. Very decisive.”
“So what’s next? Do the Democrats have a new plan for failure in Iraq?”
“No, just an old plan with a new name. They’re calling it a ‘Reverse-Momentum Surge.'”
“Ooh!” Bush rifled through his desk drawer. “I should trick sign with invisible ink! That should be hilarious!”
“I don’t know if they’ll fall for that a tenth time.”
Air raid sirens started blaring. “Aieee!” Bush ducked behind his desk. “The Scooter has escaped!”
The Scooter smashed through the window on his flying rocket hover scooter. “Knoxville is the capital of Tennessee!”
Bush stood up and pointed an accusing finger at The Scooter. “That’s a lie! You’re just lucky I’m not conducting a federal investigation!”
“Muh ha ha ha!” The Scooter laughed as he flew away.
Cheney surveyed the damage. “Well… that could be trouble. So where is the nearest microwave?”
“You’re not melting cheese on a kitten!”

“Yay! Pudding cup time!” President Bush exclaimed as he eagerly tore off the plastic cover and grabbed a spoon. “Nothing better than pudding cup time.”
“We need to talk to you!” Harry Reid and John Murtha barged into the Oval Office.
“Hey! No one is supposed to bother me during pudding cup time… unless it’s about pudding!”
“We have important things to discuss with you!” Reid said.
“No you don’t! You’re Democrats!” Bush pulled his pudding cup close to him so they wouldn’t steal it.
“You’re going to lose this war and we’ll make sure!” Murtha said. “We passed a non-binding resolution in the House against your surge!”
“You’re a surge!” Bush shouted.
“You’re wit is as sharp as always,” Reid said, “but that won’t save you when I finally get my cloture vote to pass a non-binding resolution against you in the Senate!”
“You’ll never get a cloture vote because you have no penis!”
“You have no proof of that!”
Bush waved his pudding spoon at them. “You Democrats are bad bad people! Did either of you think of how this sort of thing will affect the troops?”

“I heard the Democrats passed a non-binding resolution,” Gomez the Marine said as he patrolled a street in Iraq. “Any idea what that is?”
“No,” Buck the Marine answered, “but I’m guessing from context it’s some sort of homosexual sex act.”

“Enough talk!” Murtha shouted. He held up a piece of paper. “This is a non-binding arrest warrant for your illegal warring! Now I’m going put you in non-binding cuffs.” He placed handcuffs on Bush that promptly fell off. “Just wait until your non-binding trial when I read all these non-binding charges in this non-binding binder!” He held up a binder and all the papers fell out of it.
“Why are your pants around your ankles?” Bush asked. “Is your belt-buckle non-binding?”
“That plant is laughing at me!” Murtha shouted and pointed.
Bush looked where Murtha was pointing. “That’s a desk lamp.”
“What Murtha is trying to say,” Reid said, “is that you best declare your loss and end your war now! We Democrats will pester you until you have no hope but to–”
“Aieee!” Murtha screamed and jumped out the window.
“What was that about?” Bush asked.
Reid shrugged. “Who knows.”
“You ever thought about putting him in a home?”
“Well… we’re looking at a few different options… Anyway, your war is lost and there is nothing you can do to keep we Democrats from surrendering! Muh ha ha ha ha!” Reid then stood there for a moment. “Murtha had the car keys; can you call me a cab back to the Capitol?”
“No!” Bush threw a stapler at Reid who fled out the door. “Back to pudding cup time!” Bush was about to take a spoonful, but Condoleezza Rice rushed in and grabbed the pudding cup.
“Pudding cup time is over. You have to work on foreign affairs!”
“Nooooooooooo!” Bush yelled and pounded his desk. “Hey, Condi, which party controls Congress right now?”
“The Democrats.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
“Then why do they seem even more useless than before?”

“The Democrats and the terrorists have never agreed on anything,” Representative John Murtha told the press, “Well, we both think that the Iraq war was a mistake, we oppose America acting unilaterally, we hate President Bush and everything he stands for, and we use troop deaths as an indication that our views are correct – but other than all that, we Democrats and the terrorists are complete opposites on everything. That is until today when we’ve come together to oppose Bush’s new troop escalation.”
“Bush is an infidel and a joooo!” the terrorist next to Murtha shouted.
Murtha chuckled. “Exactly. That why the terrorists and I have come up with a plan to finally end the war in Iraq. I call it the ‘slow-bleed’ strategy. At home, we Democrats will use our legislative powers to limit the number of troops available for Bush’s war. In Iraq, the terrorists will use their guns and bombs to also limit the number of troops available. Together, we’ll make sure that eventually there will be no troops in Iraq.”
The press was stunned silent. One reporter finally said, “Uh… I’m from the New York Times, and even I think that might be treason.”
“Treasonous like a fox!” Murtha said.
“New York is full of joooos!” the terrorist added.
Another reporter stepped forward. “I’m Melinda Hawkish from FOX News, and I have a question for the terrorist.”
“What is it, filthy harlot?” the terrorist asked.
Melinda pulled out a gun and shot the terrorist in the kneecaps. She then took out a package of uncooked bacon and began shoving it into the terrorists mouth. “You want bacon? You want bacon?”
“That’s unnecessarily combative!” Murtha shouted.
Melinda dropped the bacon. “Well, the only other questions FOX News is allowing me to ask are about Anna Nicole Smith.”
“This press conference is over!” Murtha said. “Death to America!”

Somewhere in Iraq, Buck the Marine was watching the news on TV with fellow Marines. “You ever get the feeling some of the America people and politicians don’t support us?” Buck asked.
“It’s not like they want us dead,” Gomez said. “They just want us to lose and be humiliated.”
“I thought I once heard that Murtha was a Marine,” Johnson said.
“That’s just a lie the enemy put out there to demoralize us,” Buck responded. “Don’t believe a word of it.”

“I would like to announce I’m now officially running for president,” Rudy Giuliani announced to a cheering crowd of Republicans. “Terrorists came to my city, and now it’s time for me to come after them. The way to do that is to become president.” He held up a blood-stained tire iron. “See the blood on this. I saw someone who looked like a terrorist on the way over here and I beat him to death with this tire iron. That’s how much I hate terrorists. If elected president, I promise to personally kill terrorists. You will constantly see me caked in blood and you can be sure that it will be the blood of terrorists… or possibly panhandlers.”
“Will you also kill hobos?” a Republican asked.
“Only if they panhandle.”
“Killing terrorists is great, but what about your stance on abortion?” said another Republican.
“I understand there is some concern from many Republicans about my support for keeping abortion legal,” Rudy said, “I want you to know that I am not changing my position on that; who I am is who I am, and you should know I won’t change my positions just to help myself politically. But I don’t want people to think I’m some sort of pro-abortion fanatic. To prove that, I’m inviting a pregnant woman to stand next to me.”
A pregnant woman walked on to the stage and Rudy stood next to her, occasionally glancing towards her uncomfortably. “See. I’m perfectly fine not aborting that baby,” he said. “I’m not fanatic.”
“The way you’re looking at her… it kinda seems like you really want to abort that baby,” a Republican said.
“That’s ridiculous.” He shushed the woman away. “Now, I think that should be enough to let conservatives know that it’s okay to vote for me.”
“But what about guns?” a Republican asked. “Don’t you want to take them away from people?”
“That’s absurd. I respect gun rights.”
“But aren’t you taking away that guy’s gun right now?”
Rudy looked down at the gun in his hands he had just taken from someone of the crowd. “I simply took it so I could look at and admire the gun.”
“So why don’t you give it back now?”
Rudy paused for a moment. “Maybe later.” He put the gun in his coat pocket.
“I knew it!” shouted a Republican. “Rudy Giuliani is an abortion-loving, gun-grabbing liberal!”
“Who will personally beat terrorists to death with a tire iron!” Rudy shook his bloody tire iron in the air to applause of the crowd.

“It’s going to be tough to run against Rudy Giuliani,” President Bush told his wife as he turned off the TV. “I better get started on my campaigning now if I want to be reelected in 2008.”
“You can’t reelected in 2008, dear,” Laura told him.
“Oh yeah… because my poll numbers are so low, right?”
Laura rolled her eyes. “Yes, because your poll numbers are so low.”

Senator Hagel stared straight into the camera. “I want the American people to know that the President has made a disaster in Iraq, and thus I oppose the surge.”
“Now, Senator Hagel,” Chris Wallace, “what do you say to… uh… could you face me please?”
Hagel grudgingly turned from the camera to look at Wallace.
“What do you say to your critics who say since the build up to war in Iraq and until now you’ve been nothing but a media whore and a douche?”
Hagel turned back to the camera. “When someone has the courage to say what needs to be said, he will inevitably come under attack.” He looked back to Wallace. “Can you set it up so I can see myself on TV as I talk?”
President Bush turned off the TV. “I don’t think I like Chuck Hagel. How much do you think it would cost to fire him into the sun?”
“The lowest bid I got was five billion dollars,” Condoleezza Rice said.
Bush thought about that. “That’s a lot of money.”
Condi shrugged. “The more time goes by, the less it seems.”
“Eh, I guess firing him into the sun is a bad idea,” Bush said. “We need to worry about getting back the majority in the Senate, plus a big space launch will only give him the media attention he so craves. Maybe since he likes to get his face on TV, an ironic punishment would be to burn his face off with acid.”
“Acid is cheaper,” Condi said, “but you always end up inhaling the fumes and waking up in a hospital bed.”
“Yeah, I’m no good with acid. How about we have Rumsfeld’s angry dog attack him. Media whore’s make him angry. Very angry.”
“Rumsfeld resigned, remember? You now have Robert Gates has your Secretary of Defense.”
“Oh. Does he have an angry dog?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
“How about some sort of agitated cat, then?”
Condi shook her head.
“Well, I’ll just have to think of some appropriate ironic way to get back at that annoying media whore.” Bush put on his thinking cowboy hat. “You’ll have to leave me alone with my thoughts, Condi. By the way, did I ever tell you how clean you are?”
“I’m leaving now.”

“Things are complicated, Tim,” Hagel said.
“You’ve been saying they are complicated since before the war,” Tim Russert responded. “Are things now even more complicatedier?”
“Well… that’s complicated.”
A wrecking ball smashed through the set, hitting Hagel and sending him barreling into a camera. In through the new hole walked President Bush. “Ha!” he shouted as he pointed at Hagel.
“Did you just hit Senator Hagel with a wrecking ball?” Russert asked in disbelief.
“I sure did!” Bush said proudly. “It was an ironic punishment for him being such a media whore.”
“How was that ironic.”
Bush shrugged. “Uh… because he never like getting hit with a wrecking ball.”
“You don’t know what irony means, do you?”
“Hey, I’m not stupid!” Bush shouted. “I obviously know how to work a wrecking ball as I only smashed three other buildings before I hit this one proper.” Bush looked to Hagel. “You think he’s dead?”
“Wrecking balls can have that effect,” Russert said.
Bush looked to Hagel again. “I wonder if I should do something.” He thought for a moment. “I think I’ll go get lunch.”

“…and that’s why I think we have a real plan for Iraq,” Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice told the Foreign Relations Committee.
Her words were met with laughter.
Condi looked around with confusion. “What?”
Senatorette Barbra Boxer looked down upon Condi with scorn. “Really, do you think that in this day and age, with as advanced as we are as a society, that we’ll sit here and listen to the opinions of a childless black woman?”
Condi was taken aback. “Um… I’m not following.”
“I think my point was very clear!” Boxer shrieked. “If you don’t understand it, it’s too bad you don’t have children who can explain it to you like mine showed me how to use a Tivo. Anyway, I don’t see any further reason to listen to you on this subject.”
“So what your saying is that, even though I have a Ph.D in political science, was a professor at Stanford, was the National Security Advisor and am currently the Secretary of State, I can’t offer an opinion on foreign affairs because I lack children?”
“Exactly! Do you know why, Madame Secretary, we made Representative Nancy Pelosi Speaker of the House?”
Condi thought about that. “I’m going to guess it’s not because of qualifications or personality.”
“It’s because she’s a grandmother!” Boxer said and pounded the table. “Only someone with lots of children can understand that it better to pretend we’re safe now and do nothing than to go out there and stop probable future attacks. It’s simple head in the sand thinking that a barren Negress just wouldn’t understand!”
Condi looked around her table.
“What are you doing?” Boxer demanded.
“I’m trying to find something to throw at your head… something less cumbersome than a chair…”
“I’m just speaking truth to power!” Boxer shouted. “And, as a Senator from the most heavily populated state in America, you must listen to me!”
“Speaking truth to power to would be one of California’s overtaxed citizens telling you your haircut is kinda dykey.” Condi continued to fiddle with something on the table.
Boxer put her hands on her ears. “You don’t have children so I can’t hear you! La la la… AHHH!”

“Senator Boxer became knocked unconscious when a microphone stand became loose during a Foreign Relations Committee meeting,” the FOX News anchor stated. “She is wished a slow recovery. Now stay tuned for an hour of Bill O’Reilly yelling at people!”

“We’re doing air strikes on Somalia!” President Bush exclaimed as he sat down in front of his TV.
“I noticed,” Tony Snow said. “You believe you saw al Qaeda there, correct?”
Bush shrugged. “We thought we saw something there. Hey, know what, Tony? I can do air strikes without congressional approval. I was thinking that, with the new Democrat Congress, I should focus on things that don’t require congressional approval like bombing the crap out of stuff. Know what also doesn’t require congressional approval?” Bush opened a bag of chips. “Eating a whole bag of Doritos in one sitting!” He ate his chips while watching footage of the air strikes.
“Not to disturb you from your exercise of Executive power,” Tony said, “but have you worked on your State of the Union Address?”
“Bah. Everyone will be too distracted by Pelosi’s plastered on face leering over my shoulder to hear anything I say.”

“Let’s begin the new era of Democratic leadership!” Nancy Pelosi announced to the House. “As you can see, I’m surrounded by my grandchildren, because I’m not only the Speaker, I’m a grandmother.”
“What’s their names?” a Republican asked.
Pelosi was quiet for a moment as she looked over the children. “Uh… this isn’t about me.”
“And they’re awfully quiet. I’m just taking a guess here, but did you cut out their tongues because they were noisy?”
“No more questions! On to business!” Pelosi banged her gavel. “Now, on to the most important issue facing this country!”
“You guys are actually going to do something about terrorism?” a Republican asked skeptically.
The Democrats laughed. “I was talking about the minimum wage,” Pelosi said. “The American people sent a message this past election, and that message was that they wanted their government to pretend there is no terrorist problem and instead focus on inane crap and entitlements… and who better to do that than we Democrats?”
“Can we make the minimum wage thirty dollars… but exempt congressman’s chauffeurs from it?” one Democrat asked.
“That’s a great idea!” Pelosi answered.
“I’d just like to point out that it looks like there are some Islamic terrorists in this room right now plotting something,” a Republican said and pointed to a group of Muslims fiddling with what looked like a bomb.
Pelosi sighed. “I know you Republicans want to distract us with your fears of ‘terrorism,’ but we are only going to focus on real issues that help real Americans.”
“Can we have a bill giving everyone free candy?” a Democratic asked.
“Another great idea from the Democrats!” Pelosi exclaimed. “This is going to be such a productive first one hundred hours! Now, let’s open the floor to candy suggestions.”
“I really think those guys are working on a bomb to kill us all and that we should probably do something about it,” said another Republican. “Can we stop them and talk about free candy later.”
“Republican scare tactic!” screamed a Democrat. “They’re trying to derail our agenda with their scare tactics about terrorism! Republican scare tactic!”
One of the terrorists fired an AK-47, hitting the Democrat. “Whoops, my bad,” the terrorist said. “His yelling scared me.”
The fatally wounded Democrat fell to the floor. “I want… people to know… that my death… was nothing but a Republican scare tactic…”
Pelosi looked down at him. “Well, he’s dead. I knew this majority was going to be hard to keep together.”
“If we’re not going to do something about the terrorists, can we at least do something about illegal immigration?” a Republican asked. “It looks like about a third of the House has been taken over by them, and one of them tried to stab me.”
Pelosi scowled at him. “Why do you hate brown people?”
The Republican thought for a moment. “Well, first off, they have shifty eyes. Second…”
“No no!” another Republican whispered to him. “That was a rhetorical question to accuse you of racism! Don’t answer it!”
“I have another item for our agenda,” Barney Frank said. “We should pass a resolution condemning Bush for his ethnic cleansing of Somalia. Obviously, the point of these air strikes is to get all the black people out of Somalia! Next, I bet he’ll blow up their levees. If we–”
“Point of order,” a Republican interrupted. “Is Barney Frank gay or retarded?”
“I can be both!”
Pelosi banged her gavel. “Let’s go back to the matter at hand: free candy. Now, if we cut funding for Bush’s war in Iraq, I think we can get every American a Snickers bar. Other options are…” One of the terrorists walked up to Pelosi, and she stared back at him. “What? This better be important because we were talking about free candy!”
He whispered in her ear.
“Fine.” Pelosi turned back to face the House. “Anyone have spare wire cutters?”

PREVIOUSLY ON “IN MY WORLD”

Detective Ian Competent shined a bright light into Donald Rumsfeld’s eyes. “So how many people have you strangled to death?”
Rumsfeld rubbed his knuckles. “Apparently not enough.”
Detective Competent slammed his hands down on the table. “You think this is funny?!”
“I don’t ever think anything is funny,” Rumsfeld answered. “Laughing is for homosexuals.”
“Well you won’t be homosexual over this.” Detective Competent threw some photos of people strangled to death down in front of Rumsfeld. “Do you recognize these?”
Rumsfeld adjusted his glasses and looked at the photos. “Yes. These are the photos I sent you of the people I strangled. I wanted to make sure you knew who strangled them because I don’t want someone else taking credit from my stranglings. That would just mean more people to strangle.”
“Don’t try and talk your way out of this one!” Detective Competent shouted. “We have evidence you strangled these people! Diplomats, hippies, French people – all dead because of you!”
Rumsfeld yawned. “Now you’re just quoting my resume. I thought we were clear on all this? I usually came in and told you guys who I was going to strangle before hand to once again make sure no one take credit for my stranglings.” Rumsfeld got angry. “Is someone taking credit for my strangling?!”
Detective Competent laughed. “I bet you never thought we’d figure it out.”
“What’s to figure out? I left you guys notes and everything so you wouldn’t waste time on this.”
Detective Competent stared Rumsfeld right in the eyes. “Do you know what the punishment is for mass murderers in Washington D.C.?”
Rumsfeld thought for a moment. “I think it’s a fifteen dollar fine.”
“Wrong!” Detective Competent slammed his fists down on the table. “In an effort to crack down on murder sprees, the fine has been increased to forty dollars.” He paused for a second. “Of course, the law change isn’t retroactive, and since your murderers predate it, I guess your fine is still fifteen dollars.” He shrugged. “So, yeah, I guess you’re right; it’s fifteen dollars. Sorry for the outburst.”
“Rarr!” Rumsfeld burst to his feet. “I’m not paying that! Everyone I strangled deserved it!”
“If you don’t pay your fine, it’s prison for you! And then you can strangle rocks all day! Now, another question: You know anything about the kids disappearing in your neighborhood? We thought that would stop when we took you in, but, well…” He chuckled. “Whoops! Wrong again. Can’t get them all right… or even most of them.”
“That’s my dog, Chomps,” Rumsfeld said. “If not watched, he eats whiny little children. If watched, he eats less of them.”
“Oh.” Detective Competent thought about that. “Guess we can’t do anything about it; it’s not like laws apply to dogs. Anyway, I’m going to go talk to the press, and you can wait here and think about what you did.” He left the interrogation room and locked the door.
Rumsfeld flexed his hands. “I’d rather think about what I’m going to do.”

“I, Ian Competent, the greatest Detective ever, have succeeded where other’s failed and captured the Rumsfeld Strangler,” Detective Competent told the press. “I’m sure I’ll get the Medal of Honor or something for this. Make it clear to everyone that I’m open to negotiations for a book deal.”
A police officer ran forward. “Donald Rumsfeld has escaped! He strangled the lock open!”
“What?! Where was did he go?”
“I think he passed through here.”
Detective Competent noticed that all the reporters had been strangled. “Dang it!”

“President Bush, you may be interested to know that an APB has been put out for Donald Rumsfeld and his angry dog too,” Tony Snow said. “The orders are to shoot to kill.”
President Bush chuckled. “That’s wacky Rumsfeld. I knew he’d keep himself busy even without being Secretary of Defense anymore. Well, I hope the new guy will do well. What did Rummy call him again?”
“A ‘fruit.'”
Bush laughed again. “He was always accusing everyone of being homosexuals. I’ll miss that.” Bush held up the Iraq Study Group report. “Did you see this, Snowman? We have our plan to win!”
“Uh… did you actually read that?”
“No. I don’t… you know… read things. Why? What’s it say?”
“It’s a plan to withdraw from Iraq,” Tony explained. “It also calls for talks with Syria and Iran to help with Iraq.”
Bush tossed the study. “Was that the ‘Iraq Study Group’ or the ‘Crack Smoking Group’? We should make a new group with people who actually like to win wars. You think we can find some of them?”
Tony sighed. “Yeah; maybe.”
“Maybe I’ll just do my own study group with my GI Joe action figures,” Bush mused. “They never give up in their battle with the dreaded Cobra.”
“Unfortunately, I think that’s your best idea so far this year, sir.”
“If I include the Transformers in this study group, do I need to include both the Autobots and the Decepticons to make it bipartisan?”
Tony was about to respond, but then his cell phone rang and he answered it.
“What is it?” Bush asked.
Tony put away his phone. “Apparently, every member of the Iraq Study Group has been strangled.”
“That’s odd. Do you think the murders are related?”
Tony rolled his eyes. “It crossed my mind. I’m going to go talk to the press and then cry myself to sleep.”
“Have fun!” When Tony left, Bush opened the drawer on his desk that contained his action figures and rummaged through them. “I need to find Admiral Ackbar; he’ll know what to do.”

“All I’m saying is that we need a draft because our military is full of morons,” Representative Charlie Rangel told Chris Wallace. “Most who join the military are people who wandered into a recruiting office thinking it was a candy store and then were too stupid to figure out how to use the door knob to get out. By drafting smarter people into the military, we’ll free up the mentally handicapped who currently serve so they can go back to sweeping the floors at McDonalds.”
“Do you really think it’s wise to talk about the troops in such a demeaning way?” Wallace asked.
“We Democrats made our complete and utter contempt for the military clear before the election and take the result of the election to mean that the American people share our contempt for the inbred morons we now have risking their lives overseas.”
President Bush shut off the TV. “I wish that man would just SHUT UP!”
Tony Snow nodded. “What he’s saying is pretty despicable.”
“Oh, I was just talking about his voice; it’s so annoying and raspy.” Bush looked to Tony with concern. “Why? What was he saying? Was it about me?”
Tony rolled his eyes. “Anyway, I have to explain to the press how you missed your last speech because you got trapped in a bathroom stall again.”
“Okay, but have you seen Rummy around?”
“I believe he was last seen being lead away by police as the suspect for a long series of serial killings.”
Bush chuckled. “That wacky Rummy; what mischief will he get into next.”
Tony left and a group of fat Republican Congressman smoking cigars entered the Oval Office. Bush looked at his schedule. “I’m supposed to meet with the new Republican leadership now, but you guys look like the old leadership.”
“Ha!” Roy Blunt laughed, his belly shaking like a bowl full of tax money. “We didn’t see any reason to change leadership. We’re the Republican Party and we know what’s best.”
“But won’t the base be unhappy with no changes after the big election loss?” Bush asked.
“Our response to the Republican base will be to punch them in the face, knock them down into a puddle, spit on them, and then yell, ‘What are you going to do? Start your own party?'” Blunt and the rest of the Congressman then laughed.
Bush thought for a moment. “I don’t think they’ll like that.”
“So what? What are they going to do? Start their own party?” Representative Boehner demanded.
Bush shrugged. “Yeah, I guess they can’t do that. It’s not like they’re going to vote for whatever dyed blue freak holding a ferret the Libertarians are fielding either.” He then noticed Trent Lott was with the group. “Hey, I thought he got thrown out of leadership years ago.”
“But I’m back now!” Lott exclaimed. “And I’m the new minority whip in the Senate!” He pulled out a whip and cracked it in the air. “That’s right! I’m going to whip me some minorities! Gonna whip the black right off ’em!”
Blunt shrugged. “We’ll talk to him.”
“So what are we going to do about the border issue?” Bush asked. “Everyone keeps yelling at me over that one.”
Blunt thought about it. “Well, I mentioned how we are going to punch the Republican base in the face. I guess we can also yell at them to stop hating brown people. It’s not like we want to stop Mexicans from getting in here; if we don’t get more of them, who will cut my lawn? You?”
“Sure, I can do it,” Bush said. “With my new lame duck status, I have more free time.”
“Nah… you’d do it all wrong. It has to be done my Mexicans.”
Bush shook his head. “I dunno. A lot of people are going to get angry if we don’t at least pretend to do something about illegal immigration.”
“I’ll stop the Mexicans!” Lott shouted. “I’ll whip the chalupas right out of their hands.” He cracked his whip some more.
Bush looked back towards Blunt. “You are going to talk to him, right?”
“Eh, I don’t see any reason to worry. Remember, all we have to do is be better than the Democrats. That’s like trying to out run an invalid; why even break a sweat?”
“I guess that makes sense. Does Rove approve of all of this?”
The hooded figure of Karl Rove emerged from the shadows. “Everything is going according to plan.”
“And you do have an actual plan, right?” Bush asked. “This isn’t like how Battlestar Gallatica starts by saying the Cylons have a plan but with each new episode you doubt that even more?”
Karl Rove laughed an evil laugh and disappeared back into the shadows.
“Well, we better get back to work,” Blunt said. “It’s not like the Republican base will punch themselves. Isn’t that right, Representative Coca-Cola?”
A Congressman nodded in approval.
Bush furrowed his brow. “Representative Coca-Cola?”
“I sold my last name out as advertising space!” Coca-Cola said.
“Is that a conflict of interest?”
Coca-Cola began to advance on Bush, but Blunt grabbed his shoulder. “We’re not allowed to punch him in the face.”
The Congressmen left and Bush sat down at his desk and took a Nintendo DS out of a drawer. “Man, this job got less stressful when I realized that, whether I’m achieving great things or I’m a lame duck who spends all day playing videogames, I still get paid the same.”

“Do I really have to have Nancy Pelosi behind me when I give my State of the Union Address?” President Bush asked as he and Tony Snow walked by the Pentagon.
“That’s usually the custom.”
“But what if she’s plotting to eat my skin?! She just has that look on her face like she’s just waiting for someone to drop his guard so she can kill him and eat his skin!”
“You’ll just have to risk it, I guess.”
There was a loud crash, and Bush looked up to see a desk smashing through the wall of the Pentagon and fall to the ground. “Rumsfeld must be moving his things.”
There was another crash, and Ted Kennedy flew through a wall and plummeted to the ground.
“I think he’s mad.”
Tony nodded. “That’s always a good assumption.”
They ran inside to find Rumsfeld destroying his office.
“Isn’t retirement great?” Bush asked.
“Rarr!” Rumsfeld yelled, and took a swing at Bush. Bush ducked and Rumsfeld punched out the wall behind him.
Bush dusted drywall off his suit jacket. “I thought you were giving a press conference about your leaving?”
“I was, but the reporters questioned my ability so I strangled them all.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “The weirdest thing was the surprised looks on their faces as I killed them… like they actually expected anything else to happen.”
Bush noticed a document lying on the ground and picked it up. “What this?”
“It’s my severance package; why don’t they just take me out into a field and shoot me?!” Rumsfeld growled. “The Democrats are going to cut and run; they are going to make America lose. I must kill them all.” He stormed off.
“Have fun,” Bush said, not looking up from the severance package he was reading.
Tony looked towards the exiting Rumsfeld. “Do you think we should do try and stop Rumsfeld before he hurts someone?”
“I have an even better idea!” Bush exclaimed. “I’m going to get fired!”
“Um… what?!”
“Do you see how generous this severance package is?” Bush handed the paper to Tony. “Government jobs are sweet! I totally could totalyl be sitting pretty on this severance package! I don’t want to be a lame duck getting yelled at for the next two years while the Dems screw everything up; I want to relax in Texas and play golf. I just have to get my self fired.”
“I’m not thinking that’s the best idea, sir.”
“And I’m thinking it’s the best idea ever! The Dems already hate me, I just need to get the Republicans to hate me too. What issue does the base really care about?”
“Well, a lot of them don’t like your plans on immigration and–”
“Perfect!” Bush rubbed his greedy hands together. “I got an idea to so get me fired and make that sweet sweet severance package mine.” He thought for a moment. “Now, do I have enough time to first grow a Hitler mustache?”
Tony sighed. “Where’s the nearest bar.”
“I think Ted’s still on the street outside; he’ll know.”

“I’d like to unveil the new RNC Chair,” Bush told the press. “Mel Martinez.” Bush pulled the canvas sack off of Mel’s head.
“That wasn’t a veil and it was completely unnecessary,” Mel said.
Bush patted him on the back. “Good ‘ole Mel!”
A reporter stepped forward. “Melinda Hawkish, FOX News. Is this selection of Senator Martinez an indication you are surrendering on the illegal immigration issue and going to grant amnesty?”
“Not amnesty, a guest worker program,” Mel said.
“That’s right,” Bush added. “Completely different things… just like cut and run versus phased withdrawal. Mel isn’t pro-illegal immigrant, and anyone who disagrees with me on this is a xenophobic racist who should die. Right, Mel?”
“Well–”
“Why is his mere presence causing this press conference to be flooded with illegal immigrants, then?” Melinda persisted.
“Shut up, you right-wing, FOX News nazi!” Bush shouted. “You and everyone who watches your news station just hates brown people!”
The press cheered Bush. He leaned over to whisper to Mel, “When Republicans see the press cheer me on, it’s going to make them so angry that I’m totally getting fired!”
“You’re doing what now?”
“Why wasn’t Michael Steele given this position?” another reporter asked.
“He was too dynamic and conservative,” Bush answered. “Plus, I hate black people. Didn’t you ever listen to that whiner Kanye West? I mean I hate black people so much I blew up the levees in New Orleans. That’s just the kind of president I am.” He looked into one of the cameras. “And there’s nothing any of you can do to stop me!”
“I would just like to mention that I don’t hate black people,” Mel said meekly.
Bush slapped him on the back. “See, Mel is a stand up guy. He’ll be perfect to welcome in our new Mexican migrant worker overlords, perhaps placating them with his own Mexican-ness.”
“I was born in Cuba, actually, and–”
Bush smiled. “And he’s a foreigner! A Commie foreigner! That’s right, I put a Commie foreigner in charge of the RNC and there is nothing other Republicans can do about it!”
“I’m an American and I’m not a Com–”
“Don’t be modest, Mel! He’s here to lead the Republican Party into a new era of crazy foreignness full of Communism and illegal Mexicans! And no one – no one – can stop me! Muh ha ha ha!”
“Are you trying to get fired?” a reporter asked.
Bush paused for a moment. “I dunno… you think it’s working?”
“No one watches these… except maybe a few bloggers.”
“But they write lots of e-mails and that can make stuff happen, right?” Bush asked hopefully.
The reporter shook his head. “They just go into the spam folder.”
Bush stomped his foot. “But I wanna get fired!”
“Do you know anything about the police finally closing in on a suspect in the ‘Rumsfeld Strangler’ case?” a reporter asked.
Bush furrowed his brow. “Who is doing what now?”

Rumsfeld rested in his easy chair with Chomps his rottweiler napping angrily next to him. Rumsfeld held a pen and a pad of paper. “Now to make a list of Democrats to strangle to make America safer.” He thought for a moment. “Eh, probably easier to make a list of Democrats not to strangle.” He started writing. “Joe Lieb–”
His front door was kicked in and in barged DC Detective Ian Competent flanked by police.
Chomps growled. Rumsfeld looked up and said, “This better be important; I have lots of people to kill!”
“You’ll only be killing people in prison now… Rumsfeld Strangler!”
TO BE CONTINUED…

“Well… that sucked.”
Dick Cheney leaned back in his chair. “Maybe you suck.”
Bush jumped to his feet. “No! You suck!” He turned to hooded figure of Karl Rove. “I thought you were rigging the Diebold machines!”
“Well… they were more complex than I foretold. Plus, you suck.”
“You suck!” Bush shouted back, but Rove had disappeared back into the shadows.
“Why don’t we stop fighting and just admit we all suck,” Condoleezza Rice suggested.
“Well, people seem to like me,” Tony Snow said.
Everyone in the room glared at him. “Get the hell out of here, Tony!”
Tony shrugged and headed out of the room. “Fine. Didn’t want to be around you losers anyway.”
Part of the wall began to disintegrate as if the atoms themselves were being torn apart. Through the hole stepped Joe Lieberman. “I have power beyond imagination!” Lieberman exclaimed.
“That’s super,” Bush said unenthusiastically.
“The balance of the Senate now rests in my hands! I have such power that I can even bend space and time!” A disgusting creature then came scampering in behind Lieberman, crouched over and looking quite pathetic.
“What’s that?” Bush asked.
“That’s one of those fool bloggers who tried to stand against me,” Lieberman said darkly. “I have used my new power to enslave him. His job is to lick my shoes.”
“Have mercy on poor Moulitsas!” the wretched thing pleaded. “Do pity me!”
“No!” Lieberman punched the thing in the face.
“Ever think about joining the Republicans?” Bush asked Lieberman hopefully.
Lieberman thought for a moment. “No… you guys are kinda a bunch of losers.”
Bush leapt to his feet once more. “You’re a loser!”
With a wave of his hand, Lieberman sent Bush flying back against the wall. Lieberman then turned and left with the pitiful creature following close behind.
Bush dusted himself off. “What’s Pelosi doing now, anyway?”
“I think having her face stretched,” Condi said.
Bush shuddered. “I can’t deal with her; I’m always afraid she’s going to shoot blood out of her eyes at me. I’ll need people to check in on the Congress for me.” He looked to the door and shouted, “Interns!”
Bill and Jill the interns came running. “Hey!” Bill the intern exclaimed. “Aren’t elections exciting?”
“I still haven’t calmed down from voting,” Jill the intern said. “Yay!”
“I know things didn’t turn out as you wanted, President Bush,” Bill the interned said, “but you should still be happy because democracy is fan-tastic!”
Jill the intern jumped up and down. “Yay democracy! Yay America!”
Bush groaned. “Whatever. I need you to talk to the crazy Democrats in Congress for me. Be careful of Pelosi; she may try to suck the marrow from your bones.”
“We won’t let you down, President Bush,” Bill the intern assured him.
“Hooray! I love going to the Capitol!” Jill the intern shouted as the two left.
“I really hope they die.” Bush looked to his staff. “”Well, I better talk to the American people now and tell them what’s what.”
“You going to tell them you suck?” Cheney asked.
“You suck!”

Bush sat at his desk in the Oval Office and looked into the camera. “Hello, American peoples. I see you decided to elect some Democrats yesterday. Fine; you can do what you want, I guess. I mean, you elected me twice. Still, I am your president and am very powerful.” He shook his finger at the camera. “Do not anger me. I will bomb you from the sky just like I bombed countless others.
“As for the Democrats, they may have the House and even the Senate, but I still have my… VETO PEN!” Bush held up his pen proudly.
“That’s a crayon!” Condi shouted from behind the camera.
Bush looked at it. “Sky blue… oh.” He dropped it and started rifling through the drawers in his desk. “It’s around here somewhere; I mean, I think I used it once.” He stopped searching and faced the camera. “Well, I do have a veto pen, and I will find it. That’s a warning to Democrats. And I also have this.” He held up a jagged rock. “This is the rock I bash Democrats in the head with if they make me mad.” He shook the rock at the camera. “Don’t make me mad!
“Now, many of you may wonder what will happen with the terrorists. Well, I will still pursue them, and, if the Democrats get in my way, I will use my veto pen and my Democrat bashing rock. When I get to the terrorists, I’ll bash them with my terrorist bashing rock!” He looked around. “Where is it?”
Condi held up a rock. “Is this it?”
“No; that’s my hippy bashing rock.”
Condi found a bloodstained rock. “Is this it?”
“That’s it. Gimmee gimmee!”
Condi handed over the rock. “It needs to be cleaned.”
“I can’t clean it or it won’t be lucky anymore.” Bush turned to the camera and shook the bloody rock at it. “I will find you and I will bash you with this rock, terrorists! Don’t think the Democrats will stop me! If Reagan could still fight the Soviets with a Democratic Congress, then I can still find you terrorists and bash you with a rock even with Pelosi against me!”
“Yeah, but that was Reagan and you’re you,” Condi said.
“Shut up!” Bush shouted. “Don’t make me find a Condi rock!”
“Whatever. You done with this? I’m going to go get some lunch.”
“Can you pick me up something?”
“No.” Condi walked off.
“I’m still powerful!” Bush yelled. He looked to the camera. “Now how do I turn this off? Oh… I think I have a rock for that.”

“John Kerry has been criticized from all side for remarks thought to be critical of troops’ intelligence,” the anchorman said. “We now go live for his statement on this issue.”
John Kerry stood at a podium looking as angry as the Botox allowed him. “How could anyone every think that I, a highly decorated veteran who, by the way, served in Vietnam, would insult the troops… other than those time I did so in front of Congress and on national television? It’s preposterous. Only someone as dishonest as a common Army soldier would assert such a thing. I’m sure you all understand this, because you’re not a bunch of retard Marines. So ignore the lies, especially if they come from lecherous Navy men. I would hope the media would correct the record, but there all as lazy as a member of the Air Force.
“In conclusion: Don’t fall for the lies and be military stupid; instead, be Kerry smart!”
Dick Cheney turned off the television. “To think that the country was this close to electing the only person dumber than George Bush.”
President Bush laughed. “Yeah, he’s even dumber than… Hey!”
“Who were those monkeys in the crowd that were jumping up and down?” Condoleezza Rice asked.
“The KosKids,” Cheney answered. “Kerry’s combative response seems to have excited the liberal netroots. Then again, they’ll latch on to about anything and go into a frenzy.”
Bush scratched his head. “I thought they didn’t like Kerry because of how he lost to me or how he didn’t lose but also didn’t contest Ohio or whatever the hell their crazy narrative is.”
“Their memories don’t last very long,” Cheney explained. “Actually, the only things they can commit to long term memory are anything wrong they think you did.”
Bush pumped his fists in the air. “I’m memorable!”
“So what do we do with this?” Condi asked.
Bush shrugged. “I guess I should ask Rove. I thought he had an October surprise, but nothing came up. I’m glad this happened though. Yay for dumb Democrats!”

Bush went down into the catacombs beneath D.C. His path was lit only by his torch, and at his sides were the corpses of many political fortunes. “Rover!” Bush called out. “Rovey Rovey Rover!”
He tripped into a puddle which extinguished his torch. “Aww. Every time I disappear without a word and come back muddy, Laura yells at me.”
Bush then heard two voices ahead. He crawled through the darkness until he spotted some more torchlight and the silhouettes of two figures.
“Your latest comments will cause more controversy,” said a sinister voice. “Make sure to respond in an even more combative manner. That will alienate most voters while exciting the liberal netroots. We need those fools to remain active to win.”
“Yes, my dark master,” answered the second person.
Bush ran forward and saw it was Karl Rove and John Kerry. “What’s going on here? Are you two working together?”
“Aieee! A surface-dweller!” Kerry screamed and then ran off into the darkness of the caves.
“Fool! You wanted an October surprise, and you got it!” Rove answered. “The genius of this one was that no one would suspect I was behind it if it appeared to be an unforced error from a Democrat.”
“But how long has Kerry worked for you? I mean, during 2004…”
Rove chuckled. “To make sure you won, I needed someone who at first glance seemed electable but was actually unpleasant and unappealing. I tasked Kerry to fill that role and won you your reelection.”
“Aww… I thought I won that because everyone thinks I’m cool.”
Rove laughed evilly. “Never underestimate the power of Rove!”
“Well, I don’t think this right!” Bush said. “I’m going to have to tell everyone that Kerry is your sleeper agent!”
“I don’t think so.” Rove walked towards Bush, and Bush found himself unable to move or even scream.

Bush woke up in bed next to Laura. “Wow, what a weird dream I had.”
“Being drugged and dragged to your bed by Karl Rove probably would give you weird dreams,” Laura said.
“Yep, at least it was all just a dream.”
On TV, Kerry was speaking again. “…and the right wing nut-jobs have once gains misconstrued my words, attacking me with the zeal of our murderous, baby-killing troops…”