by va
It's my sincere hope that the end of our national nightmare is the beginning of George W. Bush's long personal nightmare. Or, if not nightmare, at the very least I hope for quiet and intense desperation. This occurred to me when I saw this picture of W. inspecting the posterior of a supplicant (?) Misty May-Treanor. I had visions of Bush disowned, disinherited, nostalgic for his days of deciding. The photo was, in short, the stuff of poetry: what Bush will remember with advantages what feats he did that day. Anyway, quiet desperation: I was inspired to write W.'s future personal ads in haiku form. The world's weirdly coming apart at the seams this week, & it made me briefly pretty happy. Give it a try!
Man who fought the law
And emerged victorious
Wants corpus to habe
Puppet autocrat
With a pretty good pension
Wants your approval
Ex-deciderer
Wants to veto-stamp you and
Have boots admired
Retired statesman
Wants chicks for summit meetings,
Surprise massages
Like role play? Old dean
Wants to give you detention
Indefinitely