Dr. Faustroll Writes the Wrongs

I recently placed bets to win that former First Idiot, George W. Bush, will finally be captured and taken to The Hague before Memorial Day. The Decidedly Imperfect Decider has apparently signed up to give a series of lectures in countries that have international arrest warrants out for his sorry Gumpian buttocks.

The man recently showed up to buy some duct tape and bomb making materials at a Dallas hardware store where no one recognized him, despite his Players jacket having the presidential seal and his name prominently displayed, and despite the fact that this very store had offered him a job as an official greeter for nearly the minimum wage just a few days earlier.

“Up here in Texas,” said current greeter Henry Lee Youngman, “we is used to dealing with fallen debris, such as when the space shuttle come down all abouts and the collectors swup in and got all the good pieces to sell on eBay, and Dubya, he’s not the president these days. Hell, he’s just another born again asshole thinks he’s too good to get drunk down at Thelma’s. Loney [Ruby County Sheriff Looney] should prolly arrested his dumb ass for impressionating a president, which we all know is a nigra, although it pains me to say it.”

After being asked by Becky Sue and Harmony Discord who were selling Girl Scout cookies out front if he knew how to get in touch with their hero Cindy Sheehan, Bush hocked up a loogie of freedom and was airlifted by Bushleague One to Southern Methodist University where he barged into a political science class and began lecturing to generally disinterested students as Curtis Bryant Mayfield, the regular instructor, was subdued with a taser, bound with cable ties, had his head covered with a burlap sack, and was dragged from the auditorium by his genitals.

“Damned but if this won’t the best example of how our country has been made much less safer by the election of that damn liberal nigra,” said a drunken C student (who insisted on anonymity because he hopes to run for president himself one day) when describing Bush’s brief comments on deciderfication, responsibiliting, and accomplishments involving missions to protect shoppers throughout the country since 9/11.

“Now I know that some that think think that thinking is the only way to think thinking through and derive at a new occlusion,” Bush allegedly told his captive audience, “but I wasn’t elected the first time, and then I wasn’t elected again to listen to people who don’t agree with me. Right after 9/11, I told the American people who had bestowed upon me my mandrake that it was time to shut up and fight and put up and put out. That you was either for us or enemy combatants, and until I left office — triumervately I might add if I understood that correctly,” he grinned, smacking the earbud where he still listens to motivational podcasts from former vice president in hiding Lon Cheney.

Bush pulled a pistol from his jacket pocket when asked by an obvious liberal agitator if he cared to discuss the economic stimulus package pushed through Congress by the tax and spend liberals and their elitely literate leader Biraq Hussein Obama, aiming it at the questioner’s crotch before breaking into his trademark smirk, assuming a wide stance that would have been envied by potato-headed former Republicrat congressman from his own privates and Idaho Larry Craig, grabbing the codpiece he has worn every day since declaring the war in Iraq a mission accomplished on the deck of the U.S. Benjamin Braddock, and shouted: “One word! Plastics! I got your economic stimulus package right here!”

This weekend the former president departs for England where he hopes to take possession of brain tissue that is more than 2,000 years old and which Bush believes should sit in his fraternity house next to the skull of Geronimo, which was liberated from a shrine maintained by native terrorists by his grandfather.

Some suggest that Bush’s real interest in the brain is that it may hold the secret to having the defective one in his own skull reprogrammed so that he can once again eat pretzels and drink PBR without fear of choking and passing on to the big ranch in the sky before he gets to place his copy of My Pet Goat in his $2.3 trillion library at SMU..

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