I have to tell you, I burst out laughing when I heard that Mary Cheney was pregnant.
Not that I have a whole lot against Mary, mind you. I mean, it does disgust me that she leads the life she does and yet campaigned for Bush/Cheney in 2004, even as they were shamefully exploiting American homophobia to win votes. But every time I get angry at Mary, I just remember two things: Dick Cheney is her father!! Lynne Cheney is her mother!! We probably ought to cut the gal some slack under these circumstances, don’t you think? I mean, how’d you like to be sitting across the dinner table from Pol Pot, and have to say “Please pass the raspberry Jell-O ... Dad”?
No, it’s not about Mary herself. Here’s why I busted a gut when I heard she was in a family way: I was thinking about how delightfully, how appropriately, how delectably wrong the world has gone for George Bush. A couple of years ago he was the Master of the Universe, setting new records for human arrogance, the very definition of hubris, invading countries, dissing Democrats, scaring the living crap out of big-shot reporters.
Now, the guy can’t buy a break. First his own damn “you-bastards-told-me-it-was-gonna-be-a-cakewalk” war got shoved up into his face, big and ugly. Meanwhile, his former White House religion dude writes a book confessing to Rock The Cross voters that it’s been a total lying scam with this crew all along – a giant Rovian ratfuck – this time of 40 million evangelicals. If that wasn’t enough to alienate the home team, the party gets caught running interference for gay pedophiles hitting on nice, wholesome, sixteen year-old crimson-cheeks-with-white-shirt-and-tie-junior-Mr.-Smith-Goes-to-Washington congressional pages.
Then in November Bush is stomped and personally repudiated by the voters of the third largest country on the planet (the other 6.26 billion inhabitants having long ago already come to the same conclusion). Afterwards, his dad’s personal main hit-man publicly embarrasses him with the worst report-card he’s had since... ...well, since all the others he’s ever gotten. Meanwhile, Saddam’s lawyer is now revealing documents showing US (read Republican) complicity in helping Iraq acquire chemical weapons, back in the day. And to top it all off, British citizens are literally telling pollsters they consider Bush more dangerous than Kim Jong-Il. And they’re our closest allies!
Damn! That’s some run. You gotta be pretty special to go down that hard.
So I laughed thinking about what worse could next happen to George Bush. Like, I dunno, maybe driving his entire sexuality-obsessed (that would be your sexuality, of course) social conservative base completely bonkers with the Vice-President’s lesbian daughter announcing her pregnancy?!?! Good lord, you can’t pay for material like this! This stuff makes Clinton look like an altar boy! (Before, um, that is, we knew what happens to altar boys.)
Nobody deserves it more than W. Nobody. And the good news is that he’s not even begun to get his yet. But, man, this is rich. And it got me to thinking, what more could happen to the Creature from Crawford before I could start to believe that there is a god in this universe, after all?
If you’re George Bush, what could be worse than a pregnant lesbian daughter of the Vice-President, for an administration dependent on an army of foaming-at-the-mouth would-be theocrats? Hmmm – I wonder.
Maybe it would be worse if...
...it’s your kid.
...it’s your kid, and Dick is coming down the hall with a short Remington in one hand and a tall Beefeater in the other.
...it’s your kid, and Mary keeps phoning, even though you’ve begged her to stop.
...but she won’t, and you find the family bunny boiling on the White House stove.
...the army decides it’s time for you to finally fulfill your military obligations, slaps an M16 in your hands, and packs you off to Falluja.
...you try to get your dad to fix it again, but he claims he lacks any political connections.
...you get stuck in Guantánamo with a court-appointed Texas death-penalty lawyer defending you.
...it turns out the International Criminal Court has jurisdiction, after all.
...Barney pees all over your hidden stash of 1970s Hustler magazines.
...and comes out against the war, along with everybody else.
...the office staff leaves a two-pound bag of pretzels on your desk every morning.
...the twins changed their name to Barbara and Jenna Clinton.
...and get married.
...to each other.
...Bar and Poppy start returning your phone calls about as often as Rummy returns Condi’s.
...Laura doesn’t even bother to whack you anymore for not sitting down when you pee.
...Jeb kicks the living snot out of you (again!) for permanently ruining his chances of ever becoming president.
...the Secret Service stands by laughing and sells the film to America’s Funniest Home Videos.
...Marvin signs you up for a savings and loan deal financed by the Saudis and brokered by Jack Abramoff.
...it’s so skanky even Alberto Gonzalez decides to prosecute.
...Doro wears the “I’m with stupid” t-shirt Baker gave her to your campaign rallies.
...you hit on Monica and she laughs in your face.
...you hit on Katherine Harris and she laughs maniacally in your face.
...you hit on Condi and she hurls all over your shoes like you were the Japanese prime minister or something.
...Mark Foley hits on you and you’re starting to think about it.
...you’re forced to actually read The Stranger.
...you’re forced to actually read any book.
...you run out of Bud, and it’s only 11:00 in the morning.
...just for shits and giggles, Rove starts feeding three-syllable words through your earpiece during press conferences.
...the goddam receiver under your shirt spontaneously bursts into flames on national television.
...you burst into tears thinking about all the times your mom flashed you the L-for-loser-sign on her forehead, and yelled, “Why can’t you be like Jebby?”
...Ralph Reed is your spiritual advisor.
...Pat Robertson is your moral advisor.
...Bill Bennett is your leisure activity advisor.
...Karl Rove is your political advisor.
...your dad always seems to be out on the cigarette boat or jumping from airplanes whenever they call for presidential library donations.
...due to lack of funds, they use a spare double-wide from Katrina for your library.
...for the first time in your life, you actually have to step foot in a library.
...two-thirds of the books in it are copies of The Pet Goat.
...the other book is your dad’s memoir explaining why occupying Iraq would be really stupid in the extreme.
...Rove turns state’s evidence and enters a witness protection program.
...Blair really does gets religion, and starts obsessively telling the truth in public.
...Powell, rummaging through some old stuff in a closet, stumbles across his long-lost conscience.
...Wolfowitz forgot to burn the papers.
...your chief of staff resigns and no one will take the job except Michael Brown.
...due to a bizarre collective freak accident, the press starts doing its job.
...John Conyers doesn’t die.
...historians rank you the worst vice-president ever.
...you’re impeached on a voice vote.
...the military gets tired of your act, starts giving you that look.
...the banner above the 2008 GOP convention stage reads, “Just Kidding, America!”
...Scalia apologizes to the world, begs forgiveness, and flagellates himself into a bloody pulp at a press conference.
...Fox is running a new reality show called “Dysfunctional First Families”, and only one episode is planned.
...you finally wake up at long last, only to find yourself still in your dingy Waco apartment, ketchup stains on your t-shirt, smashed beer cans everywhere, and some lipstick-smeared chick named Candy going on and on about wanting to meet your hot nephew, George P.
...President Gore is rambling on and on about something on the TV.
...it turns out ”Thou shall not kill” really is a commandment.
...and there really is a god.
...who knows what it feels like to lose a kid in the Middle East.
...and doesn’t appreciate being used as a campaign prop.
...and, as a matter of fact, is pretty pissed off at you in general.
...cause her name is Karla Faye Tucker.
