Dearest Diary,
Just had a chat with Cheney. God he's freaky. He said he was pushing me to McCain's folks for VP. Somehow he made it sound... scary, like he'd pack me off to Gitmo if I didn't get picked. "It's yours to lose," he said, glowering. Something's wrong with that guy. His face doesn't work right. I don't think it smiles. I wonder if he has teeth. Prob'ly just fangs. Brrrrr!
But he made his point. I better get it. Trying to think if there's anything else I could do. I put out the statement, "I would be honored, blah blah blah." Hit all the right patriotic notes. Rove supports me; Bush supports me; now even Cheney. All they have to do is convince that whiny old midget.
Scratch that diary. That's wrong. He's a hero. War hero. Prisoner of war. Yes. He's a whiny hero midget. Hee hee. Stop it, Mittens! I even tell my kids Biff, Scooter, Boomer, Beav, Chip, Ralph, Jethro, Tommy, Rex, Hootie, and Ebeneezer... 1,2,3,4... whatever... I tell 'em what a hero he is so that they'll tell everyone that I tell 'em what a hero he is and he'll think I think he's not a whiny old midget.
It's not my fault there wasn't a war for me to fight in. OK, there was. It's not my fault I had the connections to get out of fighting it. I was doing the Lord's work converting the French to the true religion. Just think: if there'd been more like me, we wouldn't have to call them "freedom fries," now would we? Think, people!
And the gall they had to criticize my kids for not going to Iraq! As if! They serve their country. They're role models. Handsome boys. Morally upstanding. Working to get me elected does more for America than anything they'd do in uniform. Even naked as cherubs (and they do love to roughouse au naturelle) they inspire!
Their service is equal to any soldier's because I have something unique to offer America. I still have that twinkle in my eye. It's wasted on the private sector. Retire my ass. This face was made for the cameras. This smile was made to sway the masses.
This underwear rides up like a mother.... Couldn't come up with something reasonable like a frackin' Burka...
I don't know what more they want. Conservative conshmervative. I proved I'd hate whoever they wanted me to hate to win this thing. I more than made up for being the governor of the most liberal state in the union. They wanted fag bashing. I'll gave 'em fag bashing. They hate Mexicans; I supported a frackin' national moat. I did everything but sing Deutschland uber alles in a Klan hood while desecrating an image of the prophet Muhammed over the smoking ruins of an abortion clinic with my right hand on Ann Coulter's left tit.
What do they care what I did yesterday. It's what I say I'll do tomorrow that counts. On that, McCain and I agree, and I tell you, there's been less substantial grounds for political marriage. Wow! Brainstorm!
What do they care what I did yesterday.
It's what I say I'll do tomorrow that counts.
That would make the best McCain/Romney campaign slogan ever!
See what I'd bring to the table? I'd be a great VP. I know I would. What was it Chris Matthews said...
He has the perfect chin, the perfect hair, he looks right. He looks like a Mountie. He looks like he's from the Royal Canadian Mounted Police.
And Roger Simon?
Romney has chiseled-out-of-granite features, a full, dark head of hair going a distinguished gray at the temples, and a barrel chest. On the morning that he announced for president, I bumped into him in the lounge of the Marriott and up close he is almost overpowering. He radiates vigor.
Fags. Heh heh.
He must see that I'd look great next to a casket. State funerals. I could do that. It's the smile, I tell ya'. Oozes empathy. I'd do a great disaster. If I'd been vice President, those Katrina folks would have thought that shit-stained superdome was a 3 star hotel. They would have downright forgot they were black. I would've smiled sympathetically, with just the right note of condescension so they'd appreciate that someone of my stature took the time to care. How flattered they would have been. Like America itself smiling down on them. That would have meant so much. I would've donned an apron while I humbly served them a meal. Maybe a dish called, "Curse of Ham..." Ha ha ha ha ha.
"Who let the dogs out. Woof Woof." Oh, black people are funny.
Speaking of dogs. I think that goddamned Irish setter lost me the primary. They made fun of me cause I strapped it to the roof of the car on a family trip and it shat down the back window on the way down the interstate. I should've rigged a crap screen, that's all. I hate dogs. PETA freaks. What part of "dominion over... the earth" do they NOT understand? Next time I'll strap the mangy bastard to the bumper and see how they like it.
Ouch! 10% of my millions and half the day with my hand up my ass, I swear...
Have to make some news. Reinforce my credentials. I need to attack somebody--call 'em treasonous, heathen, anti-American, terrorist-sympathizing, Muslim, French smelling, radical elitists. But who? Who?
Oh my God, this conservatism thing is hard work.