by Robert Crisman - Vol 3 Issue 34

When the going got tough George Bush took us all to the circus.

There was Bush in the wake of Katrina, hopping around with his foot in his mouth and trying to spit out his old, crusty socks. He’d actually said that nobody knew that those levies would break!

Jesus Christ, George, my four-year-old nephew had said that those levies were toast back in 2003! Get off that crack!

George Walker Bush. American history’s number one dumbfuck. The guy has a future: being taken in chains from city to city and stoned by the people and then drowned in a bathtub on prime time TV. Schedule your block party now!

Next up, his unbearable mother. In the Astrodome she saw all these people who’d lost all they had and said, well, they’re underprivileged, so this worked out well.

Like mama like son. The bitch needs a piss test; she had to be loaded to come up with that one.

And then Condi Rice. She interrupted a shoe-shopping trip in Manhatten to give some advice to the people blown out of their homes in Biloxi. Wait for Jesus, she said. Must be she figured he’d bring the food and the aid trucks and shit…

Laughs all around. Then Bush’s flak crew got into the act. These guys weren’t so funny. Stupid as sump-goats but funny? Uh uh.

George Will weighed in on September 14 in the morning P-I. He’s the gentleman nazi they let have a column who uses big words that are mostly just dribble and spit.

Will blames those New Orleans Black folks, especially the unmarried ladies with babies, for drowning. He doesn’t say that in so many words. He never does, the slimy shitweasel. But, well, listen:

After Katrina, he says, “America’s always fast-flowing river of race-obsessing has overflowed its banks.” He trashes the Senator, Barack Obama for blasting not only the federal response to the storm but also the government’s ‘historic indifference’ to Blacks and the poor. Feigning amusement at liberal “lament,” Will conjures a story that’s worthy of Enron’s accountants in front of a Senate committee.. Since ’64, he maintains, the feds have doled out a cool $6.6 trillion to bring all poor people up out of the muck.

He dredged that figure right out of his ass, the same place he gets all his columns. Who’s gonna check, right? Liars love darkness.

See, he continues, the only poor people are ones who ignore all those “not-at-all-recondite rules: graduate from high school, don’t have a baby until you are married, don’t marry while you are a teenager.” Those poor folks, you see, fucking like rabbits—and outside of wedlock! Same thing the Pope said…

Will purrs that it’s “safe to surmise that more than 80% of African-American births in inner-city New Orleans…were to women without husbands. That translates into a large and constantly renewed cohort of lightly parented adolescent males, and that translates into chaos in neighborhoods and schools come rain or shine.”

In other words, see, those dead folks down there? The ones who broke all those rules? Well, too bad and so forth, but, well, there are “limits to government’s abilities to know and control things.” That is to say, ignore those rules and you’re going to be poor and the feds cannot help you; it’s your own goddamn fault if you drown.

Poverty, ladies, you earned it, you eat it; nobody kept you down but yourselves. Don’t blame the white man! That’s Will’s whole message. To drive it home further he adds at one point that most Blacks are—voila!—middleclass! See? Racism’s done with! We can all make it here in God’s country! Unpureed horseshit. Most Black folks in fact are still working poor, and with jobs all but gone in the ghettoes so many still live in. But hey, man, Will says, “almost half live outside central cities.” Yeah, after having been pushed out of town by the white yuppie gentry…

Know what I think, aside from the fact that Will is a cheap racist fuck and a sexist dog too? I think he doesn’t want to pay taxes for federal relief. I can just hear him: Taxes? What good does that do? Those people don’t want help. Racism? What fucking racism? I thought we cleared that one! And—what’s that you’re saying? Unfunded schools? Well, er, ah— Low-paying jobs? No jobs at all? No job training, no child care, shit ghetto housing? Same as it’s been forever and ever? Well, yeah, but—huh? Racist police? Aw come on, don’t you get it? That’s law and order! And—whaddya mean, corrupt politicians and corporate ripoffs that left New Orleans belly up at the bank? That’s…entrepreneurs! They make things happen! But it’s hard! Hard business climate! You don’t understand… This is America! Land of the Free! For Christ fucking sake!

Hey look, you—you’ve got to stop with this crap! I told you! Those women, their kids, the gangbangers, looters—they’re dopefiends, they wouldn’t leave town! They had to stay close to the source, their connection! You heard Bill O’Reilly! God sent Katrina to clean that town up…

Geez, George, relax, take a pill! You want Oxycontin? Rush Limbaugh’s got some, I’ll call him…

Memo to Bush: You’re off the hook! George Will’s in your corner! The fact that you slashed FEMA’s budget to pay for that war in Iraq, and then put a horse judge in charge of the shop, and then shoved the shop down in Homeland Security’s basement, thereby ensuring those levies would crumble, and then sat around with your thumb up your ass while the Easy went under—with no medicine, water, or shelter or food, no way out of town for the poor folks—big fucking deal! Don’t sweat it! Yeah, people are pissed but, what the fuck. Just tell ‘em you’ll fix things and all that good shit, and then send in Dick Cheney’s old outfit to rip off what’s left, just like they’re doing in Iraq as we speak and, well, hell… Just give it a minute so things can cool down, all that blame shit and so forth, and then, well, we’ll see…

Slap a fresh coat of paint on Bourbon Street there and don’t let the poor folks come back and who knows? Las Vegas South? We know some guys who’d just love to get in on the ground floor of something like that! Hell, get things all fixed and then maybe ship in some Black kids to tapdance for quarters in front of casinos and good stuff like that. Make it, you know…cultural or something… As long as you don’t raise our taxes—and we know you won’t—hey, it’s party time, right?

You already sent in the clowns…