Does George Bush Bother You?
By Peter Fredson
March 11, 2006
I don't care how much brush George cuts down on that ex-pig farm that he calls a ranch. I don't care how many barbecues he has there, or if he strums a guitar, eats cake, watches TV, eats pretzels, rides bicycles, or gets on with his life in Crawford, Texas. He can spend his entire life strutting, swaggering, and smirking there. In fact, he can do anything the Texas Rangers will not stop. That doesn't bother me.
As long as it does not affect me, he can swim naked, rant and rave at this family, scratch his butt, take pills, pray day or night, eat crackers in bed, catch crawfish, shake dandruff off his head, squeeze a pimple, play the hump-backed beast with Laura, or sodomize Karl Rove. Whatever. I couldn't care less.
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