As we approached the hour of our liberation I was inspired by President Bush to express my feelings about his Presidency
Good riddance President Bush,
Our second King George.
You have committed so many intolerable acts.
Go now to your ex-Presidential exile before I throw my shoes at you.
Your crime against our humanity is so vast:
Eight years of our opportunities you squandered,
Our democracy you perverted,
The immoral war you started,
The lives you wasted,
The bodies blown apart, -
While you joked about the WMD:
Are they under here? -
Under where?
Underwear?
On that guy's head, the guy with the electrodes! Ha, ha, ha. -
Pushing torture to the edge of organ failure,
Justice corrupted by power and your Monica,
The education not attained,
Our money stolen,
Our potential unfulfilled,
Our progress stalled,
Our planet imperiled by your stunning misleadership
which you do not regret,
which you vainly claim history will vindicate
because no one has attacked us since 9/11
except you.
Go now!
We exult in your departure.
We have survived your misrule.
You forever provide example to us to know
what a president should never be.
Take your leave of us, we the 'Mericun People,
and some Freedom, the word you most, like, you know, overuse, we will know!
We are free of you and your corrupt gang of traitors:
Cheney, Rice, Feith, Yoo, Gonzales, Rumsfeld, Rove.
Let us name names and keep naming them!
We might have prosecutions and respect for the law,
if our Representatives thought we could handle the truth
about you,
and about them, the lies you told and they believed
or were too scared to speak about,
but instead we will Move On as we never did from blowjobs,
for there will be no Starr Fucker Chamber to whiff out the facism
hanging around us still.
Yet, be forewarned that citizen shoes may come flying at anytime
until you discover the strength to ask for our forgiveness
after you have testified to all that you did and did not do
while you feigned to defend the Constitution.
Perhaps then, out of pity for an emperor so unclothed,
we might divert your extraordinary rendition to Baghdad
and send you to Mt. Elba with your favorite cologne, -
but we know instead you will buy 10 gallon hats to wear
while you clear the brush in the already landscaped lawn
of your new Park Cities palace, making up stories
to tell the ghostwriter of your memoir, If I Did It.
You will come out to the ballpark,
give an interview to Bret on Fox,
and get back to wildcatting for that black elixir, good PR.
And if I ever see you, I'll know just what to say.
As Dick said to Pat, Go fuck yourself.