Thursday, January 04, 2007
Postcards from The Kremlin
In an amteurish attempt at out-pooty-pootin' Putin, George Bush, in another infamous signing statement no doubt boldly stroked but poorly spelled, has decided it's within his dictates to pry that last piece of postalic privacy away from your rightful hands and into his demi-tsar-stained mitts for his perusal. Mitts, mind you, that have never been in a real scrape.
And there's the rub. Since he has never had to truly mix it up, George knows he would get an out-and-out, ole-timey butt-kickin' by his rival, Pooty, if such a grudge match were to take place. Unfortunately -- and at the receiving end of Bush's mal-machismotic, if not now wholly Katerinic complexity -- Americans get hit with the corporality of it along with cash payments due on delivery.
With privacy returned to sender and supposed sacred rights now lumped in with the junk-mailings, it shouldn't suprise people if the term 'going postal' takes new meaning.
And there's the rub. Since he has never had to truly mix it up, George knows he would get an out-and-out, ole-timey butt-kickin' by his rival, Pooty, if such a grudge match were to take place. Unfortunately -- and at the receiving end of Bush's mal-machismotic, if not now wholly Katerinic complexity -- Americans get hit with the corporality of it along with cash payments due on delivery.
With privacy returned to sender and supposed sacred rights now lumped in with the junk-mailings, it shouldn't suprise people if the term 'going postal' takes new meaning.
Labels: Bush, despotisions
