Monday, August 15, 2005

The Crawford Diaries 

bush diariesI like it here. It's quiet.

I kin do some reflectin' and some cogitation-izin'.

Dear Diary,
I thought it important to write you at this pertnint time.


Dearest Diary,
How are you this evening?

Nooo. Try agin'...

Dear Diary,
It's me, George. George Bush. George W. Bush.

No, no, no that don't sound right neither. To formal. Too inty-LECTUAL. Need to be more plain speakin-like. This diary writin' thing ain't as easy as I thought it would be. Havin' a hard time gettin' started here. 'Specially with all that fugue music piano playing upstairs. And all that marching back and forth is makin' the floorboards rattle. Makes me jumpy. I don't like feeling jumpy. I like it when Condi plays that rag-time. I like that. I like that song she plays from that movie... "The Sting". Yeah, I like that movie song. I like that a lot. Kinda jaunty. A jaunty theme song. Yep. I like feelin' jaunty. I like theme songs too. Don't like feelin' jumpy. Jess jaunty. Good 'en jaunty. ... jaunty be good!... het, het, het, het, het.... git down... You like that too Barney!, het, het ...yeah... Ok ok, where was I... diary, writing to the diary... here we go...

Dear Diary,
Today is August. Sunday. Sunday night in August. The 14th Sunday in August. In the year of our Lord 2005.

I decided to write to you about my struggle. The hard work I do here. Hard work and relaxation. I like to do hard work and relax. Get it all down on paper. Yep. My Struggle. That's a good name for a book. Run that idea'r by Karen. See if she likes it too.

I like writing to you diary. This is fun. Barney likes it too. I like dogs. I like to come down here when it gets too noisy in the house. Come down here. Me and Barney in the bunker. Get away from it all. Like a vacation house inside a vacation house. Do some thinkin' 'bout stuff. Do some writin'. Get my proorities in order. Gotta have proorities. Gotta have proorites in a orderly fashion. Keep it simple. Keep it orderly. Be on time.

Still got that scary mother camped out there on the road somewhere. I got my people keepin' an eye on her though. Keepin' a vigil. Remain vigilant. Operation Wide-Awake Vigilant. That's what we call it here. I like to remind people to remain vigilant. Resolute. Steely resolute! Yep, I'm a steely resolute person. Noisy upstairs. Hard to write with all that racket. Saudis is clog dancing and hootin it up with the twins again. I can hear em' all up there now. They sure as hell is wide-awake.

Barney hear em too? Don't be gittin' skittish Barney, eat yer brownie there, Laura made it fer ya special. Maybe I should go up there and tell em to settle down. Nah, maybe not, that wouldn't be good... can't do that, wouldn't be the right thing to do, wouldn't be diplomatic. Wouldn't be neighborly. Gotta love yer neighbor like ya love yerself. 'Specially if yer neighbor has sevr'al billion dollars worth a oil squirtin' up outta their back yard sand box. het, het. What the hell, they like to watch the twins do that high-kickin' cowgirl can-can dancin' anyway, het, het, that is pretty entertainin'. Reminds me of the time I was.... uh, ah, nevermind... wheres my magic marker... I like my magic markers... Barney, git over here!... git now... don't be peein' on my mom's bench press!... I told you before about that....

Dear Diary. Resumin' my entry here: Night time, August 14. Took Barney for a walk. Outside. I like to go outside too. Both Barney and I like to go outside. Starry night. The stars shine bright. Deep in the heart of Texas. I like poems. I like jaunty poems. I lke bluebonnets and poems. And starry nights. I like walkin' in the bluebonnets. I don't tell a lot of people that but I feel comfortable tellin' you Diary.

Walked hand in hand through the bluebonnets with my good friend the Crown Prince Abdullah. A jaunty walk. I like jaunty walks. About a week or two ago. I like to call him "Dooley". King "Dooley" Abdullah the Saudi sandman. LOL. The monarch, the future. Praise be unto Allah. We had a nice time.

I like the way he squeezed my hand once when I almost tripped in a stump hole. Caught my balance, assured me everything would be ok. Gave me a good feelin' in my heart. Made me feel secure. Sprinkle a little of that magic Saudi sand in my eye at night and I drift off like a lazy slug-a-bed. LOL! Did i mention Prince Turki gave Laura a solid gold bowling ball the other afternoon. He sure did. Big shiny one too. A real beauty. I can hear it rolling around in the hallway upstairs right now. Cheney likes to watch the twins get tight 'en chase it around in their underwear. I'm surprised that ain't gave the old fool another blowout! LOL! Just kiddin'. I kid Uncle Dick.

I should probbly erase that last pary-graph. 'Specially that part about Preznit, I mean Vice Preznit Cheney, and the twins and the bowlin ball...that sounds a little weerd...het, het... that part about the sandman is probbly a little comp-ro-mizin' too.... damn... can't erase magic marker... I shouldn't a done that... oh, George... maybe I kin erase it with some lighter fluid.... smear it around... smear it around...uh boy... I don't need this.... and that sceery mother is still out there in the dark. I kin sense the lights of the 'campment, the biv-oo-ak, as Rummy likes to call it. I kin sense it out there. She's gonna be lookin' fer me tomorrow too. Huntin' me like a dirty animal! Tryin' to question my steely re-solve. Who does she think she is anyway!!

Maybe I should close the road. Close the road like they done in Gaza! Send in a helicopter gunship to blast her peace-creep ass outta there. Git that neighbor fella up the road to plant some rattle-snakes in their porta potties...heh heh... holy shit... that'd take some explainin' - heh heh - heh heh -- ok, feelin' woozie here... what would The Monarch do? I needa' settle down... settle, settle... Barney!, I asked ya not to do that sort of thing to my moms leather medicine ball... it looks obscene...

Moms. Sceery moms. Some people out there even comparin' the one up the road to Jesus. I seen it on the internets this afternoon. Some people sayin' maybe even Jesus sent her. Holy son-of-a-bitch. I can't be lobbin' mortars at Jesus fer Christ's sake!

Git a hold of yerself bucko. It's jess one mom. Jess a reg'lar sceery mom. Ain't no messenger of the peace God or nuthin freeky like that. Some kinda pilgrim maybe, at the most, but not some kind of emmy-sary of the Lord. I needa' git a hold a that weasle stomping despot Ratzinger in the morning. See if he's got any line on this. Strangle this outrage in it's crib. Git those two bootleg pulpit hicks in Virginia off their fat asses too. This is bullshit.

Screechin mother of Jeziss where the hell is that screwfly Rove when I need him. Time to put an end to this angel of peace bullshit. Next thing ya know some nut will recognize the bitch on a slice of toast or a grilled ham steak and the whole business will be all over... all over the Larry King Show and... oh shit....!

BARNEY! Didn't I ask ya nice before not ta do that sort a thing on my moms favor-ite blood stained rubber wrasslin' mat! It was a gift from the Harris County Department of Corrections. Now we're gonna have to go outside agin' and get all shwetty and overheated....

Dear Diary,
How's it going. Look, I gotta go. Gotta go now. Things are gettin' ugly here and Barney's digestive system is actin' funny. The crazy noise upstairs has gone silent ----- yup, silent... and i'm not even sure what time it is. I think it's Monday. I gotta get a bead on things here before the sun comes up or I'm gonna be screwed. Screwwwwd! Do some brush clearin' if ya know what I mean. I really like you diary. Yer a good friend. Had a good time talkin' with ya. I'll be back diary.. I'll be back... you can count on me.... operation steely resolve.... yeah, thats it... I'll have to talk with Karen about that one too... this is my struggle diary.... my struggle. Yours truly, GW.


corrente SBL - New Location
~ Since April 2010 ~

~ Since 2003 ~

The Washington Chestnut
~ current ~

Subscribe to
Posts [Atom]


copyright 2003-2010

    This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?