President Bush Will Have to Kill a Man to Get Some Goddamn Respect the commune's Ted Ted would like to know if you're talking to him, or the freakishly obese toddler to his right
Monday, Dec. 10, 2001
The time has come, and no one is happier than I am. The honus is on the
president to prove he’s a man. He’s been disrespected every which way by
everybody in the business. Celebrities, political commentators, foreigners
living abroad. Now the president has but one option to earn some respect: Kill
a man with his bare hands.
Yes, at this point, even shooting a man in a gunfight in the middle of the
day, high noon, will not get the president the respect he needs. He has waited
far too long to make an example out of some ballsy jackass badmouthing him.
The only way to get some goddamn respect at this point is a hands-on,
take-no-prisoners approach.
When you think of our least-respected presidents, you know, Gerald Ford, think
to yourself: Did he ever kill a man? Nope. Ford was not an elected official
either, let’s not forget that. He had more reason than anybody else to kill a
man, it was necessary for him to earn the public’s respect in a way no elected
official needs. Especially with that Chevy Chase smart-ass giving him the
business on Saturday Night Live each week. Sure, there are reports that Ford
rubbed out a guy here or there for making fun of him and his golfing
accidents, but without a body, without some verified film of it or whatever,
he’s a big pussy in the eyes of the nation—and our history books.
Who didn’t sit up and take notice when Reagan, his first week in office,
grabbed that cook in the White House kitchen and drowned him in the big pot of
clam chowder? All those wise-asses shut the fuck up real quick back then. The
statement was clear: Shut the fuck up now or you’re next.
Bush followed suit strongly, leading the charge into Panama in 1989, not even
a weapon in hand, and beating Manuel Noriega to death with a loaf of stale
bread, impaling him on an American flag that was left flying on the capitol
building for some months for all to see. A tough move, no doubt, he got some
respect with a capital R. And now, with the current president under such
strain and trial, a lot of pundits are asking: Like father, like son?
George W. Bush has but one course of action as I see it: The next time he’s
out in public somewhere, pick the biggest guy out of the crowd. And break him
like a goddamned baby. Whether or not the guy says anything, hell, he can even
be Bush’s biggest supporter, I don’t care, that’s the only way he’s going to get
props at this point. And weapons are out. Bare hands, kung fu or backstreet
brawler style, the kind of mano-a-mano the Ultimate Fighting Championship
founders would be proud of. If Bush’s shirt happens to tear and reveal his
ripped muscular physique, all the better. People need to be saying, for weeks
afterward, “Christ on the rag, did you see what the president did to that big
motherfucker on the White House lawn? I wouldn’t want to be that asshole,
that’s for sure.”
I have faith in the president. As his campaign slogan made clear, he comes
from a long line of ass-kickers goin’ way back. But now, if there was ever a
time, now is the time to prove it.
Milestones
the commune's scratch 'n sniff look at last year's office potluck
Opportunities
Pants a Capitalist
Free Virus Baggies
Take a Kitten, Please
the commune book selections
the commune's Bear in Rearview
the commune's Big Book of Duke
Faces of the commune
the commune 100: Leaders and Revolutionaries
the commune 100: Traitors and Noodledicks
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