Bush Wishes Everyone Liked Tool As Much As He Does

resident Bush stated Sunday that he wished everyone was into Tool as much as he is. Though he did not name names, the president implied everyone surrounding him, from his wife Laura Bush to Secretary of State Colin Powell, did not enjoy the hard rock band on the same level he does.

"I mean, they 'like' Tool and all," stated the president, "but it's just not the same. They like Tool like they won't turn them off if they're on the radio or something. I like Tool like I want to put in the CD and jam, you know, to sing along to all the songs, even the ones most people don't know. I know all their albums and who played on each song by heart. Nobody I know likes Tool like that, nobody."

Attorney General John Ashcroft confirmed the president's feelings.

"Tool's not bad, I'm not saying that. It's just… I don't know, I'm not into it at all, really. Not too hard for me or nothing, I don't think, I just prefer other kinds of stuff. If I want to listen to something heavy I usually go for Rammstein or stuff like that. Most of the time I just listen to Creed. I like Creed and nobody around here does. You don't see me flipping out and whining about it."

The president, a reported Tool fan since his days as Governor of Texas when the band released Aenima, has tried since then to get everybody into Tool, from South African president Nelson Mandella to his daughters.

"Bar's into that really gay new country and Jenna just likes Jimmy Buffett. I swear, I don't know whose kids they are, but they didn't get that from me," said the president.

Unable to share his love for the band with surrounding friends, family members, and staff, the president has turned to Tool message boards and chat rooms, where his login name is usually Prisonsex2000.

"This guy the other day wouldn't shut up about 'Sober,' like it's their best song ever and, man, it was just so clear this guy was a newbie. Me and the other fans at toolbox.com were just all straight-faced, like, 'Yeah, man, that's sure 'nuff it!' I mean, don't get me wrong, 'Sober' kicks ass, no one will say it doesn't, but no one who's a Tool fan needs to be told that, right?"

Tool has been instrumental in Bush's life since he discovered them as Governor of Texas. He even credits his decision to run for president because of his love for hard rock music, stating to several press groups in 1992 that America could do better than a Fleetwood Mac fan as president.

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The president took an honest and sincere step toward covering up the recent questions of intelligence (the CIA's, not his) with his creation of a bipartisan (emphasis on the "partisan") commission this week. But the question remains: Are we supposed to buy this bullshit?

That question aside, and the answer is obviously a resounding "yes," issues still remain about the quality of intelligence the administration is receiving about terrorism. If the CIA thinks there are large deposits of chemical or biological weapons in an underdeveloped nation like Iraq, based, I might add, on some barbershop rumor floating around Nigeria, what does this mean for the safety of the country? Are we pretty much left at the mercy of the incompetence of terrorists? Much like they are left at the mercy of our own incompetence.

It might be easier for the American public if they knew exactly how intelligence is gathered for the purposes of national security. First and foremost, we buy it. Any episode of Starsky & Hutch should display this adequately. Foreign equivalents of Huggy Bears come nosing around our embassies, and back alley deals galore abound.

The second way is the kind we think of it most often: large, burly American national security agents wearing fake beards and dressed in swami hats and Lawrence of Arabia robes. These are the real heroes, the deceitful, backstabbing undercover agents who get the secretest information straight from the horse's mouth by putting their lives on the line in barely plausible disguises. There is no more dangerous job in the world, except for being an employee of Phil Spector. Many is the time some jihad-crazy Muslim terrorist flips out and frisks you to yell out, "Abdul's wearing a wire!" It's all over then, sir.

There is also what the government calls "option three": Kicking in doors of suspected terrorists, arresting them on suspicion and searching their base of operations without warrant. Right now this is still hard to do overseas, with their difficult laws preventing illegal search and seizure, at least in the more Westernized countries and some of the third world, but rollback in constitutionally-guaranteed rights in the states has made it a lot easier to fight terrorism on our own turf. We might have to annex the world before they agree.

So whose balls were dropped on this particular outing? Democrats suggest the administration manipulated intelligence to manufacture consent for an unjustifiable war with Iraq. Plausible, yes, and even the most likely case, which makes it a poor choice to discuss in this column. So I point the blame squarely at the acting schools in this country.

What kinds of intelligence operatives are we turning out? Nervous, jittery young rubes who make poor choices in their acting and offer only an overbaked performance any first-year Hamas fanatic could see through. Our guys show up on their doorsteps, spewing anti-American rhetoric in a British accent because it's all they can do, and the terrorist masterminds of the world are laughing at us. They tell our guys six or seven times a month they're ready to launch a major attack on our soil, when in fact their biggest effort is not to giggle while they discuss fake plans to use dirty bombs and chemical agents.

Hopefully this nine-person distraction Bush is calling a bipartisan commission will get right to the heart of our off-off-Broadway operatives. We're the richest nation on the planet, and our security is something we should not be paying half-price for. I say, shell out the $20 million for Pacino. De Niro, Hoffman, any of these guys. We should at least be able to afford Billy Dee Williams. He was fantastic in Mahogany.

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Yes. I'm calling from American Home Prospectors and I was wondering if I could have a moment of your time. We'd like you to take a little test for us, as we're attempting to gauge the general public's knowledge on the subject of various flavors of fruit bats. Yes it will just take a moment. Please answer the following questions to the best of your ability, choosing the answer that you feel is most correct.

How many bottles of beer are there on the wall?
a) Ninety-nine.
b) Different bottles or the identical pairs?
c) What wall? The China Wall? Seventeen.
d) Who the crap glued all my beers to the wall?

If you wrote a sonnet for a comet, where would you tell the senate to go cram it?
a) Right behind the kneecap.
b) Delaware.
c) Up a monkey's bellybutton.
d) Dinah Shore.

How many ripples are there in Ted Kennedy's nipples?
a) Seven.
b) Forty-two.
c) That's like counting grains of sand on a beach.
d) Ga-barf!

If you whistled for a taxi, and a Nazi came instead, what would you do?
a) Pull the ripcord on my weasel.
b) Dinah Shore.
c) Spank out the beat to "Cherry Pie" on a street vendor's ass.
d) Play Yahtzee with the Nazi, silly.

What's the fastest land mammal?
a) Landmammal Gonzalez.
b) The newt.
c) That little bitch that gave me the herpies.
d) A cheetah what ate some hot sauce.

What's the last thing he said before you pulled the trigger?
a) "Wait. The aliens told you what?"
b) "Whatever dude, fine. I like the hat. Shit."
c) "I love this song! I get knocked-down, then I get up aga-"
d) "All I'm sayin' is a I charge double to tattoo backwards, ya nutbar."

What's the last can you opened?
a) Lima beans from 1982. Thought they were refried beans from 2001.
b) Extra-large whup-ass.
c) Stall #47, Grand Central Station, NY. Unflushed.
d) Proctology school, the day before career change.

We'd like to thank you for your participation in this survey. Your answers will help us ascertain who will make the best protein paste when the robots take over and we become their food source. Have a nutritious day.

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