mid rampant speculation that either Vice President Dick "Dick" Cheney or presidential brother and hick-state governor Jeb Bush might run for the Republican presidential nomination in '08, current president and term-limit victim George W. Bush has shocked a sleepy and dispassionate nation with the news that he plans to run again in 2008. Though Constitutional scholars and small children both agree that this should be impossible, Bush assured a gaggle of reporters on Sunday that he does indeed have a plan.

"You guys worry too much! Relax, take a nap, I've got it all worked out. Sure, the George Bush you know and have elected to president some number of times is running up against that tired old 'term limits' bugaboo. But under a different name, or after just changing a few letters in my old one, I think I should be able to sail right through the system just fine. Wink, wink."

(The president actually said "wink, wink" here, rather than actually winking. We don't know what the fuck that was about.
-Ed)

"I used this same idea to sign up for the BMG CD club seven or eight times," continued the president. "Trust me, it works. Whether you're voting for Georgie W. Bush or G. Walker Busher in 2008, you'll know the score. Sure, George Bush is a name you've come to know and trust over the three terms that a president has had that name. But why not give Jorge Bosh a chance? He's got some familiar policies, he looks like a president, and he's got the taste adults have grown to love. He's grreeeeeeat!"

At the end of his statement, Bush punched the air like a famous cartoon tiger, greatly worrying most everyone in the room. The president's remarks were met by a stunned silence from the crowd, and a lone, confused request for "Freebird."

When asked what he thought of the president's chances of pulling off such a daring standing broad jump over the U.S. Constitution, Constitutional scholar and commune vending machine restocker Dennis Kurd refused to change the subject away from who had been using a glass cutter to steal Baby Ruths off the bottom row.

commune Answerbot Griswald Dreck was more helpful, taking a break from an intense Joust battle with mail clerk Lefty Gomez to address the legal ramifications of Bush wiping his ass on the Constitution.

"This is a classic case of seniority, open and shut," explained Dreck. "The 22nd Amendment to the Constitution has been going strong since it was ratified in 1951 to finally get rid of FDR, who had been elected sixteen times in a row, four of those after he died. Voters were also concerned about being bored by presidents who might keep un-retiring hundreds of times like Michael Jordan, except they didn't know who Michael Jordon was back then, so they said Wilt Chamberlain. Most think this Amendment to be unstoppable, but one must also consider the other hand, which can fill up with shit fast. George Bush has been doing whatever the hell he wanted to since 1946, a full five years before the 22nd Amendment was even suckling at its mother's paper titty. Fate, gross incompetence, and common sense all appear powerless to end his streak, so I say he takes the Constitution in four rounds. Place your bets now and avoid the lines."

Analysts remain undecided about what effect a third Bush term might have on the nation's fragile liberal population, thought to be currently living in denial, or caves. The nation's humorists, however, have already begun gathering support for a new anti-term-limits Constitutional Amendment to protect their precious golden egg-shitting goose.

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I'm not that big a fan of talking. I don't know what the big deal is. It seems like it's basically impossible to find a girl to date who isn't constantly nagging you about that. "What do you want to eat? What are you thinking about? Why did you put my dog in that Ziplock bag?" I swear, if I wanted to be interviewed I'd show up at the airport with lit fuses sticking out of my shoes. I'm just trying to live my life here, not run around in some kind of non-stop monologue nightmare.

It's not just girls, either, there's all kinds of social situations where people just won't let you shut up. You go into a restaurant, and right away, somebody's asking you what you want. And even if you point politely at the menu they still won't leave you alone, they've got to ask for some kind of verbal confirmation. What are you, retarded? I pointed at the duck nuggets, didn't I? You think I'm the kind of person who silently points at food he doesn't want? Think again.

That's why I started eating at fast food places exclusively. It's way easier to gesture your way through a meal there since they've usually got the menu in big pictures over the cash registers. But some of those geniuses have a hard time following an imaginary line from your fingertip to the menu, everything's all "Oh, you want Big Mac?" Even at the Chinese place, weird as shit. And you wouldn't believe the trouble you can get into if you decide to make it easy for them and just reach over to press the cash register buttons yourself. It's like they think you need a degree in nuclear physics to run the thing. I've seen them press the "Slow Loris" button enough times, I know where it is. If you want to have a one-sided argument with me about it, I guess that's just your prerogative.

Nobody's worse about the "no talking" thing that people who call on the phone. Jesus. I don't know where these people come from. If you're going to contact me over a non-visual medium, at least have the courtesy to learn your Morse code, people. I'm willing to meet you half-way in the auditory department, and you're just shitting all over my diplomacy with your "Hello? HELLO?? Is there anybody there? I don't know, it's just this weird tapping noise. I think my phone's fucked up."

As you can imagine, I flunked speech class in college. I thought I could Pictionary my way through it, but my professor was a hard-ass about the talking part. And the rest of the class were horrible guessers anyway. A cow? If you people can't tell the difference between a horse and a cow, remind me never to accept a barbecue invitation over at any of your houses, all right? That was a hard year, both semesters. Eventually I got the requirement waived after arguing (in pictures) that speech class was an illogical requirement for a culinary arts degree.

Of course, that was before I discovered the cruel reality of the world, that nobody wants to hire a chef who doesn't talk. Talk about your discrimination, you're lucky if you can even get past the first interview.

I don't even want to get into the time I was asked to speak at my dad's funeral. There are still a lot of family members who haven't forgiven me for that Mexican standoff or the way the funeral home closed with all of us still in there. I've had half a mind to tell them all off, but they're even worse at Pictionary than my college class was.

But I've said too much already.

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Hey, Shorty, you got you another one o' them Moon Pies? No? Well, how 'bout you break me off a piece o' that one, then, huh? That looks like a good 'un... you can tell 'cause the chocolate's kinda turned color, like it's been in the wrapper for a couple months. That's when Moon Pies is best. Just like them marshmallow chicks and bunnies you get for Easter. I like to eat them about July or August or so. That's when they's best.

You know what they oughta make, Shorty? Marshmallow frogs and crawdads, is what. I betcha them'd sell real good. You could buy 'em to eat, or you could use 'em for bait. Yessir, I bet them'd be real popular.

You know, speakin' o' bait, d'I ever tell you about that time Jimmy Wayne and Everett was out fishin', and Jimmy Wayne won the Catfish Contest? That was the damnedest thing I ever did hear, and I heard some pretty weird stuff in my time, Shorty, you know I'm tellin' the truth about that. Ask anybody. Like how just the other night, Jimmy Wayne and Everett was out giggin' frogs, and Everett mistook ol' Jimmy Wayne's bare foot in the water for a frog, and he stabbed his gigger clean through it? You hear about that? Everett says it was a pure-dee accident, and that he ain't to blame anyway, on account o' him only havin' one eye and all. 'Course that don't mean much to ol' Jimmy Wayne at the time, 'cause there he is standin' in three feet o' water with a frog gigger stuck through his foot and blood gushin' out of it and all. Jiminy Christmas, he was mad. He was so mad he was vivid. I guess once they got that gigger out o' his foot, he was hoppin' mad.

But it ain't like he can say much to ol' Everett, after what happened in the Catfish Contest a few years back. You never heard about that, huh? Oh yeah. That's why ol' Everett wears that eyepatch, the one that makes him look like Blackboard the pirate.

See, they was fishin' in Jimmy Wayne's secret spot, but they wasn't havin' much luck. It was the last day o' the contest, and neither one o' them had anything worth throwin' on a scale. They was tryin' every kind o' bait they was; stink bait, chicken livers that sat in the sun too long, mackerel, nightcrawlers, doughballs and corn, everything, and they wasn't havin' much success. Ol' Jimmy Wayne was gettin' pretty frustrated, it bein' his lucky secret spot and all, and he was just about to give it all up and throw his whole rig in the water and go home. He figured he'd give it one more shot, though, and he loaded up his hook with a big ol' chicken liver. Only thing was, that chicken liver had sat too long, and had got kinda runny, so when he flipped his line back, it just went sailin' off his hook. He didn't even notice that, he just whipped his line around and cast it out as far as he could. Well, ol' Everett was sittin' right there, and that hook caught him square in the eyeball. Just ripped his whole eyeball right outta his head, clean as you could pull it out with a pair o' pliers.

Jimmy Wayne still didn't notice what had happened, so he just let that line fly, with ol' Everett's eyeball hangin' off his hook and everything. The line hit the water, and just as fast as a ol' jackrabbit humps his second cousin, the biggest catfish in the river swallows up ol' Everett's eyeball and is hooked but good. Everett stars screamin', on account o' all of a sudden he ain't got but one eye, and there's blood all over his face, and Jimmy Wayne starts screamin' 'cause he's just hooked into the biggest catfish this side o' the one that swallowed Jonah, and so there they was, both standin' there screamin' their fool heads off, with Jimmy Wayne thinkin' that Everett's screamin' about the fish and Everett thinkin' Jimmy Wayne's screamin' about his lost eyeball.

Well, it was a mess, but Jimmy Wayne was able to bring that fish in, and that's how he won the Catfish Contest. He used some o' the money he won to buy Everett that eyepatch, and he threw in a case o' Dixie beer on top of it, just 'cause he felt so bad. They was able to get ol' Everett's eyeball outta the catfish once Jimmy Wayne brought it down to the bait shop and weighed it, but by then it wasn't much good to Everett. Hell, it wasn't much good to the catfish by then, neither. Ol' Jimmy Wayne wanted to take it and use it for bait again, but Everett didn't much appreciate that idea.

That's why we always tell ol' Everett to keep a eye out for a nice catfish. You heard me say that to him before, right Shorty?

You know what they oughta make, Shorty? Marshmallow eyeballs. I bet them'd sell real good down at the bait shop. I betcha Jimmy Wayne'd buy 'em by the dozen.

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