State of the Union Speech a Repeat

fter the excitement of the sports-dominated weekend, Americans faced a rush of new programming afterward, with the exception of some repeats, most notable among them the State of the Union address Tuesday night by President George W. Bush.

Controversy has surrounded the address, as Republicans are quick to agree with Bush's support of tax cuts and military action against Iraq, Democrats aim to poke holes in the president's poor domestic policies, and most Americans convinced the speech is the same one given at the last State of the Union.

"I don't know," said Indianapolis, IN shop teacher Milton Haig, "they kept telling me it was new. I keep thinking I saw some people who weren't there last time, in the audience or in the background… but I'm pretty sure I saw it last time it was on and it was the same thing."

Some would not even entertain doubts about the broadcast, which the White House claims was entirely new material written and beamed live to America Tuesday, January 28, 2003.

"Of course it was a repeat," said Kitty Wong, Big Tobacco publicist. "I remember it clearly when it first aired. Bush said something about terrorism, then he said Saddam Hussein was evil and the U.S. was ready to go to war. Oh, and he said something about tax breaks because the economy can't grow unless people are out spending money and such. Yeah, sure I remember it well—I've seen it at least twice, probably more than that. That's like the Christmas episode or something they drag out whenever they need to fill a slot."

The Bush White House insisted the broadcast was a brand new speech.

"Of course it was a new State of the Union," said antagonistic press secretary Ari Fleischer. "The president, no president, has ever run a repeat of the State of the Union address and President Bush would not be the first—and quit making those little hand 'quote' signs whenever you say President. Tuesday night, despite these rumors and claims, the president put forth a new agenda to lower taxes and stimulate the economy, while clearly outlining his plan to hold Saddam to the disarmament promise he made years ago. And if that takes military force, then we'll use it. That's all new, folks."

The confusion is understandable, said former Newstime editor and quotable commentator Reg Sallad.

"Sometimes news doesn't move as fast as expected, and particularly in a down economy, the president likes to keep attention on foreign issues and potential enemies, and Saddam Hussein has been the outstanding villain for Republicans for more than a decade," said Sallad solemnly. "During periods of prosperity or extreme economic desperation, Americans feel there is no excuse for increasing military spending and sending American troops into war. Americans may be confusing the repetition in party soundbytes since they haven't really changed for either party in at least ten years. Or, it's entirely possible it was just a lame repeat."

Despite the assertion by most politicians that the speech was new and worth discussing, there doesn't seem to be much call for Americans to care either way.

Johann Regal, a Butte, Montana soccer coach: "At least the new TV shows are back on. There's an all-female Fear Factor that looks really hot, and that new Survivor, too. It's about time, those networks were stretching for filler programming lately. Did you see Tuesday night? They were running some 1989 speech by Bush, like right before the Gulf War started."

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Sorry, pardon the bad attitude, but I'm fresh out of condoms. What really pisses me off is that it probably won't make a difference. Think about it for a minute, if running out of rubbers is going to change your day at all and you'll probably get pissed off, too. So let's both get pissed off and dig in.

I probably wouldn't be so dang incensed if I had actually used it in some fashion, even heroin smuggling, but no, I gave it away out of the goodness of my heart. Just some kid who gave me a hard-luck story about not having any money and needing a prophylactic, so I loaned him one—to be paid back with interest. I thought I was doing a good deed! No, turns out this kid just puts it on like a hat and runs off and I find out later he's some lunatic who's scammed sixty free rubbers off of suckers like me. The world's a sad place sometimes.

Oh, I just saw jackass: the movie, by the way. So what's the big deal? Seems like any normal weekend with your buddies and a trunk full of beer to me. Putting a taser to your nutsack and jumping out of a tree with a bungee cord attached to your underwear isn't even a memorable weekend on my block. Those jackass guys should bring me aboard as a consultant or something. I have a brilliant idea for a sequel, and I've tried it before so I know it works—it involves two hundred chocolate bars, a bag full of marmosets, and a high school bully who works in a hospital burn ward lately. That's all I'm saying until we ink a deal, this cow don't give away milk for free.

This just fresh in from the list of things that pisses me off: You're sitting there, trying to enjoy a Captain D's shrimp dinner with hush puppies and some pre-teen priss in a pink sweater materializes on the TV and asks, "Can we talk about something personal?" Not if you want this shrimp to stay down, Sabrina. There is no way, no matter how loud you yell, to cut this discussion off before it starts. I don't know why these nasty tarts are asking me if they can talk about it when they know I can't answer, like they just want to taunt me. Mark my words, if I ever see one of these stuck-up debutantes sitting in a restaurant enjoying snails and squid I'm going to pull up a chair and start talking loudly about that bout of crabs back in 1993.

I've been watching TV Land all this week and had a scary thought: If aliens were receiving our broadcast signals and watching only TV Land, they would assume Scott Baio held a very high position in our government, like a world leader or something, mayhap even a god. Between Charles in Charge and Happy Days there is a vast over-representation of Scott Baio in our TV history. It keeps me up some nights thinking about it. Our best hope, if this were the case, is that all those commercials for scrubbing bubbles would scare the aliens into thinking we had nano-technology that would destroy them.

I'm developing my own take-off on that Kevin Bacon game, and I'm planning on calling it "Stu Umbrage's Six Hyperlinks to Amazon.com." Your friends come over, they all write down various word strings and dump them into a bowler hat, and people draw the word strings and search Yahoo or Hotbot or something for them, then they have six hyperlinks to get to Amazon.com from any of those sites. First person wins it all! In case you're wondering, I plan on selling the bowler hats for the game and I will make a killing. I'll be like that Pet Rock guy nobody remembers.

I had planned on launching a political diatribe concerning the recent elections, but you can see where all that ranks in the Stu Umbrage animal kingdom. Frankly, I'm bored with voting and supporting candidates. They started generating politicians out of a machine a few years ago and none of them are interesting to watch or listen to anymore—which is how they get elected, I guess. I'm looking for a political firebrand to earn my vote. If anybody wants to take care of insane condom bums and the Scott Baio TV Land inundation, I personally promise you a write-in vote the next go-round.

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I'm madder than a skunk who smells like flowers. 'Cause they usually smell like ass, is what I mean.

I just found out there's a usurper to my crown. That's how my sister, Cassandra, phrased it, and it seemed to fit pretty well. Really Branaghian or something. A usurper, for those of you who don't have a smart lawyer sister to tell you, is a real bitch who thinks she's hot shit and tries to steal what you own right out from under you. Picture Christina Aguilera snaking Britney's number one spot with a cheesy cover of some New Edition song.

The tart's name is Jayme Kristofson, and I know that's totally made up. Her real name's probably Shirley Hemphill or something, but she's all showbiz-smart and is trying to steal all my thunder. Her first target is the Metallichick comic book I do. I was too late to notice and before I knew it she went from being some kind of rabid comic book fan—I should have known something was wrong when a girl said she liked comic books—to Nat Herschel's girlfriend. Nat, if you're reading this, if I got the website address right for the first time, she's playing you, dude. I'm sorry I couldn't tell you to your face, but you were ignoring me and had your ears covered and shit. It's called denial, dude—look into it. But you should know better—no one with a body like that really thinks an Elfquest T-shirt is cool. Face facts, man.

I've had my share of hot-to-trot actresses trying to horn in on my business over the years, I'm no newcomer. There was this short teen-ager who used to stand in for me when I was on Who's Your Daddy? and she was always saying she could rehearse a scene in my place when I was too hungover to do it. She knew how to climb the ladder, always getting coffee for the other castmembers and complimenting the director on his work. But I was a smart kid, and Dusty had friends in the cement business who made sure she broke her leg and couldn't stand in so well afterwards. It's a rough game, that's all I got to say. Don't walk in to a fight without someone covering your back.

There are other examples, too, but some of those I was well over 18 and could legally be considered an accomplice, so let's just skip to the point: I know hardball. If this bitch wants to play, I'm bringing my ball. So to speak.

She may be pinning Nat's tail on the donkey, and suggesting costume changes and cover ideas and whatever, but if she thinks she's going any further than that, she don't know Clarissa Coleman. I can bide my time, I can wait in the shadows, but I'll get you in the end. I don't need Dusty's friends to keep you from stealing my role. Especially not since they're all in their mid-90s by now.

Besides, just between you and me, she'll never fit into the costume. Not without hoarding half the world's supply of Kleenex. Not that I'm scared or anything. The fans wouldn't accept it. They're used to my angry growl on the cover of that book each month. Some people may argue you can only see the bottom 25% of my face, like Nat once did, but I say it's enough to tell the difference between a genuine talent and a hack sleeping her way to the—well, slightly elevated above the bottom, anyway.

Truthfully, I'm not even all that happy with this assignment. Posing in a goofy vinyl/plastic costume with a big-ass sword in a freezing basement is good when you're just starting out, but I can do much better, as I keep telling people. But at this point, even if I wanted to leave the job, I wouldn't. She needs to be put in her place but good. If I let her steal this from me, even if I don't want it, the next thing I know she'll be showing up on the Archipelago Law reunion ten years from now. Then I'd have to get that sword out for real.

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