resident Bush's Thursday morning speech to the National Endowment for Democracy was greeted by supporters and detractors alike as an important milestone, outlining more clearly both the president's thought processes and his positions on topics ranging from global terrorism to the increasingly chaotic situation in Iraq.

"Every rose has its thorn," Bush explained, addressing questions about the higher-than-expected casualty rate for U.S. soldiers stationed in Iraq. "Just like every night has its dawn. Just like every cowboy… uhm. Hmm. Yep," Bush nodded to himself in closure on that thought.

"How do we explain something that took us by surprise?" Bush continued after a thoughtful pause, addressing his administration's planning for the post-war rebuilding of Iraq. "Promises in vain, what is real but in disguise. What happens now? Do we break another rule? Let the others play the fool? I don't know how to stop feeling this way…"

"Hold on to the nights," Bush continued, finding his voice in the words of popular poet Richard Marx before trailing off in dramatic fashion. "Hold on to the memories. Wish that I could give you more, that I could be your…"

Bush's comments were met by a stunned silence from the audience, except for one asshole who was waving a lighter. Coming under increasing pressure in recent months to justify the loss of life in Iraq, Bush also indulged the audience with his deepest philosophical thoughts on the subject of war and sacrifice.

"We are strong, no one can tell us we're wrong," explained Bush. "Lo... Iraq is a battlefield."

"Shooting at the walls of heartache, bang, bang. I am the warrior," Bush cocked his fingers in a pistol gesture to drive his point home.

"And heart to heart we'll win, if we survive," Bush assured onlisteners, possibly referring to the administration's campaign to win hearts and minds in the Middle East.

"Just a little more time is all we're asking for," Bush continued, amid questions of how long U.S. troops will remain in Iraq. "Cause just a little more time could open closing doors. Just a little uncertainty can bring you down. So if you're lost and on your own, you can never surrender. And if your path won't lead you home, you can never surrender."

"Never surrender!" repeated an excited Bush, striking something of a pose.

Addressing the recent flooding disasters in Louisiana, Bush dug deep again and offered words of consolation to the survivors, returning this week to their destroyed homes and ruined shit.

"Don't be afraid to lose what was never meant to be," consoled a paternal Bush. "After the rain washes away the tears, and all the pain, only after the rain can you live again. I know the emptiness you feel inside, you're thinking if you break away, you'll never survive. I'm waiting as my heart beats just for you. Come on and take my hand and I'll pull you through. But things will never change until you want them to."

"It cuts like a knife," Bush said in closing, when some wiseacre in the back row yelled a question about global terrorism. "Ooh, but it feels so right."

he White House, always on the search for rare species of human beings or close approximations, unearthed an impressive find last week: A female conservative. Defying usual stereotypes, the so-called "right-wing woman" is apparently not a career politician or from the deep rural South. In fact, she's completed higher education and appears to be not at all an idiot of any sort—though field-testing leaves the possibility open. And, perhaps most startling of all, the administration found the rare species in the most unlikeliest of places—within its own ranks.

The alleged female Republican is Harriet Miers, White House attorney and personal lawyer to the Bush clan for years. Born and raised in Dallas, a small state in the country of Texas, Miers earned several accolades for her legal work and previous appointments by Texas governor George W. Bush, no relation to the current president. Though she lacks any bench experience, discounting bus stops, Miers is a respected lawyer, despite being personal attorney to the president and the White House counsel.

The president, sorely in need of just such an animal, nominated the conservative woman for the Supreme Court immediately. It's a move that fits the Bush dynasty tradition, given President George Bush I nominating ultra-rare find conservative black man Clarence Thomas to the court in 1990. At the time, the senior Bush ignored several charges of sexual harassment and a bench history of seat-filling rather than leading, promoting the move as a huge victory for diversity.

"The Democrats want to cater to special interest groups and make nominations to curry votes," said Bush. "My administration is truly interested in minorities—real minorities. Right-wing blacks, archconservative women, gay members of the NRA, born-again Christian Jews. If you're one of a kind and can't find a friend in the world, maybe I'll put you on the Supreme Court!"

Little boy Bush was equally proud of his unique find.

"I'll tell you, soon as I found Ms. Miers here, I wanted to mount her," said the president, awkwardly laughing alone at his own joke during the press conference to announce the nomination. "You know… 'mount her' like… like a tiger I hunted and killed or something. Not like… you know. Kill her and stuff her kind of mount her. 'Cause she's rare and all. Special. Not that I wanted to kill 'er or anything. Not really. I just… maybe like a butterfly. Shove a huge pin through her. I'm not really gonna do it or anything, but you know what I mean…"

Despite our knowing the intention, the president carried on for a few more minutes to explain the poor joke. Reporters eventually interrupted to ask questions about Miers' qualifications, and the conservative response to the fact Miers has no history on the bench to judge her politics by.

"Gentlemen… and girl reporters, too: We can't get side-tracked on politics at a time like this. We were lucky to find a lady Limbaugh fan, and I'm darn well going to make sure she gets rewarded for being one of a kind. We have the space on the Supreme Court now, we needed a woman, and I'm pretty sure she fits the bill. We'll have doctors verify she's what she claims to be, but assuming that all works out, I think you're gazing at one heck of a Ultimate Justice. Whatever they're called."

Miers herself towed the official line, pledging her service to the Bush Round Table, but did let slip that years of settling the president's dirty out-of-court business finally paid off.

There must be some sort of law that says I, Rok Finger, can never live next to a normal neighbor. Well, I suppose the neighbors on the other four sides are normal enough. But that doesn't excuse the fact my neighbors to the right are the most obscene excuses for homeowners you've ever seen. You have seen them, haven't you? Leaving their vehicles on the lawn, setting fire to things at all odd hours, walking around the neighborhood in full Nazi regalia. I am not kidding—these are neighbor freaks.

They are the Joneses, if that is their real surname. I'm not sure if they're Eastern European or Russian or what, but they are clearly not indigenous to the area. They claim to be from Mississippi, but their accents are the worst I ever heard. If people in Mississippi all talk like that, I don't know how they ever get anything done—nobody could possibly understand that gibberish. Come to think of it, I'm not sure they get anything done in Mississippi at all. But that's another column.

Don't try complaining to the neighborhood block association either. There's clearly a strong foreigner sympathy streak running through them—maybe they have a soft spot for those who live behind the Iron Curtain, I don't know. But they always take their side. They let them burn animals at all weird animals, calling it "barbecue," an American tradition. But you throw firecrackers at one cat and all of a sudden they're the SPCA.

Nazi-lovers, too, obviously. You'd think that would faze their liberal sensibilities, but they just became very offended and told me I was mistaken. I know the symbols of hate when I see them, good people. A vicious eagle swooping down on the poor and defenseless, and he has it all over his little stormtrooper outfit. Blue shorts and short-sleeved shirt, and that huge bag of dastardly evil he carts around everywhere. If he does work for the post office like the block association says, than how come a different man delivers my mail every morning? Caught you in a lie, Sigfried.

And those little miniature dwarf spies of theirs leave their riding instruments in the yard all day long. For quick and easy get away, should the FBI ever come in, guns blazing, to finally do their job. I've called them three times now and all I've gotten is a tap on my phone and a flower delivery van sitting outside my house. Where are those damned flowers anyway? They should have been here four days ago.

Ginger, the missus, my missus, says I shouldn't worry about it. Especially since I only go outside to throw firecrackers at passing animals. I'm inside every single hour I'm not at the commune, it shouldn't bother me, she says. But it's for her sake I'm worried. What happens when these Nazi freaks kick open the door and try to drag her away to a concentration camp? Or worse, a fat kids camp? Ginger's practically a size 5 now, she'd waste away down to nothing in one of those horrors of human nature. But I do have to go to work sometime. Red Bagel is starting to suspect that beard on Camembert isn't real, and as soon as he remembers I don't wear a beard anyway, my job may be in the stew.

So I'm going to buy a gun. Long and short of it. Hey! Long and short… barrels are long and short. That was almost a pun. But not quite.

Ignoring that, believe me, a gun is the best solution. In fact, I may buy two, since if I'm attacked by multiple opponents, it looks pretty ridiculous to slide across a floor, one gun blazing, to take them all out. And my biggest fear, other than my wife being subjected to inhuman torture, is looking stupid while killing attackers. So… I suppose I'll let you know how this gun thing works out.

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