November 20, 2008
Fin de Siecle Contest
This was kind of hurried because I've been on con calls since about 7 this morning.
I thought a game might be kind of fun. Every year when the Bulwer-Lytton contest results come out, we have traditionally done a story around them. The most epic of these storytelling exercises was over at Jet Noise: Brett Barboursville and the Case of the Hairy Egyptian. It inspired spd and MathMom to heights of... well, I'll let you all read for yourselves :p
Anyway, this year since so many things appear to be coming to an end, I thought it might be fun to give it a twist and write ending lines for either the Bush administration or the war. So here's a bad ending line to get you all started:
As George W. Bush ("The Shrub", that retarded yet fiendishly clever Chimperor-in-Chief who had twice managed to defeat two vastly smarter opponents) handed the Oval Office keys to his wildly popular successor, he pretended not to notice the brilliant sunbeam that had finally broken through the dark clouds hanging over Washington, DC to anoint Obama's gleaming forehead, the annoying unicorns and butterflies chasing Barney all over the Rose Garden, or the perfect rainbow suspended over the Capitol Building like the promise of a New Deal for the American People; but as he slunk away surreptitiously draining the final ounce of baby's blood from the purloined skull of an endangered arctic timber wolf and contemplated the barren years ahead bereft of the dubious joys of sparring with Helen Thomas or the DC press corps, he found he couldn't quite repress one last... "Bring it on".
Have at it, sheeples. I know you can do better than that!
Posted by Cassandra at November 20, 2008 08:29 AM
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Like every other morning in the eight long repressive, regressive, recessive, intrusive, insipid, inflexible, inarticulate, disturbing, degrading, deceptive, degenerative, demoralizing, unlawful, untenable, unfathomable, and totally un-cool years, George Bush (AKA "The Chimp, the peeResident, The Current Occupant, Satan, The Election Thief, The Village Idiot, and "That F*****g Criminally Insane Warmongering Torturer-in-Chief")began his last day as President of the United States by denuding forests, torturing Muslims, deporting starving immigrant families and their pets, rounding up gays and people of color for interment in concentration camps (or worse!), subverting the law and the Constitution, handing out money and favors to his oil business cronies,developing disastrous fiscal polices and new methods of torturing union leaders and community organizers, and spending twenty-five minutes on the treadmill.
Posted by: spd rdr at November 20, 2008 02:59 PM
You call that writing??? Bah! Needs more pejoratives.
Posted by: Helen Thomas on a Treadmill at November 20, 2008 03:59 PM
Seriously, don't you wonder what people are going to talk about when The Shrub is gone? :)
We're going to go into national bile withdrawal.
Posted by: Cassandra at November 20, 2008 04:03 PM
After Bush completed his agenda, for toppers, he went and kissed Helen Thomas on the cheek. Looking deep into her eyes, he said "Mission Accomplished."
I AM HISTORY!!!
Posted by: Cricket at November 20, 2008 04:47 PM
Bad, bad Cricket!
Posted by: Heh... at November 20, 2008 05:15 PM
I just had the most disturbing vision of the President tongue kissing Helen Thomas. My life is forever altered.
Posted by: spd rdr at November 20, 2008 05:35 PM
Where is Dr. Stuhl when we need him?
Posted by: Cassandra at November 20, 2008 05:42 PM
I was wondering that the other day.
Posted by: DL Sly at November 20, 2008 06:17 PM
"I'll admit that I've made some mistakes," outgoing President Bush told President-elect Obama in a top secret confabulation, at least according to communications received from unnamed persons close to the White House that actually replaced bottles of water in the same room only moments before the first (and, shockingly, only!) African-Hawaiian-Kansasian-Illinoisan-Columbian-Harvardian-Marxist-American ever to be elected to the country's highest office was scheduled to meet with the now-universally loathed and discredited president of the free world only moments before Obama was to take the oath of office on the Yellow Pages of the greater Washington D.C. area (to avoid the possibility of offending any muffler repair shops owned by non-Christians), "but mistakes are a tax those confident in our system of government will endure, provided that the government has generated sufficient good will and confidence that, at the end of the day, you've put more meat on the table than promises."
Posted by: spd rdr at November 20, 2008 07:48 PM
As a full winter moon rose over the Rose Garden on the last night of the BusHitler's eight year rampage through the Bill of Rights, Barney the White House Terrier gently patted the last of the displaced earth clods into place and, lifting a hind leg daintily, issued his own Special Comment on Keith Olbermann's unmarked grave.
Posted by: Cassandra at November 20, 2008 08:07 PM
I still want to hurt spd for that mental image of the President french kissing Helen Thomas.
I feel violated.
Posted by: Cassandra at November 20, 2008 08:09 PM
Have a pretzel.
Just don't swallow it and choke.
Posted by: Don Brouhaha at November 20, 2008 08:36 PM
"I still want to hurt spd for that mental image of the President french kissing Helen Thomas."
Paybacks are a bitch, aren't they?
Posted by: DL Sly at November 21, 2008 02:11 AM
...he found he couldn't quite repress one last... "Bring it on".
Suddenly, tragically, inexorably, incredibly, ineffably and excruciatingly -- she did.
Posted by: BillT at November 21, 2008 04:17 AM
What time is it in Washington, D.C., wondered the prisoner aloud in Arabic? Outside his cell, the commotion that had been building suddenly -- stopped. The volume of CNN was turned up. The prisoner heard someone making the sound "shh, shh!" Silence, except for the muffled sounds of sniffling.
The prisoner turned to inspect the man who had been guarding his door for the last 4 years. The guard stood perfectly still, resolutely, smelling of Brasso and shoe polish, as he had stood every morning before that.
About twenty seconds passed as the Oath of Office was administered... "So help me God..." Then, an outburst of applause, and the sound of a small toy horn tooting enthusiastically. One of the men shouted, "Yay!"
Khalid asked himself what this word "yay" could mean. Was it a code of some kind? Was he in trouble?
A male voice outside the door said "congratulations, President Obama!"
Then the door opened. A thin man of slight build, wearing a Polo shirt and flip-flops walked in, sneered at the guard, then turned away rolling his eyes while motioning vaguely toward the door, "get the hell out of here."
The man in the Polo shirt approached Khalid Shiek Mohamed tentatively, trying not to cry, trying not to frighten the prisoner. "We are so sorry for what they put you through."
Khalid said something in Arabic.
Several other slightly built men entered the room, eating Baked Doritos from a green bowl and drinking Diet Sunkist. "What did he say? Anyone know what he just said?" One of the Polo wearers nodded and said playfully, "Arabic is a little like Spanish, which fortunately I studied at Malcolm X High School in Vermont, class of 2001 thank you very much, and I believe he just said: 'welcome, my good friends, I have been waiting for this day.'"
Khalid felt the handcuffs come unlocked behind his back. CNN began its wall-to-wall coverage. That afternoon, Khalid Sheik Mohamed experienced the tangy citrus flavor of Diet Sunkist for the first time.
Posted by: Jeff at November 21, 2008 09:19 AM
You feel violated? That's nothing compared to how I feel about my intellectual property being
distorted and twisted to spd's devious ends.
Posted by: Sister of Perpetual Outrage at November 21, 2008 09:29 AM
It was a moderately well-lit, and yet somewhat gloomy mid-afternoon in the city of Washington, which is located in the District of Columbia, just across the state line from Maryland, and technically within the borders of the state of Virginia, but by Constitutional decree in Article I of the document first suggested by Thomas Jefferson, but actually written by James Madison before being approved by the Constitutional Convention of 1783, many signatories of which had recently struggled not just with a successful revolution against their former British masters, but also with the formation of a Confederation of States which lacked the powers to so much as provide for the funding of the essential powers of government, which dictated that no more than ten miles square (or 100 square miles in the vernacular of today's language) of land be set aside and seceded from the states would for use as a national capitol, the fog rolled and flopped in like some large rolling flopping thing, and within the White House, which was so named for the color it was painted by its original occupants, which is interesting to consider given that had they painted it yellow, it might today be known as the Yellow House, which would have an altogether different connotation, sat the outgoing President of the United States, George W. Bush, son of the other George Bush, who had been the 41st President of the United States to serve the people of that nation in its over 200 year history, and while he was sad to go with so many of his personal projects undone, and a legacy in question, he could at least feel good about the progress made in Iraq, a country which a scant six years prior had been in the hands of a dictatorial madman, the likes of which had not been seen since the days of Adolf Hitler and Josef Stalin in the 1940s, and in those mere six years had transformed into a representative democracy with a crime rate in it's once war-torn capitol lower than most major US cities, to include Chicago, hometown of the incoming President-Elect, the former Senator Barack Obama, whose politics President Bush may not agree with, but he did not envy the man the abuse that he would receive upon moving into the office, but he silently resolved, that come hell of high water, there would be no shenanigans and all the office keyboards would still have their letter O's.
Posted by: MikeD at November 21, 2008 10:09 AM
Everything was done that could have been done to ensure theorderly transition of executive power with a minimum of partisan fuss and backbiting, and except for that momentary lapse in good behavior by the First Spouse of an unnamed and unconfirmed Secretary of State involving an unnamed "hottie" from Pakistan, the transition had gone smoothly enough for the departing and incoming president to share a brief moment to exchange highly sensitive information about NAFTA, UFOs and the Kennedy assasination, not to mention the prized keys to the Executive Washroom, when at last the president-elect looked deeply into the eyes of the worlds most powerful man and asked, sheepishly, but yet with the confidence of a sheep that has a closet full wolf's clothing, "Mr. President, is there anything, anything else that I need to know before assuming this position?," and fixing his warm gaze upon upon the young man who would now lead America through what both men knew to be difficult times, the President reached over to pat the young man's hand, smiled, and said softly in a kindly, Texas drawl, "Just don't you let the screen door hit you in the ass on your way out."
Posted by: spd rdr at November 23, 2008 01:58 PM
Obama was stunned. His wife ogled someone, Barney had marked his turf again, and W was not telling him where the President's Book was, and said something about a screen door. Already the unicorns had quite frolicking and were starting to hunt down Henry Waxman. It was going to be a long four years. Then he spied them in the distance...crying and raising their hands in supplication: heal me, have mercy, have pity.
To his left was Helen Thomas, still reeling from the first, and only time in her life she had been kissed, the unwashed to his right, and in the middle, although how she got there would be a mystery until the day he died, Nancy Pelosi, with that look in her eyes...yes, it was going to be a very long four years.
Posted by: Cricket at November 24, 2008 03:03 AM
Just moments before noon on the morning of the inauguration, the largest inauguration in American history, with over three hundred and fifty seven million people on hand to observe the swearing-in of the nation’s new Chief Executive (at least according to estimates made by one observer whose face was strangely painted in a manner reminiscent of your average Redskins’ fan following, at a minimum, twelve hours of pregame drinking contests in the FEDEX Field parking lot, followed by which he performed a series of semi-comic falls down ten flights of escalators, only to at last lie contentedly in a puddle of his own and others’ vomit, blissfully unaware of any trace of shame, and completely unconscious as to the abject disgust heaped upon his pathetic form by passing New York Giants fans, holding a banner reading "Yes We Can Change Histury" high aloft from his perch atop a stop light at the intersection of Vermont Street NW and U Street NW, which is somewhere, like, really far north of where the President elect was getting set to place his right hand and swear that to uphold the Constitution, so help him God, and while fighting the bitter winds of a cold January morning in our nation's newest financial capital, Detroit, fell his perch off, got run over by an Afghani cab driver, and make a mess for the firemen) somebody keyed my car.
I hate it when that happens.
Posted by: spd rdr at November 24, 2008 06:02 PM
[shaking head sadly]
Sad, what a lifetime of watching Giants football will do to the human brain...
Posted by: Cassandra at November 24, 2008 06:22 PM