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In one of my fonder dreams lately, the Hou$e of Repre$entative$ somehow breaks out of its coma and brings Articles of Impeachment against the Boy King. Astonishingly, the $enate convicts his sorry ass and removes it from office.
At high noon on my birthday, bu$hler is whisked away to Paraguay on an armored jet thoughtfully provided by Lockheed Martin as Dick (The Dick) Cheney lays his left tentacle on the Bobble and gets sworn in as the 44th Preznit of the United States.
DU immediately goes to Defcon 6. Its servers groan under the load of 16,357 threads all roughly along the lines of "Oh, shit! We are SCREWN!" Hundreds of people jump out of Will Pitt's office window, conviced that the Apocalypse is at hand. Some of them make several trips. Hearts fail. Underwear is soiled beyond redemption.
But wait. Can you imagine anything that The Dick could possibly hate worse than trying to go about his evil business right out in the open? Just when he'd really, really need to be behind closed doors negotiating clean air legislation with the coal industry or writing PATRIOT III with Rupert Murdoch, he'd have to drop everything and rush off to a Republic Party fundraiser, kissing babies and trying not to show panic when the acid from his lips began to eat holes in their tender little cheeks.
During his numerous appearances before the Hou$e Committee On Undead Activities, it would take all his powers of concentration just to maintain his human form. This would be mistaken for civility and thousands of blogs across the country would melt down under the discussion.
Within three days, the pressure of being in the spotlight (see Clinton, George, Flashlight) nineteen hours a day would have him doing Jack Daniels right out of the bottle with a Flavor Straw.
In an effort to dodge the press and relieve the stress, Ole Deadeye would take off on a hunting trip to Montana. Convinced he had bagged Sasquatch, he would discover instead the buckshot-riddled corpse of Candy Crowley, chocolate melting slowly in her mouth (not in her hand).
Things would begin to go downhill from this point. As his doctors attempted to regulate his pacemaker, garage doors would slam shut all across Colorado...
Never mind the War Crimes that bu$h has committed. Let's impeach the bastard just so we can watch Cheney go barking mad in the midday sun!
:evilgrin:
dbt
Remember New Orleans
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