The Age of Bush, Part IV: Risky Bidness

[JeffR]

Part IV of a continuing series chronicling the life and times of President George Walker Bush.

Click here for Part I.
Click here for Part II.
Click here for Part III.



Part IV: Risky Bidness

In 1973, the Joint Chiefs of Staff made a fateful decision. After heated debate, they agreed that Lieutenant George W. Bush would better serve America by attending Harvard Business School rather than fulfill the remaining eight months of his Texas Air National Guard commitment.

Lieutenant Bush was called to the Pentagon for a briefing, where he begged them to at least allow him to continue in the inactive reserve. They grudgingly agreed, but warned him to keep an eye out for Charlie on campus. "No problemo, sirs," a relieved Bush responded. So it was that America lost the Vietnam War.

Bush – or "Lootie", as he insisted his new classmates refer to him – found himself on the HBS campus in Allston, Massachusetts. Here, at long last, he discovered a college experience unmarred by pungent hippies and flag-burners. As far as the eye could see, HBS was filled with polite, patriotic white people whose only goal was to make money and prove to the Woodstock Nation that the American Dream wasn't dead, it just required more initials behind one's name. Bush, finally, was in his academic element.

So readily did he take to the demanding curriculum of the school that he had no need for studying or attending classes. Instead, he spent most days hanging around Spangler Hall, jovially grabbing at coeds' buttocks and sipping from a beer mug full of Stoli.

He graduated in 1975, and celebrated by going on a year-long bender, culminating in a drunk-driving offense in Kennebunkport. Looking back on this period, an older and even wiser Bush has a chuckle at his own expense. "In retrograde, I guess I can't blame myself too much. Kennebunkport was boring as crap. Plus I was only thirty, and young kids that age don't prioriterize too good. And hey, at least the fuzz never spotted the blow I had in the glove compartment. Heh."

He returned to Midland, drank a bunch more, and wrestled hard with what direction he would take. A chance invitation to a backyard barbecue would give him the answer.

It was a gorgeous Midland afternoon, and after nine or ten cocktails, he was persuaded to regale the party with stories of his harrowing TANG exploits. His narrative stopped mid-sentence when he noticed a striking young woman in the rapt crowd. She resembled a younger, prettier Cesar Romero, and the curtains she wore shimmered in the sun. He approached, spellbound.

Grabbing her right breast, he made an amusing honking sound. "What's your name, babe?" he asked, after she had stopped giggling.

"Laura Welch," she cooed.

He snorted in derision. "Guess again, headlights, your name is Laura W. Bush now."

Three months later, it became official as the two lovebirds were married in a storybook ceremony at the Petroleum Museum out on Interstate 20.

The groom's parents were among the first to arrive, eager to meet their new daughter-in-law. "I'm George, Sr.," said George, Sr., "But you can call me 'Pork Rind', little lady."

"And I'm Barbara, known to my friends as 'Baboon'," added Bush's mother. "But you can call me Mrs. Bush. Oh, and I love those drapes you're wearing."

"Thank you, Mrs. Bush. I bought these with my meager librarian's salary," Laura replied shyly.

The older woman squinted at Laura. "Librarian? Now, dear, that will never do. You're a Bush now, and you can't tarnish the family name with books and that sort of shit. Now tell me, you are a virgin, aren't you?"

"Technically, no, Mrs. Bush. But I did run a stop sign and kill the boy who deflowered me," Laura said.

"That's fine, then, dear. Now I'm going to go and get faced."

After the ceremony, as guests danced to the tuneful stylings of Leroy Schlitz and His Insomniacs, the young couple walked out to the portico. After Bush had finished throwing up several times, he looked deep into his new bride's glazed eyes and said, "Laura, my little gherkin, I picked the Petroleum Museum for our wedding because I've decidered I'm going to be an oilman. Hell, I'm as oily as anybody, right?"

"Oilier, Georgums," sighed his adoring bride. "Oilier than anybody."

While the chances of striking oil in Texas had always been slim to none, George W. Bush was determined to make history. His first venture was called Arbusto. He reminisces, "Ah, Arbusto. I picked that name because somebody told me that was the Mexican word for 'big dong'. Found out later that was bullshit, of course."

Arbusto faltered quickly, hampered by Bush's stubborn unwillingness to drill beyond his backyard. His business partner, James Bath, finally managed to persuade Bush to expand drilling, bankrolled by a $50,000 investment from Salem bin Laden, whose half-brother Osama quickly became a fixture around the company's offices.

"He could do everything," recalls Bush. "If a copier broke down, he could fix it. He'd cook up some mean chili for company picnics sometimes. But I finally had to fire him for violating the Arbusto dress code. He took it well, but he did say something about seeing him again someday. Sorta creeped me out…"

With bin Laden gone, the company's fortunes took a nosedive. Copiers broke down. Chili at company picnics was inedible. Worse still, Arbusto hadn't found a drop of oil.

A panicked Bush decided to try his hand at politics, vying for a Congressional seat in the 19th District. Though popular in Midland, Bush fared less well with voters in Lubbock, who viewed him as an elitist quasi-Northerner, a sort of human/animal hybrid, as it were. Bush nimbly changed his campaign style, incorporating more fart jokes in his stump speeches and making pandering references to his lack of opposable thumbs.

It wasn't quite enough. In the end, his opponent Kent Hance won by 6,000 votes. The duplicitous Hance would later leave the Democrat Party and become a Republican, but Bush remains convinced to this day that Hance was a Communist infiltrator. "I still have old Hancypants under surveillance, and at a time of my choosing, I'm going to smoke him out," avers Bush.

He had no choice but to return to corporate life, but as Arbusto bled more and more red ink, he discovered the real joy of family values. In 1980, novelty presidential candidate Ronald Reagan came through on a promise he'd made to young Bush years before, and named Bush's daddy to his ticket. Through a deft combination of clever campaigning and the desperate subversion of President Carter's efforts to free the hostages in Iran, they won fair and square.

But family also had its downside. Laura gave Bush to twin girls, Frick and Frack, in 1981. Appalled, Bush began to drink heavily again, while the twins watched and learned.

Amid all the malfeasance the newly-minted Vice-President Bush had to oversee in Washington, he made time to look after his son. Hooking him up with that uniquely American breed of businessmen dedicating to propping up failing ventures, he ensured that Bush's career would triumphantly go from weakness to weakness.

Family friend Philip Uzielli sank a million dollars into Arbusto (now renamed Bush Exploration on the premise that pornography might make a successful spin-off business someday). Though this wasn't enough to turn the company around, two more failure speculators, Mercer Reynolds and William DeWitt, decided in 1984 to buy out Arbusto and offer Bush the CEO position of their firm, Spectrum 7.

Bush adroitly steered the company to a $1.5 million net loss the following year. Knowing a bad thing when they saw it, a company named Harken Energy then bought Spectrum 7 at a wildly inflated price.

"At last, I understood what the American dream was all about. Finally, all my mistakes were paying off," recalls Bush.

Part V: Walker, Texas Rangers

[NanceGreggs]

1. If only the MSM ...

... offered this kind of unvarnished truth!

:kick: :kick: :kick:

[JeffR]

2. They lack my unprecedented access and "unimpeachable" sources.

Poor bastards.

[NanceGreggs]

3. Just because you know how to "Google" ...

... and they haven't figured it out yet, that's no reason to get snippy about it.

[JeffR]

4. Yes, I shouldn't be arrogant.

Ooops! Have to run. Just got another email from that dragbutt Woodward, begging for a few crumbs. Time to get all Watergate on his sorry ass.

[unhappycamper]

5. Interesting series, Jeff.

Off to the front page. k&r

[paparush]

6. ". . prettier Cesar Romero" -> LMFAO!

[Coexist]

7. knr!

[Kurovski]

8. *HONK HONK*

Gosh...but you been busy, Mister. :rofl:

I had no idea you were a historian on top of all the rest. I will have to catch up on the rest when I get an internet connection. If you need a jacket blurb...

" The greatest and most penetrating look at American history since Howard Zinn's 'A Peoples History of the United States.'" --Vice-President Kurovski

[Kurovski]

9. Kick. (nt)