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[R. S. Refugee]

I hestitate to post this article because parts of it are about as truthful as a Carl Rove campaign ad, but with that caveat, enjoy....

(Uh, just remember, this is acknowledged satire while a Carl Rove actually expects people to believe the sh*t in his campaign themes, and sadly enough he comes close enough to achieving that so that stealing the rest of the votes needed to garner a "majority" is easy work for the dishonest and shameless.)

'Animal House diplomacy'
by Ed Naha

Boy, it's danged hard being President. Why, just this week alone Dubya had to come down hard on stem cell research (ignoring the plight of millions of ill Americans), disregard the chaos in Iraq, give a "thumb's down" on the global call for an immediate cease fire in the undeclared Israeli-Lebanese war and, in fact, blow-off the entire carnage, pinning the blame on Hezbollah, Syria, Iran and elves. (He even went so far as to mention "Hezbollian" rockets, as opposed to the Israelian ones or the plight of the Lebanonian army.)

And this came just days after making such a big impression at the G8 Summit, wherein, surrounded by seven distinguished leaders, he freaked out German Chancellor Angela Merkel by giving her an impromptu kamikaze neck rub, remained oblivious to Russia's Vladimir Putin's sarcastic asides, chewed on dinner rolls ala Jerry Lewis in his prime, avoided the press, twitched and gyrated behind the podium like he had six squirrels stuffed down his shorts and was caught, via an open mic, opining that Hezbollah has to "stop doing this shit..." Truly, it was an inspiring demonstration of what political scholars refer to as "Animal House Diplomacy."

Thanks to covert international sources and the voices in my head, I've been able to piece together the ENTIRE conversation that was picked up by the open mic. It's truly inspiring. (NOTE: a lot of this is verbatim from the open feed.) Enjoy.



Bush: (gnawing on a roll) Yo! Pooti-Poot. Wassup?

Putin: (under his breath) Not your IQ, alas.

Bush: Great grub. Ya gonna eat your roll?

Putin: Did you know I have the ability to kill a man using only my pinkies?

Bush: No shit. Are you a ninja?

Putin: I'm KGB.

Bush: You be cagey all right.

Putin: Russians are not ninjas. Ninjas are Japanese.

Bush: (turning to Japanese Prime Minister Junichiro Koizumi) Hey, Elvis! Tora! Tora! Tora! You a ninja?

Koizumi: (grimacing) If only.

Bush: Gonna eat that roll?

Koizumi: (staring at Bush's open mouth) No. Suddenly I'm not hungry.

(Bush sees Germany's Angela Merkel sit down. He runs up to her.)

Bush: Hey, Angelareenaroo, want a neck rub?

Merkel: No, thank you.

Bush: A foot massage?

Merkel: No, thank you.

Bush: (sticking a finger in his mouth) How about a 'Wet Willy?'

Merkel: (as Bush grabs her wrist) NO! Ow! What are you doing?

Bush: We call this an Indian rope burn. Aheh-heh.

Merkel: (wresting free of Bush) Dumkoff!

Bush: You gonna eat that roll?

Merkel: Take it and go away.

Bush: (taking his seat and addressing Italy's Romano Prodi while chewing) Howzit hangin', Prodiman? How does it feel to live in a boot? People put their stinky feet in boots.

Prodi: Didn't your mother ever tell you not to chew with your mouth full?

Bush: Nope. She gave up after telling me not to blow up frogs. Gonna eat your roll?

Prodi: No. Idiota.

Presidential Aide: (walking up to Bush) Will you be making prepared closing remarks, Mr. President?

Bush: (chewing) Gnarph gomma madupluff.

Presidential Aide: Didn't quite catch that, sir. (A wad of roll is spat onto his forehead. He doesn't react.)

Bush: No. Just gonna make it up. Extraneous-like. I'm not going to talk too damn long like the rest of them. Some of these guys talk too long. Katrina had less wind than these guys.

(The Aide walks off, wiping his forehead clean.)

Bush: (turning to G8 guest President Hu Jintao of China) Gotta go home. Got something to do tonight. Go to the airport, get on the airplane and go home. How about you? Where are you going? Home? You go-eee home-eee?

Jintao: Yes. Stop drooling on my rolls.

Bush: This is your neighborhood. It doesn't take you long to get home. How long does it take you to get home?

Jintao: Eight hours.

Bush: Eight hours? Me too. Russia's a big country and you're a big country.

Jintao: Do I look like a friggin' country to you? Keep your mitts off my rolls.

Bush: (trying to grab one of Jintao's rolls but getting his hand swatted back, turns to Putin) It takes him eight hours to fly home.

Putin: Fascinating. You are a master of small talk.

(A waiter places a drink before Bush.)

Bush: No, Diet Coke. Diet Coke.

Waiter: No Coke. Just Pepsi.

Bush: Alright, alright. Diet Pepsi. (muttering) Commie heathen.

Bush: (to Putin) It takes him eight hours to fly home. Eight hours. Russia's big and so is China.

Putin: You really know your geography.

Bush: Damn straight.

(British Prime Minister Tony Blair approaches.)

Bush: Yo! Blair, what are you doing? You leaving?

Blair: No, no, no, not yet.

(Blair, standing over Bush as the president eats, tries to engage him on the stalled global trade negotiations.)

Blair: On this trade thing . . .

Bush: They can go screw.

Blair: I don't think that's the appropriate reaction, Master George. Perhaps you can make a hopeful statement?

Bush: (softening at being called "Master") If you want me to. I just want some movement. Yesterday, I didn't see much movement. The desire's to move.

Blair: No, no there's not. It may be that it's impossible.

Bush: I'll be glad to say it. Who's introducing me?

Blair: Angela.

Bush: (licking his lips) Tell her to call on me. Tell her to put me on the spot.

(Bush then changes the subject, presumably to a gift Blair must have given him for his recent 60th birthday.)

Bush: Thanks for the sweater. Awfully thoughtful of you. I know you picked it out yourself, poodle-boy.

Blair: Oh, absolutely.

(Both of them laugh. Then Bush turns serious, asking Blair about comments apparently made about the Middle East crisis by U.N. Secretary General Kofi Annan, another guest at the summit.)

Bush: What about Kofi? That seems odd. I don't like the sequence of it. His attitude is basically cease-fire and (then) everything else happens. You know what I'm saying?

Blair: Yeah. No, I think -- the thing that's really difficult is we can't stop this unless you get this international presence agreed. Now, I know what you guys have talked about but it's the same thing.

Bush: (putting his hands up to his ears while chewing on a roll) Mmmmph, baflooie, nyah, nyah. I can't hear you.

Blair: I assume you'll be sending Condi to the scene immediately?

Bush: Did you know she was a classical pianoer? My sources say she doesn't have to go right away. I have the intel.

Blair: I don't see how reliable that is. But you need that done quickly.

Bush : Yeah, she's going. I think Condi's going to go pretty soon. A week. A year. I'm thinking about it. Did you eat your rolls?

Blair: Right. Well, that's, that's, that's all that matters. If you -- see, it'll take some time to get out there. But at least it gives people a --

Bush: A process, I agree. I told her your offer, too.

Blair: Well, it's only if it's -- I mean, you know, if she's gotta -- or if she needs the ground prepared, as it were. Obviously, if she goes out, she's got to succeed, as it were, whereas I can just go out and talk.

Bush: See, the irony is what they (Kofi and the UN) need to do is get Syria to get Hezbollah to stop doing this shit, and it's over.

Blair: Who, Syria?

Bush: Right.

Blair: I think this is all part of the same thing. What does he think?

Bush: He (Kofi) thinks if Lebanon turns out fine, if we get a solution in Israel and Palestine, Iraq goes in the right way, he's hunky-dory with it all. I mean, I told him that Democracy is on the march, freedom's spreading like a cancer and all the countries in the Middle East will soon be swapping spit like a coupla homos.

(Blair's jaw drops open and a wad of half-eaten roll lands on his nose.)

Bush: That's what this whole thing's about. It's the same with Iran.

Blair: How did Kofi react?

Bush: He replied in a foreign tongue. But I think I convinced him. He was so excited he was shouting. Then, he ran off. Probably to get the UN on the horn.

Blair: No doubt.

Bush: I felt like telling Kofi to get on the phone with Assad and make something happen. We're not blaming Israel. We're not blaming the Lebanese government.

(At this point, Blair notices the microphone.)

Blair: Master George! I believe your mic is on.

Bush: (laughing and leaning into the microphone) Aheh-heh. Yeah, right. Where do you think we are? America? (in dumb voice) Calling all cars! Calling all cars! The President of the Yoo-nited States has run out of rolls. Get rolls to table. 10-4! Stat!

(Blair sighs as a waiter brings Bush a bowl of soup. Bush digs in. He grimaces.)

Bush: Hey! My soup's cold!

Putin: It's borscht.

Bush: I'll say it's horseshit. No Coke and cold soup to boot.

(Standing up, ala Bluto Blutarsky in "Animal House," he yells.)

Bush: Fooooood fight!

(At that point, all video and audio recordings cease and the dawn of a new era of dignified American diplomacy begins. D'oh!)

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