President Bush makes a few remarks after visiting wounded soldiers at Brooke Army Medical Center, Sunday, Jan. 1, 2006, in San Antonio, Texas. President Bush is sporting a cut on the left side of his forehead from cutting down brush on his ranch. (AP Photo/Lawrence Jackson)
I laugh about it.
I like to kid about how, when I was in college, it wasn't unusual for me and my friends to cut and clear so much "brush" that, by the next day, we couldn't even remember where we cut that brush.
Sometimes, we'd wind up, in the early hours of the morning, holding onto a toilet, just vomitting up all the "brush" we had "cut". That's called "clearing" "brush", I guess. Once, I "cut" so much "brush", I got stomped by a pair of giant Samoan bouncers outside the Allen Room on College Avenue.
Apparently, they preferred that I just "trim" the "brush" and not "cut" so much. Fucking tree-huggers.
And me and my friends would get up the next day, after "cutting" and "clearing" so much "brush", and we'd literally stink of "brush". No amount of toothpaste or mouthwash could get the taste of "brush" out of our mouths.
But that didn't stop us from going out again that night for a "bike ride"!
And, it goes without saying, we "rode" our "bikes" hard, sometimes even passing out from a long "bike" "ride".
I joke about it.
I like to point out that there are only two kinds of grownups in modern American life who show up in public with as many contusions, lacerations, and bruises on their faces on such a regular basis as George W. Bush:
1. Prizefighters; and
2. Falling down drunks.
Though, to be fair, maybe rodeo clowns and women married to Bob Dornan do as well.
But I'm completely serious about it. And anybody who just didn't wake up on Earth yesterday should be, too.
The dude is a serious boozer. He hasn't given up shit.
Grown up people don't show up for work, Monday morning, all bloodied and bruised--what is this guy? In Fight Club? Grown-up people don't say "peeance, freeance" in public and not even notice that they just said it. Grown up people don't disappear and retreat into seclusion at times of stress. Only to reappear with, again, bruises, contusions, and lacerations on their faces.
You know who does?
Hardcore, falling down, howling alcoholics.
CRAWFORD, Tex., Dec. 31 - For six days, President Bush has stayed in nearly complete isolation on his ranch here - just mountain-biking and brush-clearing...
Six days of "brush-clearing" and "biking"? It's like Fort Lauderdale in February!
And after all that? Of course, he shows up all fucked up again.
Screw the National Enquirer. If you don't want to believe them, don't. I never do. And I don't think anyone else should, either. Instead, how about this: believe your common sense and lifetime of experience on this planet.
Ask yourself: how many times do I, as a grownup, show up for work after a vacation with a bunch of cuts and bruises on my head? Ask yourself: how many of my friends regularly show up, after a vacation, with lacerations and contusions on their face?
Ask yourself: how many grownups do I even see, in public, bloodied and bruised?
Ask yourself: how many people--not just among those you know or have heard of--in the history of the world have physically hurt themselves on a fucking pretzel? And that's not Michael Moore saying that. That's Bush, himself! He choked on a pretzel and wound up with a large bruise and a scrape on his left cheekbone, and a bruise on his lower lip.
A Sunday morning, your teenage kid shows up at the breakfast table looking like that, and you believe that sorry ass story?
Your Preznit shows up a couple of times a year all fucked up. And always after a little trip out of the spot light of the White House. He's a drunk.
The dude ain't only a drunk--he's a lousy, wildly out of control drunk.
Shit, I don't even think this horrid aspect of the totally fraudulent Bush administration is funny anymore. I mean, there are drunks and there are drunks.
I've done some hard drinking in my life. I've done some hard drinking with hard drinkers. I went to an Irish Catholic highschool. I tailgated at Penn State. I bartended for years.
I remember one bar I worked at, I used to unlock the doors early in the morning, every morning, to let in an Ivy League professor, before classes started, to pour him a shot of whiskey and a beer. And his hands shook so badly, at nine o'clock in the morning, that he couldn't pick up the glasses. He used to lower his face down to the bartop and suck up a little beer before he could down his shot.
But this guy? When he gets alone, he gets dangerously drunk. He hurts himself. Often. This guy hurts himself more than Bukowski when he's loaded. Christ, he needs a freaking Gary Busey Helmet-Protector Protector.
And this is a guy who calls himself a "War President". This is a guy who thinks God is talking to him. This is a guy who thinks he decides what the law is. This is a guy who thinks he has a mandate to fundamentally and unilaterally change our government, our society, and the world.
And he's such a yutz, putz and lousy, out of control boozer that he can't even take a long weekend without hurting himself.
Again, I used to laugh at what an obvious hard core alcoholic this dope is. I wasn't laughing at what he's been doing to the United States of America or the world. But I could still chuckle at what he does to himself.
I can't even laugh about that anymore. Just looking at this pathetic bozo, they're now undoubtably one and the same.
Check out:
"Bush's 12-Step Program"
Posted by: AvengingAngel | January 06, 2006 at 11:29 PM
Julia's posse to the rescue! Say, can we send your husband to the White House, to remove the non-native invasives there?
That'll be my new battle cry: Xeriscape the White House!
Posted by: Elkit | January 07, 2006 at 12:50 AM
Thanks Ricky, those are all good responses! That's pretty much what I tried to say to my husband but I'm not as eloquent as you. :)
Posted by: Elayne Riggs | January 07, 2006 at 07:28 AM
Jeez, julia, that hadn't even occurred to me! I grew up about 90 miles southeast of Crawford, and I can't even count the times I got so sunburned I blistered. The sun is so fierce it'll burn you through a t-shirt, much less some feeble sunscreen. And even as a smallish girl helping string fence or clear brush (which doesn't offer any shade at all), I never scraped up my face.
Now I'm wishing I could've heard the conversation when they decided what the cover story would be. Stringing fence? Cutting calves? Building a shed? Working on the patio?
Posted by: vetiver | January 07, 2006 at 03:09 PM
my favorite was from a few years ago. bush shows up with a scrape on his face. it was explained away as bush falling off his bike on a wet trail after a storm. someone did some research on the weather. it hadn't rained in about 8 days.
Posted by: paul | January 07, 2006 at 05:29 PM
That would be this post:
President Bush took a spill during a Saturday afternoon bike ride on his ranch, suffering bruises and cuts that were visible later on his face just two days before he was to deliver a major prime-time speech on his Iraq policy.
The president was nearing the end of a 17-mile ride on his mountain bike, accompanied by a Secret Service agent, a military aide and his personal physician, Richard Tubb, who treated him at the scene, said White House spokesman Trent Duffy.
"It's been raining a lot and the topsoil is loose," Duffy said. "You know this president. He likes to go all-out. Suffice it to say he wasn't whistling show tunes."
Which reveals no rain for 8 days when the Preznit fell on his face because "[i]t's been raining a lot".
It's funny because it's not only total bullshit, but because of Duffy's bizarre "as you all know, this Preznit ain't no sissy fag" comment.
Duffy offered that up, even though no reporter had suggested that the Preznit was a big ol' sissy boy, out peddling around on a pink tricycle with "It's Raining Men" blaring on his IPod.
I don't want to do any more amateur psychology, but I will anyway. Actually, I'm lying. I do want to. Here it is:
When someone denies something they haven't even been accused of, they're probably guilty of it.
Though, I doubt it was show tunes. Maybe "Hey, There, Georgie Girl"...
Posted by: ricky | January 07, 2006 at 05:49 PM
Look, Bush gets slapped around by his handlers every weekend for the mistakes he made last week. There's no "brush", there are no "accidents". Just a couple of guys from the GHW Bush Secret Police or the Cheney Super Squad going, "Dammit George!" *slap* "I told you not to go off script again!" *smack* "Do it right next time or it'll be more brush clearing next week!" *thwack*
Posted by: joe earl | January 08, 2006 at 12:56 PM
Another tragic run-in with a bottle brush. Those can hurt.
Posted by: Kip W | January 08, 2006 at 07:38 PM
ooh, another one! Remember the "cyst" on his cheek that required a HUGE bandage?
Posted by: someone | January 10, 2006 at 04:37 PM
I think it's "Brooks (mit 's', no 'e')" Army Medical Center.
Anyway, 's' or 'e', it's hard to get all them lettres straight when under the influence of a contact high, eh? What? (Hic)
Georgie might be one of those distinguished drunks, someone whose personal appeal becomes greater when he's had a few. There are those -- Foster Brooks among them -- who actually grow in stature when they've imbibed (or acted like it). I can recall a fellow in my younger years who, after three or so vodka over ices, would become increasing philosophical and actually quite intelligent to listen to. His claim to fame was his booze gut that he was proud of as one of his finest investments. He was a good family man and a nice, all around fellow. There were times when he had a bone to pick and would become increasingly philosophical and command the respect of all of those around him. He also found his way into some brush once after a bout at the bars and while walking downhill from the garage, he just kinda picked up momentum and wound up in a bunch of blackberry bushes after he veered off of the road, walking. That was good for a few laughs!
As pointed out about the Ivy League professor, alcohol can be a calmative and restorative for some. It can increase perspective, once the proper body chemistry is brought back into balance. A lot depends on habit, how one has compensated for lackings and failings in the past. This is not an endorsement of either the fellow or his condition. I'm merely pointing out that the psychology is a little more involved than random snippitiness, not being able to know any more than the news tells us. As far as I've read, Georgie was always a jovial drunk and perhaps a better man for himself for it, looking from the outside in. For everyone else, his caretakers and enablers? Probably not. But a good drunk always has good people to look after him or her.
Posted by: Alamaine | January 11, 2006 at 05:08 AM
As a former outrageous drunk myself, I know what drunks look like and act like. The Prez is not a reformed drunk. He is still drinking. But maybe he has to just to face the world. Everything is so complicated out there, and he has been in over his head since about 7th grade. He couldn't run a hot-dog stand by himself.
Posted by: nomativa | January 11, 2006 at 09:27 AM
Hell, I used to work on ranches in northern Australia, and you know? I used to finish the working day covered in bites, stings, sawtooth nicks, bruises, sprains, kicks from cattle/horses, thorns, spinifex cuts, sore arse from riding in a pool of sweat, sunburned down to a top-five percentile skin cancer risk, blisters on my feet, blisters on my hands...
but never, fuckit, did I find any way of damaging my face other than riding a motorcycle full pelt through a wire fence. (I do remember a mate who got half his face laid wide open by a fence wire that snapped under tension, and needed a dozen stitches, but that was a statistical outlier.)
Mind you, I did once manage to get in a fight in which someone raked a key across my forehead, leaving a distinctive comb-like pattern of scratches. Guess what? I was incredibly, stupidly, brutally drunk.
Posted by: Alex | January 11, 2006 at 11:11 AM
I've been doing landscaping and construction for decades and have the scars to prove it. I occasionaly bang my head above my hair line (('m tall) but, come to think of it, I've only had but one or two scrapes on my face in over 40 years..
Posted by: alan aronson | January 11, 2006 at 12:13 PM
I love you all very much.
But the laughter begins to choke you after a while.
We have a nasty, twisted, murderous, lying gay alcoholic crook as a president.
Yok it up?
Posted by: Pants Elk | January 17, 2006 at 10:46 AM
I'll also say this: real people do cut and clear "brush" in states all over the country. Not just Texas. In Pennsylvania, in Iowa, in Oklahoma.
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