Thursday, January 22, 2009

GEORGE

George Walker Bush had a good thing going. His good thing was going out a door held open by Obama. Even though George was thanked at the top of the inaugural speech and then got totally owned for the subsequent eighteen minutes, he has shown no animosity toward his successor; indeed, he must sincerely appreciate being bailed out. As the Bushes and Obamas stood for their poignant photo-op just before boarding the heli, the former president and former president-elect shared some words. Michelle O. was gracious enough to write on my wall, telling me what they said:

GEORGE: Well, Barry, it's all yours now.
BARACK: Was I too harsh?
GEORGE: It's all good, yo.
BARACK: Keep in touch. Text me, k?
GEORGE: Aight.
(waves to cameras)
GEORGE: Hey Barry...
BARACK: 'Sup?
GEORGE: Thank you.
BARACK: Don't be silly.
GEORGE: No, for reals. Thank you.
BARACK: Peace in the Middle East?
GEORGE: Peace out.

And then he choppered the hell outta Dodge Chrysler. George reclined in his La-Z-Boy aboard Marine One and exhaled, "God bless America. Allah be praised for Obama." He shut his eyes for a daydream, reflected on how much the world hates him, his faint smile exposing his new-found relief: He did not renege, he was not impeached, he did not abdicate. He admitted mistakes, but Obama helped him save face.

Surely, over the years, as his war cry got drowned out by cries of protest and shrapnelled Iraqi babies, George must have re-considered. Even if fleetingly. A flash of doubt. He seems genuinely confident that answering terror with terror was the right choice, but even though he might be the most deluded and naive of men, he is not oblivious to the reasons why he is hated. During eight years of being counselled on actions affecting billions, George must have pondered, at least once, "Am I right?"

Perhaps his flash of doubt had exploded into a fully illuminated epiphany, when one cold crisp night on Pennsylvania Avenue, Jesus told him, "No, George, you are wrong."

GEORGE: Fuck.
JESUS: I know.
GEORGE: I've been wrong all along.
JESUS: Word.
GEORGE: FUCK!
JESUS: Ssssshhh...
GEORGE: Now what do I do?
JESUS: Lay low.
GEORGE: How? I'm the fuckin' President of the United States of America, for Your sake!
JESUS: Ssssshhh...
GEORGE: ...I'm wrong...
JESUS: But don't tell anyone you're wrong. Keep mum.
GEORGE: And just keep saying that I'm right?
JESUS: Right.
GEORGE: For how long?
JESUS: Be patient. You will soon be succeeded by a black man.
GEORGE: For reals?
JESUS: Dude, I don't front.
GEORGE: You've shown me the light...
JESUS: That's my thing.
GEORGE: ...and you want me to keep lying?
JESUS: Be strong. You're a Republican.
GEORGE: Aight. I won't recant I won't recant I won't recant...
JESUS: Good boy. Good wrong boy.
(George sighs)
JESUS: He's also white.

And so George kept mum for the good of his nation. He knew that if he admitted to being wrong, he would let the troops down. Osama would release another video, a three-second clip: "Man, you got hardcore served." Ahmadinejad would turn gay with joy (like, happy). Mostly, he kept mum for himself, to cobble together whatever scraps remained of his defunct legacy. He knew in his soul, with the help of J.C., that he should have shut down Gitmo, let the waterboards dry, brought the troops back home to their families, but he had to remain resolved behind the lectern. George had a mulatto ace up his sleeve. All he had to do was keep his doubts silent. Let Obama execute what George learned he should have done but was not able.

GEORGE: (by BlackBerry) barry, thank u. thnk u 4 being the greatest thing 2 ever happen 2 me. now im free

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