An open letter to the First Fool

Dear George,
`

Well, here we are: Six miserable years, eight miserable months, two miserable weeks and one miserable day into what can only be described as the most murderously corrupt and incompetent administration in the annals of human stupidity - with one more miserable year, three more miserable months, two more miserable weeks and one more miserable day to go. Or, if you will: four-hundred and seventy-three miserable days until you're history. Miserable. Miserable. Miserable - a mind-numbingly depressing scenario any way you slice it or dice it!

Can you believe it's finally come to this, George? By now you must surely realize that with respect to the office of president of the United States, you were in way over your head, were you not? The question that most intelligent people are asking, though, is this: You were such a perpetual fuck-up from the day you were born, after failing at every single thing you ever attempted throughout your entire life, what defect in your psychological make up made you think you could possibly succeed at the most intellectually taxing, complex job in the entire Milky Way? Enquiring minds want to know, George!

But it is not merely the fact that you screwed up royally at everything you ever tried. There is also the undeniable fact that you were one mean little bastard - even as a small boy. Your former childhood playmates like to tell the the story about how, as a kid, you loved to catch frogs at a creek near your home in Crawford, Texas, stuff two or three firecrackers down their throats and blow the little darlings to smithereens in mid-air. Excessive and gratuitous cruelty to animals. You know what that's a sign of, don'cha, George? That's an alarm bell sign of severe mental illness. It is also a trait which is the common childhood denominator of most mass murderers! (Ted Bundy, John Wayne Gacey, Jeffrey Dahmer, etc.) Gee! It all fits neatly into place, doesn't it, George? Given your positively perverted penchant for torture and the carnage you've created in Iraq (1.2 million dead and counting), the sad tale of those poor little Crawford froggies makes perfect sense!

I need to know: What made you want to run for public office in the first place, George? Surely it was not out of a desire to do right by the people, that's for damned sure! And it certainly wasn't out of any religious calling to do the work of the good Christian you profess yourself to be. Then what was it, George? When the dust is finally settled and historians are able to siphon through the wreckage of your nightmare of an administration, not one positive achievement will be said to have come from the long years of your disgusting reign of error - NOT ONE!

What motivated you, George? I think I can answer that question. Your motivation was never to preside over a "government of the people, by the people, for the people". It was, instead, to "alter or abolish" that form of government. And the funny thing is, you were almost successful, George! Maybe you're even stupid enough to believe that you have succeeded. Well, here's the big surprise, pardner: Are ya ready for this? Can you hear that bell faintly ringing in the distance? It tolls for thee, George. It tolls for thee.

The jig is up, George, and you can deny it no longer. The chickens will soon be coming home to roost for you, Dick Cheney, and the tsunami of walking, talking shit that comprises most of your administration. Oh, it's not going be a pretty picture, Georgie; not by any stretch of the imagination. You've called tune, Buster, and We, The Pipers must be paid. At the risk of sounding sadistic, I've got to say that it is, indeed, going to be a beautiful thing to watch you being severely punished for your crimes against the human race. Living as a citizen of the United States for the last six years, eight months, two weeks and one day has been like being a passenger in a speeding car with an insane, half-witted, out-of-control drunk at the wheel. The damage that you've done to this once-great nation is impossible to accurately assess. Your tax cuts for a class of people who already had more money than they knew what to do with - at the expense of the poor and the middle class - can only be described as the most despicable deed of any American president in history. Your criminal recklessness and disdain for the tenets of governance put forward by the Founding Fathers over two-hundred years ago will still be palpable one-hundred years from today. Because of your actions, the "American way of life" - that most of us have taken for granted all of our lives - is gone forever.

Compassionate conservatism, huh? What a fucking joke.

Well, George, as your knucklehead of a Father would say, you're in deep doo-doo, son! Honestly, you've got to grow up and face some uncomfortable truths: you've failed yet again. Not only that, but you've also committed serious felonies too numerous to adequately catalogue. From the genocide in Iraq to the warrantless spying on American citizens; from the looting of our national treasure to the perversion of the Constitution....To quote the Sheriff of Boone County Kentucky, "You're in a heap a' trouble, boy!"

Oh, why, George, why??? Why couldn't you just have left well enough alone? You were a rich kid from a prominent (if somewhat disreputable) family who was destined to inherit a fortune from your two hideous parents! Why couldn't you have been content to live out your life as a dim-witted country squire and leave the rest of us be? Why did you do it, George? Can't you see the heartache you've caused for untold scores of millions of people across the globe? Can't you see the misery you've unleashed across this small and fragile planet? Are you unable to perceive the magnitude of the suffering that has been the result of your arrogance and foolishness? Do you not comprehend the death and destruction you've wrought? Are you unaware of the grief you've brought into the lives of so many innocent people? What the fuck is the matter with you, George?

Your day is coming, George. Man! I'd sure as hell hate to be you, buddy! What I'd love to know is, how will you face your just deserts? Knowing you, you'll try to flee the country. That one-hundred thousand acres your family purchased two years ago off the coast of Paraguay had a certain stink to it when I first read about it - just the place for a fugitive war criminal to hide out. How are you going to react when you're finally cornered? Will you take the cowardly, Hitler way out? A well-placed, self-inflicted bullet through the brain? Nah! You're too much of a coward for even that method! I imagine they'll just end up dragging you out of your bunker, screaming and crying like a pathetic, frightened little four year old. By that time you will be such a sorry, gnarled figure of a human being, even I will feel some measure of sympathy for you.

Miserable. Miserable. Miserable.

You had a great opportunity for a while there, George, and you blew it - BIG TIME! You might have taken all of the sympathy and good will that was beamed on the American people from all over the world after the tragedy of September 11, 2001 and ushered in a new, golden era of peace, understanding and cooperation. You might have been able to force even the most unbending, intolerant leaders to look at the senseless carnage of that dark day and made them see the tragic meaninglessness of it all. You could have done great things, George. You had the unprecedented, overwhelming support of the American people. Hell, you even had my support, George! I said as much on a live radio program two days after the attack! So many people like me who were initially bitter towards you because of the stolen election of the year before wanted to believe that the trauma of that day would transform you; that you would put behind you the extremist doctrine of the criminals and sociopaths who have hijacked your party and do the right thing by the country you claim to love so much. But then you thoughtlessly - criminally - rendered all of our hopes and prayers futile. All of that good will was foolishly squandered, scattered like ashes to the wind.

Go away, George. Please, just go away.

Your biggest fan (Ha! Ha! I'm just kidding),

Tom Degan

Goshen, NY

tomdegan@frontiernet.net