Wednesday, May 17, 2006


I wanted to share with my readers an editorial I wrote that appeared in the CPT, or Colored People’s Times. It is an open letter to our Commander in Chief…our spiritual leader…a man of conviction with suspiciously few convictions…the 43rd President of these United States…George Walker Bush. Or, as the Washington Press Corps call him in a ridiculous attempt to pretend that he’s their friend, “Dubya!” I have another nickname for him.

Dear Shithead,

I heard recently about your shit-for-brains plan to have the NSA keep records of every call made by every American. Respectfully, I can’t begin to tell you how fucking stupid that shit is. You need a more focused approach, King George. Your “plan” would be the equivalent of checking out every book in the library to get a paper done.

You haven’t the slightest fucking clue what that means, do you? You know, I always think of you when people complain about affirmative action.

Anyway, it seems to me that lack of information is not the shit that is fucking up the works. It seems to me that you don’t know what do with the information you’ve already got. (Remember the memo? The FBI warnings that people were taking flight lessons and didn’t seem interested in taking off or landing?) I’ve been taught that intelligence is the ability to process information. I don’t want to call you stupid, but…well…Do with that shit what you will.

So, I think your plan is un-American, illegal and generally fucking dumb. But as a good American I wanted to help out, so I’ll be sending the NSA daily activity logs. That way you can save the manpower it would have taken to keep me under surveillance. That frees up bodies to guard the Mexican border…which would have been protected better had you actually been true to your word and funded the Border Patrol…But hey, who am I to judge?

Here is yesterday’s log:

6:00 AM Wake up

6:01 AM Slap snooze button.

6:10 AM Curse out alarm clock and call it a “lying fucking sack of shit.”

6:12 AM Slap snooze button.

6:21 AM Wake up to alarm. Stare at ceiling and wonder why life is so cruel.

6:22 AM Drag to bathroom. Take morning shit. Wonder if Dubya takes a morning shit. Wonder if he’s amused by the idea that he doesn’t give a shit that he’s shitting on America. Shake head while washing hands.

7:14 AM Watch CNN story about Bush administration obliterating the Constitution. Wonder out loud why Dubya doesn’t just march up Capitol Hill, take a shit on the Senate Floor and wipe his ass with the original copy of the Constitution.

7:15 AM Mrs. NMN explains that “shit” and “ass” are not appropriate words to use in front of the niglets. NMN responds, “Why the fuck not?”

8:00 AM Put in daily call to Donald Rumsfeld’s office. Leave same message as always. “Have we found the WMD yet?” Wait for return call. That shit never happens. Move on with day.

9:00 AM Call Washington DC beauty salons and try to figure out who is responsible for the unfortunate situation residing on Condoleeza Rice’s head. No one admits to any wrongdoing. One queen named Geoffrey suspiciously blurts, “That is classified information!”

12:00 PM Stop at local restaurant for lunch. Watch Mexicans work their asses off. Marvel at their work ethic. Wonder why they all chose to come here just in time for the mid-term elections. That’s some strange shit.

1:00 PM Thrown out of LAPD headquarters after trying, once again, to get help proving that Dick Cheney shot Biggie.

3:15 PM Stopped by kid in street who is walking home from school. He asks why he’s been left behind. I explain that campaign promises are different from actual action and that Dubya never actually funded his education plan. Kid walks away mumbling, “What kind of shit is that?”

4:45 PM Donald Rumsfeld’s office calls. “Now we’re getting somewhere,” I think. An aide explains that phone calls are also covered by the restraining order. I threaten to bust the aide’s ass. He shits himself. I feel a little bit sorry…but not really.

5:30 PM Sitting in rush hour traffic, I wonder how many of the workers around me blame Mexicans for their shit wages and how many of them see through the bullshit and wonder why the national minimum wage hasn’t been raised in nearly a decade.

6:50 PM Watch video that was emailed to me. Shows Dubya playing dress-up under the “Mission Accomplished” banner. Boy, he really shit the bed on that one.

7:35 PM Prepare bottles for kids. Contemplate the fact that formula may be the only fluid that is more expensive than gas these days. Wonder if I can feed the kids gasoline. Won’t help much since, in LA, gas now sells for “pint-o-blood-per-gallon.”

8:00 PM Put kids to bed. Wonder what it will be like for them to watch White people spontaneously combust when the ozone is completely gone. Smile at comedic image until I realize they’ll be dead next. Fight overwhelming urge to find everyone who claims the “jury’s still out” on global warming, rip off their head and shit down their neck.

9:15 PM Enjoy TiVo’d episode of “The Daily Show.” Chuckle to myself at idea that this full of shit administration needs a political enema.

9:17 PM Cry when I realize that the Democrats will probably fuck things up in November and fail to administer said enema.

9:18 PM Call my sister to discuss. She responds, “They got your phone tapped/What you gon’ do/Now all they need is the right word or two/To make it all stick like glue/They got you.” She hangs up.

11:00 PM Fall asleep haunted by the idea that this country is going to shit.

Always Glad To Do My Part…and shit,
A New Millennium Nigga


Blogger Contract Attorney said...

OMG! This shit was fucking funny! Dude, you had shit for brains that day! All I can say is preach!

10:29 PM  

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