“All I’m saying is that we need a draft because our military is full of morons,” Representative Charlie Rangel told Chris Wallace. “Most who join the military are people who wandered into a recruiting office thinking it was a candy store and then were too stupid to figure out how to use the door knob to get out. By drafting smarter people into the military, we’ll free up the mentally handicapped who currently serve so they can go back to sweeping the floors at McDonalds.”
“Do you really think it’s wise to talk about the troops in such a demeaning way?” Wallace asked.
“We Democrats made our complete and utter contempt for the military clear before the election and take the result of the election to mean that the American people share our contempt for the inbred morons we now have risking their lives overseas.”
President Bush shut off the TV. “I wish that man would just SHUT UP!”
Tony Snow nodded. “What he’s saying is pretty despicable.”
“Oh, I was just talking about his voice; it’s so annoying and raspy.” Bush looked to Tony with concern. “Why? What was he saying? Was it about me?”
Tony rolled his eyes. “Anyway, I have to explain to the press how you missed your last speech because you got trapped in a bathroom stall again.”
“Okay, but have you seen Rummy around?”
“I believe he was last seen being lead away by police as the suspect for a long series of serial killings.”
Bush chuckled. “That wacky Rummy; what mischief will he get into next.”
Tony left and a group of fat Republican Congressman smoking cigars entered the Oval Office. Bush looked at his schedule. “I’m supposed to meet with the new Republican leadership now, but you guys look like the old leadership.”
“Ha!” Roy Blunt laughed, his belly shaking like a bowl full of tax money. “We didn’t see any reason to change leadership. We’re the Republican Party and we know what’s best.”
“But won’t the base be unhappy with no changes after the big election loss?” Bush asked.
“Our response to the Republican base will be to punch them in the face, knock them down into a puddle, spit on them, and then yell, ‘What are you going to do? Start your own party?'” Blunt and the rest of the Congressman then laughed.
Bush thought for a moment. “I don’t think they’ll like that.”
“So what? What are they going to do? Start their own party?” Representative Boehner demanded.
Bush shrugged. “Yeah, I guess they can’t do that. It’s not like they’re going to vote for whatever dyed blue freak holding a ferret the Libertarians are fielding either.” He then noticed Trent Lott was with the group. “Hey, I thought he got thrown out of leadership years ago.”
“But I’m back now!” Lott exclaimed. “And I’m the new minority whip in the Senate!” He pulled out a whip and cracked it in the air. “That’s right! I’m going to whip me some minorities! Gonna whip the black right off ’em!”
Blunt shrugged. “We’ll talk to him.”
“So what are we going to do about the border issue?” Bush asked. “Everyone keeps yelling at me over that one.”
Blunt thought about it. “Well, I mentioned how we are going to punch the Republican base in the face. I guess we can also yell at them to stop hating brown people. It’s not like we want to stop Mexicans from getting in here; if we don’t get more of them, who will cut my lawn? You?”
“Sure, I can do it,” Bush said. “With my new lame duck status, I have more free time.”
“Nah… you’d do it all wrong. It has to be done my Mexicans.”
Bush shook his head. “I dunno. A lot of people are going to get angry if we don’t at least pretend to do something about illegal immigration.”
“I’ll stop the Mexicans!” Lott shouted. “I’ll whip the chalupas right out of their hands.” He cracked his whip some more.
Bush looked back towards Blunt. “You are going to talk to him, right?”
“Eh, I don’t see any reason to worry. Remember, all we have to do is be better than the Democrats. That’s like trying to out run an invalid; why even break a sweat?”
“I guess that makes sense. Does Rove approve of all of this?”
The hooded figure of Karl Rove emerged from the shadows. “Everything is going according to plan.”
“And you do have an actual plan, right?” Bush asked. “This isn’t like how Battlestar Gallatica starts by saying the Cylons have a plan but with each new episode you doubt that even more?”
Karl Rove laughed an evil laugh and disappeared back into the shadows.
“Well, we better get back to work,” Blunt said. “It’s not like the Republican base will punch themselves. Isn’t that right, Representative Coca-Cola?”
A Congressman nodded in approval.
Bush furrowed his brow. “Representative Coca-Cola?”
“I sold my last name out as advertising space!” Coca-Cola said.
“Is that a conflict of interest?”
Coca-Cola began to advance on Bush, but Blunt grabbed his shoulder. “We’re not allowed to punch him in the face.”
The Congressmen left and Bush sat down at his desk and took a Nintendo DS out of a drawer. “Man, this job got less stressful when I realized that, whether I’m achieving great things or I’m a lame duck who spends all day playing videogames, I still get paid the same.”