The State of the Union Is "Why Should I Fuckin' Care?":
Imagine, if you will, and, indeed, why not, that last night, before the gathered members of Congress and invited guests and on television before the nation - nay, the world - a six-foot tall steaming pile of shit ascended to the podium and, a six-foot tall steaming pile of shit being the President of the United States, delivered the constitutionally-mandated report on the State of the Union. And let us imagine that this six-foot tall steaming pile of shit addressed a room with nearly half of its seats filled with smaller steaming piles of shit (and maybe a coprophagist or two). Yes, most of the humans and demi-humans gathered across the stinking aisle from the piles of shit would hold their noses for the good of the nation, piles of shit and all.

Now imagine within his speech, the six-foot tall stinking pile of shit, who is, after all, the President, told everyone that it was time to stop smelling like shit. That everyone is tired of the shit odor that's been coming out of the Congress for the last five years or so. The Democrats might smell their pits or pants, but surely one couldn't help but notice that the stench of shit was emanating from those who used to have more piles of shit as part of their manure pile. Odd, though, indeed, that a six-foot tall pile of shit would tell other piles of shit to stop stinking.

The six-foot tall stinking pile of shit could continue that it's important to cut down on methane fumes. That the nation had become too dependent on methane fumes and that it's time to seek other ways of producing gassiness. Again, the Democrats might have thought, sure, they burp and fart, but, gazing again over the brownish, greenish, bluish (depending on the meds) shit piles on the other side of the chamber, surely one couldn't help but think that fresh shit perhaps produces a bit more.

Maybe the six-foot tall stinking pile of shit would implore the nation to work together, that we should ignore the fact that half the chamber is filled with shit, that only by working, hand in turd, could America be great. Perhaps, though, most people watching would think that they recently voted to scrape some of the shit off their shoes, that they wanted the people to take back over from the pieces of shit that had led them down the toilet.

And onward and downward President Bush's speech went, with all the enthusiasm of a man asked to dangle his balls over a bear trap. Talking about Iraq as a lover or hunting buddy, Bush said, "[I]t would not be like us to leave our promises unkept, our friends abandoned." See, most everyone who supported the war originally (fools though they were) thought they were just having a summer fling, not getting married. Bush was unrelenting, though, in his whining like a little bitch about wanting to play with his soldier boy toys: "Our country is pursuing a new strategy in Iraq, and I ask you to give it a chance to work." Oh, and in case you thought anything was on the short term, Bush assured us that the war, however big you wanna define it, is "a generational struggle that will continue long after you and I have turned our duties over to others."

So Bush's biggest promise in the speech was 20 more years, at least, of unending war? Who wants to sign up?

Goddamn, it was pathetic, seeing a man who everyone except the most deluded and sad in that chamber knows they cannot take at his word, a man who will lie and tell you his lies are truth, a man who, if he doesn't get his way legally, will simply assert that he is allowed to make the law conform to him. Why listen? Why bother? He certainly didn't fuckin' care enough to even behave like he gives a rat's ass about the majority: after giving Nancy Pelosi a little clitoral tickle, he congratulated the "Democrat majority," using the Republican pejorative adjective for the party. Yeah, what we got to hear were the barely coherent ramblings of a defeated cellar snake, curling in the dank corner, daring anyone to approach so it could strike out with its last breaths.

If it had been a six-foot tall steaming pile of shit in the Capital last night, at least we could have hosed down the podium after it was done, washing the remnants in the clogged sewers of our nation's center of power. (Hell, a six-foot tall steaming pile of shit might have at least mentioned Katrina recovery efforts.)