The Blandness of King George

The thing about being king is that you have to be king all the time. I'll bet this is hard for our King George.

I'm sure there are many times you don't want to be king. But you have to realize, as in that cheesy Excalibur movie from a couple years ago, that you are the land. As you go, so does everything. This means you get to get whatever you want, but it means that every time you sneeze, the land gets sick.

I have this image that the rats are leaving the sinking ship that is George W. I have this image of he and Dick Cheney in a beat-up Dodge--not even a Ford or a Chevy, since the Midwest and Eastern powers that compromised upon him have bailed--cruising Main Street. Everyone has abandoned them except each other. I see George in the driver's seat, his hungry eyes on the lookout for something he's not even sure of and his pal hanging on his every word. Just the two of them, that's all.

The first time I wrote this it was better, but forces conspired to make it disappear. Was that the government reading my every word?

I choose to believe that it must have been. Otherwise, my President is just an aging, lonely guy, driving around in a beat-up Dodge on a street in a no-name town in the middle of nowhere.

There is probably a lot smaller difference between Bruce Springsteen and George Bush than either of them would be willing to admit.

I try to have compassion for those who would consider me their enemies. As for me, I'm committed to loving everyone, especially those aforementioned.

This is going nowhere. Neither am I. Today was a bust of a day, all around. Today was a day about losing things you thought you had. The lesson is: you never did, anyway.