HOME | POLITICS | SPORTS | LIFE | SCI/TECH | OPEDS | HELPFUL TIPS
|
May 17, 2006 I’ll never forget the night, May15th 2006. I was glued to my television set (had to get fingernail polish remover to remove myself from it) waiting for our President to give his Immigration Speech, a speech that will obviously go down in history. I knew I was in for a nail-biting performance when I saw the look on our President Bush’s face. He meant business and I was ready for whatever our fearless commander placed on the table. His tanned and chiseled jaws began to move as if commanding his pursed lips to spew forth wisdom of the ancients. George would not be denied. His words flowed like an easy ocean breeze across my living room. I was fed and satiated by this good shepherd of a faltering flock called America. I was not disappointed. This small giant among us aroused me far beyond any intimate experience in my life. I hung on every word until my wife came into the room asking me if I knew Ralph Newly had been killed in a tragic double homicide. I hushed her. She wouldn’t hush so I rammed my knee into her Xiphoid Process and threw her to the floor. She moaned only for a moment. I looked at her purpling face for only a second when the words came. Oh yes, those precious words came. “I have authorized six thousand National Guard troops…” Yes. YES! I shoved my dog off her recliner jumping to the top of the chair and shouted with glee. Spewing the skeptic’s syrup all over my wife’s body (which now was slowly turning pink again), I shouted “This is good!” My dreams had come true. “I have something to drool about.”
The President’s lips moved again. I waited. “Guest workers, blah, blah.” Yes. Double YES! I have more to drool about. I jumped off my chair and landed squarely on the cat’s tail. “Amnesty!” I shouted. “He’s talking about amnesty.” More ammunition had been loaded into my Liberal machine gun. “Thank you, Mr. President.” I said softly, grateful for more conservative bologna. Next week I hope he parts the waters of Lake Michigan or maybe turns the Wabash River into wine. Thank you Mr. President from the very bowels of my brain.
|
||||||
|
|
|||||||
|
