 Forgive me while I indulge myself once more. It’s like a drug to me (no, not cocaine!). Just think of all that oil! Oceans of it! If I could only get my hands on it I would explode in ecstasy! A new dawn in America. Rivers and rivers of oil pouring in all because of little ol’ me! Mount Rushmore, make room for one more! Today, there are people who want to ruin my dream. They’re called Realists. I hate them and God hates them. So let me recount to you how and why I went into Iraq; my need to penetrate her. I’m a humble man and it’s like me to shine a light on my glory, so I feel it’s truly in the best interests of God that I do this. And we all want to make God happy, don’t we? It, like, totally sucked when first I was President! I was sooo sulking! I had this way cool army to play with and rad weapons to kick ass with and like no way to spank Iraqi butt with them. But I am a Godly god and all that time I spent up in my room I was prayin’ real hard to get what I wanted to make God happy. And then it happened: 911! Thank you, God!  “Well,” he says with his best Darth Vader grin, “this means the best thing possible: war!” “Golly, Mr. Cheney, do you think we’ll win??” “Of course we’ll win! We’re the God guys. Everything we do is good. We’re going to kick bad guy Saddam’s ass from here to the Alderaan System!” “You mean we get to invade Iraq, Mr. Cheney?” “The Empire must be protected.” “Yeeehaw! I’m gonna ride Laura like a cowboy home from a three month cattle drive!” So I ran back to my room, got on my bestest cowboy boots, told Laura she was gonna bark like a dog that nite! and ran back to daddy. That’s when he almost hit me with his light saber as I squealed back into the room. “Careful, Mr. Cheney! That saber might be plastic but you can still poke an eye out with it!” “That’s OK,” he corrected me. “It would only be your eye. I’ll have to take you hunting with me sometime.” “You know what? I’ve been thinking! I been asking God real hard to get me in Iraq’s pants and then God makes it happen! I really wasn't just talking to myself all this time. You know what this means? I am on a mission from God…” My voice trailed off at that moment as I realized just how holy I am. I’m on a mission from God, just like the Blues Brothers. No one can critical me now. I’ll be a flashlight in the world and plant my seed in the Middle East to forever bear my fruit of the loom. I am the new Moses.  Darth Cheney (he said that’s what I was supposed to call him now), decided to make up all the plans because he said he was “good at fucking people over.” Saddam’s gonna get it now! We watched WWII movies all night and saw how people was screaming and yelling and loving us Americans. “That’s going to be us,” smirked Darth knowingly. Then we watched Bambi and high-fived when the good guy hunter hit his mark. I don’t keep my brain on me, it’s another person. Me and Darth call him Emperor Rove because he’s so wizardy and has special powers to know things. Can I pick ‘em or what! The Emperor told us how he was gonna keep the people scared proper so they would follow me no matter what. He said he could turn real live people into sheep; that a whole third of them was sheeps already, another half we could keep in line with his hysterical trance and the rest we would have to kill because they was traitors.  And, wow, was my brain smart! Everyone started doing my bidding, I was strutting like a Jedi! I was shocked and awed! This only happened because I was doing God’s work. My Brain said God would make people love me and look up to me. I remember I went jogging one day with this soldier who loved me even though I got his legs blowed off and there he was trying to keep up with his fake ones. Was all I could do to keep from laughing! I love my toy soldiers. They’re just like those little plastic army men, only better. These guys really shoot! They’re badass! I like to hang with my toy men and talk about what badasses we are. They love me and want to die for me and God. I can’t tell you what a great feeling it is when people die for you. It really gets me “hott”! Greed is like a religion to me. God gives money to all us good guys. That’s why people who got lots of money like me the most. But you gotta take care of the dollar if you want God to love you! Me and the Emperor and Darth Cheney and Boba Fett Rumsfeld all got together on how to make money off this. Darth and the Emperor said how we can take all that oil and use it to pay the whole cost for the war! Genius! And then just like the great bounty hunter Boba Fett, good ol’ Rummy says he can do the war real cheap because we got the Death Star and God on our side and we can blow up like a hundred Iraqi families with just one bomb, so all our troops will be AOK. Are we God’s chosen or what!!  "Naturally the common people don't want war; neither in Russia, nor in England, nor in America, nor in Germany. That is understood. But after all, it is the leaders of the country who determine policy, and it is always a simple matter to drag the people along, whether it is a democracy, or a fascist dictatorship, or a parliament, or a communist dictatorship. Voice or no voice, the people can always be brought to the bidding of the leaders. That is easy. All you have to do is to tell them they are being attacked, and denounce the pacifists for lack of patriotism and exposing the country to danger. It works the same in any country."I was like, wow, we can do that easy! Then I got all bummed because I remembered icky Saddam wasn’t the one who attacked us. But Mr. Patriot Darth Cheney solved all that. He told me how this other guiding soul did it and he was one of the great liars of all time. It goes like this: "All this was inspired by the principle - which is quite true in itself - that in the Big Lie there is always a certain force of credibility; because the broad masses of a nation are always more easily corrupted in the deeper strata of their emotional nature than consciously or voluntarily; and thus in the primitive simplicity of their minds they more readily fall victims to the Big Lie than the small lie, since they themselves often tell small lies in little matters but would be ashamed to resort to large-scale falsehoods. It would never come into their heads to fabricate colossal untruths, and they would not believe that others could have the impudence to distort the truth so infamously. Even though the facts which prove this to be so may be brought clearly to their minds, they will still doubt and waver and will continue to think that there may be some other explanation. For the grossly impudent lie always leaves traces behind it, even after it has been nailed down, a fact which is known to all expert liars in this world and to all who conspire together in the art of lying."I was kinda scared reading all that (what the heck does 'strata' mean anyway??). I mean, would it really work, is people that dumb? Great Cheney just cackled when I asked him that. He said, “The Emperor is your brain but I’m your balls.” That’s when I was positively hopefuller we would pull off one of the best frauds ever for God! (Gossip alert! When Emperor Brain found out Boss Cheney was my balls he got real mad 'cause he wanted to be my balls and said we had to start calling him Rove the Barbarian.)  P.S. Some non-believers wanted me to edit this most holy of documents. I rebuked them mightily and asked, “Would you have me edit the Torah too?” I had one of my best smirks ever after that one! |
Everyone asks where's the proof this President lied about his reasons for going to war. My reply: where's the proof he didn't?
2 comments:
go fuck yourself
Gotcha Mr. 64-190-133-34.static.cypresscom.net! Stings like a bitch, don't it??
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