The Bushiad
Chapter 19: Uncurious George

The Idyossey
Chapter 1- Ichor of the Gods
Chapter 2- The Price of Peace
Chapter 3- Empyre
Chapter 4- Woeful Warrior
Chapter 5- Mitzvah
Chapter 6- News Analysis
Chapter 7- Strategic Planner
Chapter 8- Aristea
Chapter 9- Last Supper
Chapter 10- Skullduggery
Chapter 11: Family Reunion
Chapter 12- Black Goddess
Chapter 13- Saboteur
Chapter 14- Glossolalia
Chapter 15- Visitation
Chapter 16- Dead or Alive
Chapter 17- Across the Border
Chapter 18- The Unraveling
Chapter 19- Summer in the City
Chapter 20- Wolf and Jackal
Chapter 21- George Gloats
Chapter 22- Surreality
Chapter 23- Kidnapped
Chapter 24- Denouement

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The Bushiad
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Late April in D.C. the cherry trees are thick with bud,
The first warm day of spring bursts with pink,
Clouds of blossoms hugging paths and busy streets,
Soft pink snow covering the ground, blowing
In the light breeze across the slow Potomac
A festival of color, heralding the season’s change.

On the White House lawn, Simple George joins Spot,
Using a light-headed driver to hit orange tennis balls.
Spot bounds across the grounds in hot pursuit,
Eager to please and to retrieve the fuzzy prey.
He brings it back to George, holds it just out of reach
George lunges, then tugs the ball from Spot’s tight jaws.

With easy strokes, George sends tennis balls flying.
Though dressed in his gray woolen suit, he’s relaxed,
Barely working up a sweat, grinning at the game.
Spot, ears flapping, canine excitement flowing,
Responds to his master as though he’s Alpha Dog,
Which, to Spot, he is.

A Newsweek reporter and photographer watch,
Delighted at the exclusive photo op.
Time Magazine pissed George off, criticized him,
So he grants Newsweek this presidential moment.
No cover shot, but the double-truck center spread
Shows Simple George’s “Joe six-pack” side.

Shot muffed, a ball veers sharply to the left.
“Don’t report that one,” George sticks out his tongue.
They laugh as Spot dashes off to fetch. George
Raises his club, leans it against his shoulder
Walks back to the Oval Office, reporters in tow.
“You’ve got thirty minutes, talk fast,” he taunts them.

Presidential access is a rare occurrence
And this month Newsweek is favored.
The Bush Administration is carefully managed
By Karl Rove, spokespersons scripted,
No slips of tongue, always on message.
No quarter is given to the enemies of the state.

Reason of State’s not abstract to the Bushies.
Governance is all, its goals precise,
Public order and stability top the short list.
In the past some called it “Law and Order”,
It simply is policing: discipline, surveillance,
Coercion, punishment, and control.

The media is but a tool in this panoptic plan,
Presidential sound bites tested and approved.
Simple George a mouthpiece, poor one at that,
He mangles English when he speaks, so he’s
Learned to stick close to the script, use simple slogans,
Speak in short phrases and not think.

He sits with the reporters, but ignores their questions,
“We’ve done our job in Iraq, now it’s up to the Iraqis,
It’s time to stimulate more jobs! We need a tax cut.”
They ask about Afghanistan: “Americans love Freedom.”
To a question on Bin Laden he says, “Terrorists hate Freedom.”
The economy is raised, and he replies, “Tax cuts make jobs.”

The 30-minute interview flies by. He says
"Evil" seven times, "God" nine, "faith" six.
"Weapons of Mass Destruction" gets mentioned twice,
Its focus group rating has slipped, but "jobs" he uses 27 times,
And "tax cuts" 17. He makes no response to questions about
Cluster bombs, depleted uranium, or civilian deaths.

Reporters leave the Oval Office.
Simple George picks up the phone.
“Well, how’d I do?” he asks, “I think I did ok.”
“We all agree,” say Cheney, Rove and Ashcroft,
“You handled that quite well. Let’s review the tape
Tomorrow, after breakfast.”

“OK,” says Simple George, “Thanks,” and hangs up.
He drums his fingers not sure what’s next,
Considers lunch, and strangely thinks of SARS.
He can’t remember its full name,
If the first word is "Sudden" or "Severe."
He makes a note to ask someone, then yawns.

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