Damn it, Poppy, you were a lot more likable when you were flashing your fabulous stripey socks and doing gay-lesbian weddings and jumping out of planes for your 117th birthday. Why, we could almost forget that you were the one who learned your boys how to do dumb wars to Iraq. Almost:
In interviews with his biographer, [George H.W.] Bush said that Mr. Cheney had built “his own empire” and asserted too much “hard-line” influence within George W. Bush’s White House in pushing for the use of force around the world. Mr. Rumsfeld, the elder Mr. Bush said, was an “arrogant fellow” who could not see how others thought and “served the president badly.”
We remember it differently. We remember President Bush II — aka “the commander guy” — defensively fellating Donald Rumsfeld to a doubtful White House press corps while declaring, “I’m the decider. And I decide what is best.” Did we hallucinate that?
But apparently, Breakin’ Iraq 2: Electric Boogaloo was all the fault of evil mastermind and close personal friend of the Bush family, Dick Cheney, who, despite bullying poor dumb George into reluctantly saying “hot rhetoric” that “doesn’t necessarily solve the diplomatic problem,” is still “a good man”:
He said he thought Mr. Cheney had changed since serving in his cabinet. “He just became very hard-line and very different from the Dick Cheney I knew and worked with,” Mr. Bush said. He attributed that to the attacks of Sept. 11, 2001. “Just iron-ass. His seeming knuckling under to the real hard-charging guys who want to fight about everything, use force to get our way in the Middle East.”
Ah yes, we recall Cheney recently growling similar thoughts about how Cheney (yes, in the third person) had been a real chill barrel of monkey farts before everything changed, on the day that George W. Bush kept us safe from 9/11.
Turns out, according to Daddy Bush, the real “iron-ass” whose hand was shoved up George’s butt to make him say words (badly) and to play at presidenting (badlier) was the ol’ chain and ball, Mrs. Dick:
He speculated that Mr. Cheney was influenced by his wife, Lynne, and his daughter Liz, both strong conservatives. “I’ve concluded that Lynne Cheney is a lot of the eminence grise here – iron-ass, tough as nails, driving,” he said.
Who knew that it was Lynne all along, with some mommy-daughter bonding assistance from Liz? (Yes, the asshole one.) It was Lynne who forced Dick to name himself the best and only option for George Dubya running mate in the summer of 2000. It was Lynne who told Dick to go forth and torture. Maybe raping prisoners with food stuffs was a scene she had cut from her HAWT lesbians on the wild frontier novel?
All these years, we’ve been wrongly crying to our therapist about the trauma we suffered from Bush’s reign of error, when it was really the Cheney family who sought revenge against Saddam Hussein, for trying to kill George’s dad. What fools we’ve been.
The effort to rehabilitate Dubya’s reputation, and to further revise the history of his presidency, has been in full swing for some time, with Fox News bobblehead and former spokestwit for George Dana Perino doubling down on her insistence that there were no terrorist attacks when her boyfriend was president, because the first one doesn’t count, and the rest of the Fox gang deciding if anyone’s to blame for the 9/11 that didn’t happen, it’s Bill Clinton.
And then there’s Jeb. Poor stupid least-favorite son Jeb, for whom there is not enough therapy in the world to work out his daddy issues, but thankfully he won’t be doing so from the Oval Office. Jeb has spent months defending his brother’s disastrous presidency, while also claiming his Bush genes make him uniquely qualified and capable on matters of foreign policy.
But now his dad has spilled the beans — sorry, Jeb, gonna be another bad day for you — that George was hardly even president that one time, for eight years. It was Dick. And Don. And Lynne.
The Bush family tragedy could not be any more Greek if Jeb borrowed Dick’s face-shooting gun to kill his dad and fuck his mom, though, being a Bush, he’d no doubt shoot himself in the foot instead.
Thanks for emerging from your own spider hole, H.W., to remind us why the whole lot of you should shut the fuck up and fuck the fuck off forever, plus infinity, and then some more.
Or just stick to the socks, Poppy.