I Left My Bush in San Francisco

To George the Second Paris
Seems somehow sadly gay,
Friend Berlusconi's Rome
Is just another day,
He's been terribly alone
And forgotten in Manhattan,
He's going home
To treat sewage by the bay.

I left my Bush in San Francisco,
High on a hill his IQ's to be
Once dead, like little cable cars
Climb halfway to the stars.
His fascist fog may chill the air,
I don't care.
My Bush waits there in San Francisco,
Above the blue and clear discharge,
When he comes home to you, San Francisco,
Your golden turds will shine at large.

Thanks to an august body of concerned citizens, the Presidential Memorial Commission of San Francisco, San Francisco voters will be asked to consider naming a local sewage plant for George II. Looks like democracy is working for once.

Yes, I know that that's probably the work of Comrade Al worshipping moon bats. But as I despise wing nuts and moon bats equally (I'm, so to speak, an equal opportunity despiser), I still get a good laugh out of this one.

By the way, the same honor should be bestowed on any future President who isn't a Libertarian, hell, on any politician who isn't. Too bad there aren't enough sewage plants. Then again, some more might be purpose built. Then, for the first time in history, politicians would be good for something: eliminating raw sewage.

On the other hand, there's a cheaper option. During the Thirty Years' War, a popular method of torture was force-feeding feces to the torturee.

They called it the Swedish drink. I guess our Scandinavian friends invented it. Or at least their Catholic enemies blamed inventing it on them.

So if politicians proliferate like locusts, instead of giving them power and money, why not quench their thirst with something the people have more than enough of? Would be a fitting tribute to the heroes of Abu Ghraib.

You water board potentially innocent suspects turned over for cash by Afghan warlords, you get free drinks in return. Fair is fair.