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The Parable of St. Dubya

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In the beginning, there was earth and God anointed George W. Bush as its chief bully and caretaker. George, the son of the father, was elected by a five to four vote of the Supreme Command. This landslide vote energized George II into the full meaning of his mission. “Let there be peace on earth,” George II said to his cabinet after that fateful Inaugural Day, “but first, let’s kick some evil butt!”

On the first day, the son of Kings, the scion of capitalism, looked out on the world and Dubya saw that Bill the Fornicator had allowed too many poor people access to capital gains. “Let there be a tax cut,” Dubya declared, and it was done. The capital gains of the poor were redistributed back to the rich, where they might be guarded from speculation in the grocery market. Capital gains, were after all, a birthright for those who could be entertained both by hummingbirds and Hummers.

Still, the poor dared question their social security. While the Social Security lockbox had been buried in the same landslide as Al Gore, there were concerns that Bush would open a series of Social Security casinos and race tracks where poor people’s retirement would be subject to the will of GOP loan sharks. Every poor mother’s son was quickly dispatched to the local Check Cashing Mart and Army recruiting station where they could sing the praises of fighting a mission that had already been accomplished. “If ever I left Baghdad, it wouldn’t be in winter,” the soldiers would sing. “Seeing Baghdad in winter, I never would go. Saddam in a spider hole, bombers bursting in air, Weapons of mass incineration in your hair, Democracy is still a game, a Mission Accomplished that puts America to Shame. “

In the meantime, another kind of social security — the homeland variety — had developed from a Close Encounter of the Tragic Kind into a political football riddled with levels of color that would tear at the fabric of the American constitution. Still, the caretaker found in this still another opportunity to diminish the community of poor and defenseless by locking them effortlessly behind bars and turning them into castrated, helpless Florida voters.

Finally, with the number of poor people on Earth diminished to just a handful, the caretaker ripped his next idea from a book his wife once read to him. “Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus,” Dubya thought to himself. “What if we send these folks back where they came from? “

For those in Dubya’s world, a new national purpose had been found. There was plenty of available land on Mars, according to the latest pictures from the planet. Chances were that Venus also had plenty of room. But how could they motivate the poor to leave Earth and take their chances on another planet?

“I know!“ Dubya said excitedly as he pushed his white cane forward into the cabinet room, where an interpreter was busy making a gesture in sign language to those who couldn’t hear. “We will encourage, nay FORCE all poor people to get married. Once they spend a couple of years on Mars together, the women will voluntarily join an expeditionary force on Venus!”

George Bush looked blindly around the Cabinet room and saw that this was good.

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