“I hear some talk of guns and butter
Thats something we can do without
If men are only blood and iron
O doktor doktor, whats in my shirt?”
“Guns Before Butter” Gang of Four.
I see you have no qualms about spending a billion dollars a week in Iraq, but heaven forfend we should spend seven billion dollars a year making sure that poor kids don’t stay sick. You see, that’s the problem with the American political system that has benefited you more than any other American. You, Mr. Bush, are a rich, spoiled, pampered dunderhead who could always count on daddy’s insurance to cover your flabby behind when you fell down and got a boo-boo on your head…after one of your alcoholic binges. But you see, Mr. Bush, not all of us were fortunate enough to be born into a position like you. You may not realize this, Mr. Bush, but Americans are not all as lucky as you. My God man, do you even realize that you are the luckiest man in the history of the world? You are even luckier than those incestuous mongoloids who rose to become King despite not even knowing how to read. I’m assuming you can read because I’ve seen you looking into teleprompters. But how someone as incredibly selfish and moronic and delusional as you ever got to become the leader of a country that isn’t a monarchy is the stuff of science fiction. A thousand years from now, people will look back on the first decade of the previous millennium and they will fight battles over whether your administration was real or just a myth. They will shake their heads and they will say, “Surely, no citizens of a country would actually sit idly by while their leader told them that the cost of two and a half weeks of the war on terror was too expensive to save the lives of their children.” And yet, sadly, you do believe that.
Guns before butter, or so the saying goes. But Mr. Bush, I will finally come out and say what your thug-like coopting of the freedom to say what has to be said has succeeded in obstructing. Well, I’m going to say it and I’m going to say it because if it isn’t said, Mr. Bush, your life may soon not be worth a plug nickel. A despot can only laugh away from having those guns turned on him for so long. A despot can put the needs of himself before the needs of children only so long before somebody decides enough is enough. Do you have enough butter yourself, Mr. Bush? I sincerely hope you do. As hard it may be for many people who have read my words to believe, I truly and genuinely don’t want to see you die because I hope to live long enough to see you put on trial for the crimes you have perpetrated against the people of this country. I want to live long enough to see that deer-in-the-headlights look we know all too well as you are led away to prison in chains. But you need to know something, Mr. Bush. When you deny butter to people with guns, they get very hungry. They get hungry enough that they finally wise up and realize that butter is being denied them not by some foreign enemy, but by the man who is putting himself ahead of them. There is long history of people who have put guns before butter, Mr. Bush. I know you aren’t big on cracking open history books, but I urge you to do so. You will find that very often those charged with making sure people don’t get butter turn their aim on the very person who supplied them with the guns. Beware the Ides of March, Mr. Bush.
Enjoy your butter with your fat mother and your protective daddy, Mr. Bush. Just remember that it was I, and not one of your friends, who went out on a limb and genuinely and sincerely signaled to you that you should protect yourself from the same mistakes made by men far superior to you. It was your enemy, and not your friends in the GOP (who I might add would probably like to see you suffer a fatal accident more than the Democrats) that gave you the first warning that sometimes when you put guns before butter…you find out what really is inside your shirt.