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Political Satire - George Bush

Politics, satire, George Bush,

Nun Negotiable

(A report home to our esteemed creator)

Greetings 1.1 dude,

It's us again. Where were we? Oh yes, the HairyMammals of earth have invented machines to make slavery obsolete. The USA currently has the most machines so we've been monitoring that fair land for a change.

To facilitate our study, Number 11 & Number 8 have constructed a camera which is disguised as a shotgun. They delivered it to the George W Bush 3rd residence, the White House (so called because it is a house and it is white, mostly). Being a predictable HairyMammal, George W Bush 3rd hung the device on the wall alongside his trophies of John Kerry, some bloke playing a saxophone with his zip undone and a moose. From here it was able to film George's behaviour and transmit the same for our detailed scrutiny.

Later the same evening George W Bush 3rd knelt beneath the moose, in front of a blazing log-effect kerosene fire (which was compensated by heavy-duty air conditioning), facing the opposite wall which was bereft of ornamentation apart from one crucifix. No sooner had he started than a dark van - displaying an (*) embarrassment of aerials - pulled up outside with no lights on. Suspicious eh?

(* 'embarrassment' is the collective noun for high-tech gizmos of the non-essential variety).

Two men got out of the van, bumped into each other in the dark (partly due to their eyesight being restricted by their dark glasses, and partly due to wearing dark suits) then assembled a mysterious telecom apparatus which they pointed at GWB3's residence. The two dudes raised their voices in anger as they struggled to get the device to work, and George stood on hearing the noise.

No sooner had they switched it on than our hidden camera detected an ethereal presence in George's room. He sank back to his knees in front of the telecommunicated vision and spake thusly...

'Nun Negotiable! I am unworthy, though more worthy than the axis of evil - Iraq, Iran, Pakistan, North Korea (it is north isn't it?) France, England, ... no hang on, that's Tony Poodle Blah's country. It's near Europe you know, North West Asia ...'

'Calm down George,' intoned the vision, 'and pray continue to, er, pray.'

We noticed that one of the two dudes by the van was saying the vision's words through an octave doubling gizmo that made him sound like a woman.

'Texaco, you democrat - ''Pray continue to pray?'' get a grip willya?' demanded one dark-glassee.

'Chill Shell. George'll never notice,' said the other dude.

'I'm worried about sin,' confessed George.

'Have you kept my, er, the commandments?' asked Nun Negotiable.

'I have. I honour my father and mother, I love god, I love my neighbour as myself.'

'Well done, little George. So what's the problem?'

'I was reading the bible - well, you know, I had an aide read it to me - and heard about the rich young man in the gospel of Mark. ''sell everything you own, give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me.'' Well I'm kinda rich.'

'Don't worry George. God wants you to be rich.'

'Ah, that's good. I can't help but worry about that passage. ''it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God.'' .'

'Relax George. You're a little out of date with technological developments.'

'Howd'ya mean?'

'We've got, I mean, there is a team in Pittsburgh casting a needle right now with a hole four feet in diameter.'

'Are you sure a camel can get through there?'

'And there's bio-technologists at Mondevillo Corporation right now cloning a camel 3 inches long.'

'What's that in metres?' asked George, furrowing his head and scratching his brow (sic).

'George, who cares?'

'Jeez! Double security eh?!' said George as his brain caught up.

'So. What do we have to do, George? I told you last time ... ,' pleaded Nun Negotiable.

'Er, keep the, er .'

'Keep the wheels of industry turning. And tourism. And traffic.'

'That's right. I remember now.'

George furrowed his brow, doing a much better job at the second attempt.

'That reminds me. The envimor, inviromnen, ... , damn, the tree huggers keep on about us using the oil up too fast.'

'Don't worry George. We have to burn lots of liquid gold to keep up the ... remember we, I mean I, told you last time?'

'Oh yeah, to keep up the share prices.'

'That's right George. Oil shares fall, so does the Dow Jones, you lose votes.'

'But when it runs out?'

'Biggest arable farms in the world in North America. We'll grow lots of oil crops.'

'Enough for everyone?'

'Enough for God's chosen people, George,' soothed Nun Negotiable.

'And loving my neighbour?'

'Your neighbour is an OIL BARON, George. Fall out with him and you won't be invited to the oil barons' dinner.'


George went quiet and pondered for a while, like free-thinking people everywhere. He saw a vision ...

A giant pair of scales, on one side the decision:

Two thousand years of increasingly avaricious, extraverted greed, domination of the weak, a succession of empires, manipulation and lies brought to a halt by an American president deciding to have an honest look at American society. Imagine, seriously taxing the wanton burning of irreplaceable liquid gold ...

On the other side:

Being cold-shouldered by a small group of obscenely rich liquid gold burners. Poor little George.

'They're having steak, George,' said Nun Negotiable.

'I'm sure there's something else I needed to ask you.'

'Take your time George,' said Nun Negotiable.

'Something about Samson and a lion and honey.'


'Check it out Texaco.'

'Sure thing Shell.'

'I'm concerned,' said George. 'There's something about killing the greedy lion that leads to honey, sweetness.'

'I expect the lion is the terrorists. George.'

'But America's the most powerful nation on Earth.'

'Got it! It's in Judges,' said Texaco.

'Oh bugger, what we gonna say?'

'I know.'

'George, please kneel and let us pray, er, a bit more.'

'Sure. What were you saying about ''bugger'' ?'

'He wasn't supposed to hear that!'

'I was speaking in tongues, George.'

'I do that when I do up my fly too quick.'

'Yes George.'

'And there's my election coming up.'

'That's easy, George. Just say ''family, God, Liberty, homosexuals, fear, wealth, terrrrists'' at every opportunity and you'll be home and dry.'

'How do you mean, dry? It's been raining for days.'

'I mean, you'll win, George.'

'But don't I need new policies?'

'No, George. That would just confuse you.'

'Ah, good point. Could we have a recap?'

'Sure thing. Just remember - the OIL BARONS' DINNER, George.'

'The oil barons' dinner,' George dutifully intoned.

'One dollar, one vote, George.'

'One dollar, one vote.'

'The American way of life is Nun Negotiable, George.'

'The American way of life is Nun Negotiable.'

'See you tomorrow, George.'

'See you tomorrow, George.'

'You don't have to repeat that bit, George.'

'You don't have to repeat that bit, George.'



So, AloeVera 1.1, there you have it. Chairentity Number 12 reckons we should study the beeping boxes because they're a lot simpler than the HairyMammals. I begin to wonder if the HairyMammals have themselves adopted a similar strategy.

Still, we're understanding democracy better than we did. The multibillionaires in each 'party' elect their chosen stooge, then the 200 million other HairyMammals get to prick. Sorry, I meant pick.

Murdoch controls the media which tells the 200 million which one to pick.

Laugh? Well, nearly. We don't have the necessary biological equipment, though colleague Number 8 has been tinkering in it's workshop, so maybe soon ...

Bye for now

Generation 7

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