Little Green Footballs

Friday, September 09, 2005

Taking levee of his senses

This week, as the bodies of the drowned and murdered floated down Canal Street, the man responsible for the welfare of the remaining citizens of New Orleans stretched, yawned, scratched his arse, took a leisurely shower, did a few interviews, smiled
for the cameras and wondered in passing what was for breakfast. 'A desperate crisis? Shucks. Is no one else available? *Shucks.*

At last George W. Bush, the blame game's most enthusiastic spectator, mooched down New Orleans way. It hardly seemed possible that any one individual could hope to garnish such a superlatively hellish event with more ghastliness, but Bush is a
try-hard good old boy with rancid cherries to spare.

Next time you need to bestow words of comfort upon a city destroyed by your negligence, why not refer to TFT's handy guide to doing a Bush-style bang-up PR salvage job?

1) Inspire confidence by demonstrating that you and your team are all pulling together, and that you are on personal terms with said team. This will successfully deflect from the fact that the team doesn't know what the fuck it's supposed to be doing. Say 'Brownie, you're doing a heck of a job.' (To inept, squirming
FEMA head Michael Brown.) And smirk.

2) Remind grieving, displaced citizens of the good old times that will surely come again. Try a little disingenuous self-deprecation while you're at it. Say 'This was where I used to come to enjoy myself - occasionally too much!' And grin
sheepishly. After all, you used to be a rotten drunk and hideous coke-fiend, but now you've been saved! Just like all those good folks in... oh.

3) Finally, clinch it by encouraging everyone to look to the future. Wipe away an imaginary tear (or booger, as you prefer), stand tall and say: 'Out of the rubbles [sic] of [Senator] Trent Lott's house - he's lost his entire house - there's going to be a fantastic house. And I'm looking forward to sitting on the

4) Grin in glorious obliviousness some more. Snicker.

5) Wonder why your own nation and everyone else's considers you a worthless, worthless bastard.

[Nicked from the fantastic 'The Friday Thing']

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