Sunday, November 21, 2004

Come sail away...

From Reuters yesterday:

Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale,
a tale of a fateful trip.
That started from this tropic port,
aboard this tiny ship.
The mate was a mighty sailin' man,
the skipper brave and sure.
Five passengers set sail that day,
for a three hour tour, a three hour tour………
The weather started getting rough,
the tiny ship was tossed.
If not for the courage of the fearless crew,
the Minnow would be lost; the Minnow would be lost.
The ship took ground on the shore of this uncharted desert isle,
with Gilligan, the Skipper too,
the Millionaire, and his Wife,
the Movie Star, the Professor and Mary Ann,
here on Gilligan's Isle.


Sorry, I couldn't resist that.

Actually, here's the real tidbit from Reuters:

The Senate voted 65-30 for the legislation late on Saturday that sets aside funds for a range of priorities including a presidential yacht...


This is the good ol' boy that America wants to have a beer with ("Muffy, bring me a microbrew, that's a good girl"), the down home guy who clears brush and gives reporters nicknames. This is the guy who is fighting for values across this great land.

This is the Imperial Presidency, an adolescent's fantasy of power.


Scene: Up in a treehouse, late at night, lit by flashlights:
Georgie: "Dude' I got a boat! And I don't have to pay for it!"

Condi: "Bitchin! Can I come out on it too?"

Dickie: "Of course you can. Didn't Georgie let you join our club?"

Rummy: "Damn! We can sail around all the time, and our parents can't stop us! Cool!"

Georgie: "My dad tries to stop me, I'll throw his bony ass overboard."

Mommy Barb: (heard in the distance) "Oh George, you can't go out on the boat. I told you, it's not yours!"

Georgie: "Aw, man. She'll whip my ass. Crap, I gotta go in. Laters..."