George was just sitting down to some tv when Laura came in. Crap, he thought, hiding his beer. “Did you look for a job today?” Laura asked, eying his beer. Bush rolled his eyes. Here we go, he thought. “Sure did darlin’, but darn it, Foot Locker and Pizza Hut weren’t hiring,” he said, chuckling a little at the end.
Laura rolled her eyes. “Have you talked to Condi honey? I heard she got that tanker named after her again.”
“If you’re asking if I called her, yep I sure did. But ever since she started at Exxon, I haven’t heard a peep back.”
Laura pressed, “Oh well I’m sure she’s busy. What about Dick, honey? He’s settled back in at Halliburton by now. Have you talked to him?”
“Yeah, couple of weeks ago,” George answered, clearly annoyed. “He just gave me some high falutin’ CEO talk about how his company is worth like a gazillion times more than when he left, so he’s crazy busy. But he’s all worried if the Obama goes and turns off the wars they’ll have to downsize. So he can’t hire anyone new until that shakes out. Look darlin’, I’ve talked to all of ’em. Dick, Condi, Rummie, Brownie, Gonzalez, Hankie, Ashcroft, Ridge, Stinky Pete, and Cherty. Hell I even talked to that asshole Bolton, but no joy. I mean, it’s a recession darlin’. You can’t blame me for the recession.”
Laura decided to let that one go. “Well then I have great news, George. Footlocker called back for an interview.”
# posted by Derek Chatwood @ 10:36 PM
This is funny, but the humor becomes bitter when you remember how many people these people have killed.