He's stupid but he's mean

Sometimes I can almost admire that useless drooling little fuck. He might be the stupidest fucking person on the planet, but, fuck, is he mean. He's drive over your baby daughter mean, he's shoot somebody in the head because he's wearing a red shirt mean. He's mean. Mean drunk, mean sober, just fucking mean. And fucking bottomless fucking pit yawning chasm black hole stupid. Stupid as a fucking fork. This monkey fucking moron couldn't find his face if it wasn't stapled to the front of his skull. Mean and stupid. He the man.

Al fucking fucking fucking Gore

I swear to christ if I hear one more goddamn word about fucking Al Gore, I'm going to shoot someone else in the face. What is with that motherfucking loser? Why can't he crawl away into the sunset like he's supposed to do? He LOST, remember? Maybe he got more votes, maybe we fixed a few machines in Ohio, maybe the Supremes turned it our way after we paid them off, but he L-O-S-T. Get it, shit heads? And oooooh global warming, we're all gonna drown. Forget about it. Halliburton will fix it all. Easy peasy. A few trillion dollar noncompete contracts, and presto the world is as good as new again. Or as good as New Orleans. Al fuckwit Gore. Just what I fucking need, lurking around, kissing up to the press with his movie, oh, he's got a movie. What a fucking pussy. He should wish he was stiff. I could stiff him, right up his globally warm ass.

Memorial Day, my ass

Remember the dead soldiers, yeah, right. Well, excuuuuuuuse me, but what the fuck are soldiers supposed to do if not die? That's their fucking job. Someone's got to get out there and take the shrapnel in the gut, and it sure as fuck aint gonna be my pussy licking little daughter. I'm sick of the whining and the complaining, we got no armor, we got no telefuckingcommunications, we got no leadership, we got no plans. Get a life, dickforbrains. You are there to die. We sent you there to die. If you could get a real job, would you be in the army? I don't think so. So shut the fuck up and get out on that boobytrapped road. Then we can remember you. Whoever the fuck you are.

Pardon me?

Yes, we'll pardon you, KennyBoy. And we'll pardon Libby and we'll pardon Rove. We'll pardon any of you that's stupid enough to get caught. That's what friends are for, right? As long as you don't flip and implicate us. It's called carrot and the stick. And if you stick it to us, we'll drive a stick through your heart faster than you can claim a primary residence. Keep your mouth shut, Kenso, and you're safe as fucking pie.

Welcome to DickWorld, Graduate Fuckwads

Here's my advice to all you little mouseturds: do what I say and you will be fine. Do not question me. Do not talk back to me. Do not dare to suggest I have done anything wrong. Do not propose I do anything except exactly what I fucking want to do. Do you think I give a big fat fuck what you think? Do you think you can do anything to me? Look around. What do you see? Me, up here. At LSU Deep in the land of Katrina. Is there any fucking place less appropriate for me to be? But do I care? Do I care we're evicting people from their FEMA trailers so they're going to be completely homeless? Who gives a shit. I have my hundred million and you have nothing. Fuck you, Graduates. Fuck you all.

Fucking buggy

Suddenly I feel so much safer. Bugshit for Brains in Chief is on the case, making sure all those fucking maids and handymen stop sneaking across the border. Though what border is he patrolling--the moon border? What the fuck kind of vehicle is that? They can't use a fucking jeep? I swear to fucking christ, I never know what he's doing. Don't I have enough to do, with fucking Iran and Russia and North Korea, not to mention fucking fucking fucking Iraq? Now he has to whip those useless braindead conservative morons into a Mexican frenzy? All I fucking need. Why can't he just ride his stationary bike into the fucking sunset? And take that horsefaced pigcow of a wife with him.

Shut the fuck up and let me sleep

What's worse than a fucking Secretary of State? Five of 'em, in a room, whining and complaining and having ideas. Jesus Fucking Christ. Who the fuck can stay awake with that load of bullshit steaming through the room? And here's Turdface trying to remember their names, and then just calling everybody Buddy. And he keeps talking about migration. Fuck, that man is stupid. It's IMmigration, I keep telling him. IMmigration. Migration is what birds do--before you shoot 'em. Oh, what the fuck difference does it make? Let me sleep.

Shhhh. I'm listening to your phone call

I'm being very quiet, of course, though if you hear some heavy breathing, that's me. Right now you're telling your sister how you got fucked in the ass last night by some drug addict loser you picked up in your AA meeting. Pretty fucking interesting. Especially the part where you took Ecstasy and cough syrup and tequila. Fucking yum. Oh, and now you're talking to your doctor about how your pussy hurts. I wouldn't fucking wonder. You're much more fucking fun than the priest I was listening to yesterday, with all those fucking confessions he was telling some nun about. Though I was a little surprised he named names the way he did. We may not be learning a fucking thing about terrorist attacks but we get some pretty fucking great dirt. Hold the phone, you fuckwits.

The son I never had

I'm so fucking proud of my big dyke daughter. Here we are with me pointing out a nice piece of ass she might like to go muff-diving on. Yeah, Mary's not like your ordinary homo person. For instance, she hates other homo's, like I do. And she hides in the closet when I need her to, so the brainless christian right can forget she exists when I need them to. Not that I give a shit about any of that. She could be a serial killer of down syndrome idiot kids and it wouldn't make any difference to me. In fact, that might be nice now that I think of it. And she'll shove her homo-ness down people's throats when I need her to, like showing up at the convention with that butch bitch she's diddling. And she and I go huntin' and fishin' and play baseball and talk about fucking women all the time, you know regular father and son stuff, except obviously she's a lesbo clit licking pervert. Not a real man. Like me.

We're going down

Things are not looking so fucking great at the moment. Even if Shit For Brains In Chief didn't fill his mouth with feet every time he opens it, we'd still be looking at fucking disaster this November. His approval rating is almost as low as mine. Probably his only fucking accomplishment all year. Good going, Ape Face. And now you spend all your time talking about your brother? Can you possibly be even stupider than I thought? Do you really think by mentioning Jed or Jeb or whatever the fuck his name is, you can distract this genius electorate? Your whole family is about as thick as a fucking plank, including that white haired horsefaced old bitch who pretends to be your mother. I'd flush all of you down the shitter, except you'd clog up the pipes in my undisclosed location.

Rove, Hayden or Porky Pig -- you decide

Karl Rove was so pissed off about being moved over he made us hired a Rove Look Alike. This will come in handy when Rove gets indicted because he'll hide behind Rove2 and everyone will get very confused and Rove1 can slip out the back way and go teach ethics at Jerry Falwell University. No one ever accused Pigboy of being stupid. Just fat and nasty. Two of my favorites.

Do I know you?

Since I basically destroyed the fucking CIA, I don't give much of a fuck who runs it but I sure as fuck wouldn't have given it to Porker Gas, or whateve the fuck his name is. Here's the Moron in Chief trying to remember who he is and what he's doing at the podium. I don't know who's stupider of the two--well, actually, yes, I do. Hands down, Bikey Brains wins that one. And did ya notice the extra smooth way he's gotten rid of him? No explanation, no reason, no nothing. Nothing but questions and suspicion of a big fucking scandal just waiting to break. Me, I'd just shoot 'em in the face and get it over with. Worked before.

Undisclosed location of my face

Yes, it's true. I am a creature of the night. And yes, I do travel with a protective biohazard suit. Right in a bag in the backseat. Why the fuck not? I am Vice. I run this fucking country and I gotta be alive to do it, right? Those terrorists are out there. Just waiting. And yes, I'm trying to stay one step ahead of the Jackal. Yes, yes, I know you think he's in prison, but that won't stop him. He's a fucking maniac and he's got a bullet with my name on it. I know it. You know how I know? The toaster told me. That's right. The toaster talks to me all the time. And the microwave, of course. But I don't trust that fucking microwave. I trust the toaster. The toaster has never let me down. Unlike, for instance, Lynne, the wackjob. Anyway, so yeah, I protect myself. I'm gonna live forever.

What the fuck is a hybrid?

Well, fuck me, I've looked and I've looked and I can't see how this is any of our fault. We met with all the oil companies and they said they couldn't do anything about the prices and lordy were they surprised at their profits. I know we met in secret and I won't even say who I met with but trust me, they're as surprised as we are. And we met with the Arabs and they said it wasn't their fault. As far I can tell, it's the fucking Democrats that are causing the gas prices to be so high. Or the terrorists. Yeah, that's it. The terrorists did it. Blame them. Nothing to do with me. I wasn't there. I don't know. Beats me. Who'd have known? Big surprise. Not my fault.

Condo at the fucking keyboard

Now I don't know about you but if my whole fucking world was falling down around my useless fucking ears, I wouldn't be wasting my time playing the fucking piano with a fucking slant. Yo Yo Ma Ma or whoever the fuck this is is not the new president of Iraq where she should be spending her time, right?
For some reason, Condo has decided not to do everything I tell her. WTF. How the fuck does she think she got her job? Merit? Looks? As fucking if. She serves at my pleasure, as Rumsfuck keeps saying. Except he pretends he's talking about the Moron in Chief. So, listen, honeychile, you better git with the program. MY program. And stay off the fucking piano.