Here, put this fucking thing to sleep

Bushbag is handing off his Attorney General, disguised as a small black dog, to a nearby white person, with instructions to put him down, and I don't mean on the ground. I mean IN the ground. Fredo has been peeing on the floor and chewing on the furniture. Time to get tough with the little feller. And shoot him in the fucking head. Bad dog. Bad Fredo. Sit Fredo. Sit over there. In fucking hell. Arf.

The Bushman wants you to meet his Attorney General

Stupid Fucking George, as the staff calls him, is shown here with what he believes is his Attorney General. He thinks if he moves the little arms, not only can the Attorney General fly, he can fly away from Congress and not have to testify or do any of the things a real Attorney General might be expected to do, like tell the truth, or administer the law, or other dopey stuff like that. Bushlips actually does believe this. That's how fucking stupid he is. Don't look at me. You fucking elected him. Twice.

Mr Poopy Pants says No Testifryin', Nosirreee

Big Shit in Chief is not going to cave to the little fellers in the white hats who want us all to start suddenly telling the truth, UNDER OATH, for christs sake. Are they insane? Harriet wouldn't know the truth if it fell on her like the house in the fucking Wizard of Oz. And Rover? Let's just say Karl and the truth are not intimately fucking acquainted. Anyway, what the fuck does it matter? What are they going to do? Impeach? They get rid of him, and who do they get? ME!! So that's not fucking likely, now is it? They should just face it--they're fucked and there's not a goddamn thing they can do about it. Now if you will excuse me, I'm off to Dubai for a Halliburton meeting.

You're doing a heck of job, little brown person

Yessiree, when old Bushwick gets that beady "and your name is...?" look in his eye, you can read the handwriting written in shit on the bathroom wall. Little Fredo is out on his round little ass. Funny how the torture didn't get him, and the wiretapping didn't get him, and ripping the shit out of the Constitution didn't get him. I don't know why everybody's so fucking worried about a few useless fucking weaselly lawyers. I seem to recall shooting one in the face and nobody gave a shit. That was me, wasn't it? I was so fucking drunk, who remembers. Anyway, ciao, Four Eyes. Don't let Harriet bang you on the ass on your way out.

Does the phrase "Martial Law" mean anything to you?

Right. Things are getting bad. Libby convicted, Walter Reed crybabies sniffling all over the place, those fucking attorneys we fired, Iraq is a shitstorm, Afghanistan is falling apart, who the fuck knows what's next? Guess what, fuckface, we knows. We declare martial law and take over the fucking country. Dissolve Congress, hang a few senators, get rid of the fucking Supreme Court and send the army out into the streets to shoot the protestors and generally get things going our way again. Did somebody say concentration camps? We're ready, suckers. You think we're not? You don't like it? Tell it to the hand, motherfucker.

Dickama bin Cheneystan

Yo, Gore gets an Oscar and I get a fucking suicide bomb? What's up with that? Who's Vice and who's the fucking has been around here? And hey, I thought we'd already won in Afghanistan. Something is seriously fucked up around here. So during those few days a year when I'm not sitting somewhere in a fucking undisclosed location, I am definitely gonna be in disguise, something way fucking mid east friendly, know what I mean? My loving man-hating baby girl Mary chose this particular outfit for me. She likes the pubic quality of the beard. So do I. Fuck you, suicide bombers.