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vol 8 - issue 05 (jan 2006) :: stories
PRESIDENTIN' WITH THE DUBSTER
Wroted by me, Dubya!

Youíd think a leader such as myself, who puts American lives on the line every day in the name of stopping the terrorists from eating our freedom, would get millions of letters praising his every move. Youíd be wrong. All I get are emails from foreigners named Viagra, Cialis, and precious little seventeen-year-old Natasha from Moscow, who just moved into a new apartment with her three girlfriends, and has invited me to watch them have fun through her webcam.
 
If Iím not getting any letters from you, how am I supposed to write a column where I answer your letters? Easy. Iíll answer your letters. Literally.
 
"But Dubya," you say. "Isnít tapping into our personal email accounts and reading the emails we send and receive a flagrant violation of our personal privacy, as well as our civil and Constitutional rights?"
 
Well, if I knew what Constitutionals were, Iíd tell you. But since I donít, letís assume theyíre candy. You feel that your candy rights are being "fragrantly violated", which everyone knows is just a polite way of saying "farted on"? In plain English: youíre telling me that my reading your personal emails is farting on your candy rights.
 
Thatís the talk of an insane person, my friend. An insane person named you.
 
I personally would never fart on candy. Thatís just wrong. Sure, I have the right to. Thatís one of the many great freedoms we have as Americans. But Iíd never do it.
 
Now, the terrorists? Total candy farters. In fact, they have guys in their terrorist gangs whose sole job is to go to all the candy stores in Iraqistan and Afghanisyria, and fart on each and every single piece of candy. Saddam Hussein even had a room in his favorite palace that was full of chocolate bars, lollipops, and other sugary yum-yums-- a room he would walk into, pants down, bum bare, and just fart away, shooting each and every piece of candy in that room with farty evil! With each fart, he was basically saying, "Hey, America (and Willy Wonka)! Smell that? Thatís the smell of me hating your freedom! Maybe you should send some troops over to get me, before I send my troops over to America to fart on all the chocolaty sweets your precious country holds so dear!"
 
Which is exactly why I need to keep reading your emails. Do you want to eat candy that smells like terrorist poot? Of course you donít. You want candy that smells like freedom. And thatís what Iím trying to protect: your freedom.
 
Think about that the next time youíre getting really satisfied by a delicious Snickers bar... and it doesnít taste like fart.

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