The vermin who seized power in 2000 proclaimed that the adults were now in charge. In fact, they are a gang of petulant, ill disciplined children. They have learned, however, to play on the fears of a timid country, on its desire for protection by a daddy figure, on its old preference for pretence over reality, on its reluctance to think for itself.

Like a child who doesn’t want to be told that Santa Claus isn’t real, America wants to believe that the second-string cheerleader posing as its president is a cowboy, a tough guy, a straight shooter. We must be insistent about the truth: George Bush is an impotent, effeminate wimp, a mentally befuddled fool, a greedy, spoiled brat, a pretend cowboy who cannot even ride a horse and lives on a former pig farm he calls his ranch, compelled to swagger and lie about his athleticism just as he lies about his intellectualism and knowledge of Spanish.

Yeah, I’m back. I thought I could back off the BushBashing for a while, but no, I cannot. This article has me so riled that I have to leave the internet space and go to something more wholesome, like NYPD Blue. Read the article, and then read more of the same here.

Then act