BOBCRESPO.COM'S EXIT INTERVIEW WITH BUSH THE YOUNGER

George W. Bush, winding down his days as president, has been giving "exit interviews" to the news anchors of the big 3 television networks, trying to salvage some sort of dignity from his train wreck of a presidency. Everybody knows that's not in the cards for the man who easily earned the title The Worst American President Ever And Into The Future, but they humor him anyway and lob him all sorts of softball questions. Why should they grow journalistic balls this late in the game? These clueless, spine-free walking hairdos haven't posed a hard question to a president in decades.

Well, that's not the case here at bobcrespo.com. In a first for a president Bush The Younger has agreed to sit for an interview with a major internet web site. None of them wanted to bother with him, so yours truly, Bob Crespo, got the assignment. And I'm proud to say that I was able to put the screws to old Dumbya and get him to reveal a bit of himself. It wasn't all that hard, truth be told. I just got him drunk and let fly. The man can't hold his bourbon any better than he can hold a coherent thought. Here's the interview:

BC: "Thank you for sitting down with bobcrespo.com, Mr. President."

GWB: "No Problemo, Bobo. Mind if I call ya Bobo?"

BC: "Not at all sir. Care for drink? I've got some George Dickel #12"

GWB: "Hell yeah! Most folks think I don't drink no more, but this presidentin' is tough, let me tell ya! Without the booze it'd be impossible!"

BC: "Well,with all due respect, sir there are those that say it was impossible for you from the get-go."

GWB: "They think they coulda done better? Maybe they shoulda stole some elections, then! It's easy bein' a back seat president!"

BC: "Mr. President, what do you say to people who call you our worst president ever?"

GWB: "Lick my cowboy boots! They're just drinking sour grape juice, Bobo. Besides, they're not real Americans, just bunch of sissified punks!"

BC: "Eighty percent of the nation, sir?"

GWB: "So what? The other half loves me, the good half!"

BC: "I take it mathematics isn't your strong suit."

GWB: "I got people to do the cipherin' for me, Bobo. The president ain't got no time for that geek stuff. They feed me the info, and I do the decideratin'."

BC: "Well, Mr. President, your decision making process has a lot of us scratching our heads. For example, one is hard pressed to find any other instance of a president attacking the wrong country."

GWB: "Well, I got it right the second time! Once we found out Afghanistan had no damned oil, well, we needed another place to fight the turrists'. Iraq was perfect, and beside, nobody liked that Sadam guy."

BC: "But Iraq is the nation I was referring to, the wrong country to attack, whether or not anybody approved of Sadam Hussein. They never attacked America, nor did they have those weapons of mass destruction you and your people talked about."

GWB: "Wrong country, hell! Do you have any idea how much oil we sucked outta there? 'Course you don't, that's classified. But just let me tell you, Bobo, that Iraq was the perfect nation to attack. A lousy army, flat terrain with no pesky mountain passes and caves, a buncha people livin' there who hated each other, a real rootin-tootin' outlaw for a dictator and all the oil you could ask for, only we didn't have to ask, not when you've got your army there kickin' serious camel jockey butt. A public relations dream, son..."

BC: "Public relations, Mr. President? What does good or bad PR have to do with sending our soldiers to war? Either a nation is an enemy or not."

GWB: "Now who's being foolish? A country's an enemy when the Deciderator says it's an enemy! You think Rove woulda been able to steal my second election with our army bogged down in the Afghanistan Alps?"

BC: "That would be the White Mountains, sir. Or the Safed Koh as they are called over there."

GWB: "I don't care if them damned mountains is turquoise or called the Larrry and Moe, they're damned tricky for fightin' wars! You're startin' to sound like Condi Rice, boy. Pour me another stiff one, willya, Bobo..."

BC: "Okay, let's move on from the wars, sir. Let's talk about the economy."

GWB: "Let me know when you're done, then. I don't do economy..."

BC: "Let me guess, you've got people who do that for you..."

GWB: "Got that right, Bobo! Ain't nuthin' more borin' that gettin' briefed by them numbers geeks. They give me the creeps, I swear."

BC: "But isn't the president supposed to suck it up do the reading and learn all about complicated matters affecting the welfare of his citizens?"

GWB: "Don't get me started about welfare! That's for corporations, not lazy bums! And I got people to do my readin' for me too!"

BC: "Any of them ever read you the Constitution? The Bill of Rights, maybe?"

GWB: "I didn't become the president of 1776, Bobo! Those documents are old, I tell ya, real old! Who's to say what's "unreasonable" nowadays, or "inalienable?" Like those powdered wig boys ever heard of space aliens or played any decent video games. Buncha sissies, if you ask me."

BC: "Our Founding Fathers?"

GWB: "They're the ones who got us into this mess in the first place with all those sissy rights and checks and balances! They made this job one pain in the butt for a Deciderator like myself. Hey, if I wanna read your damned e-mails, I'm gonna read 'em! Well, not me personally, I never did get the hang of them computer gizmos, you see, but you now what I'm gettin' at. I don't need no Congress or Supreme Court stickin' their noses into America's business."

BC: "But America's business is what the Congress and Supreme Court were created to handle."

GWB: "Than what do I got Dick Cheney for? He does just fine runnin' things without askin' no Congress dopes and old fools in silly robes!"

BC: "So Dick Cheney runs things?"

GWB: "Hell, yeah! He handles all the nitty gritty stuff I got no time for. And he's doin' a hell of job, lemme tell ya. All those machine parts we installed in him were well worth it."

BC: "Machine parts, sir?"

GWB: "Well, that's supposed to be a secret, but what the hell, we're almost outta here! Old Dick's got more replacement parts than a '62 Chevy, and not just his nuclear powered heart, either. He's got a steel hand, one fiberglass lung, a couple of microchips in his brain that allow him to intercept electronic messages and a laser shootin' eyeball. That lawyer he shot in the face was lucky old Dick didn't crush him with his steel hand or toast him with that laser eye! I seen 'em do that to a couple of people just for fun, and believe me, that ain't a pretty sight!"

BC: "The Vice President is a cyborg?"

GWB: "Pretty cool, huh? Why do you think Tony Blair never crossed us? Dick threatened to toast the queen with the laser eye and Blair was scared shitless to have that retarded fool Prince Charles as their king. That horseface thinks bein' king is on the level and would want to be in charge."

BC: "Sort of like your presidency?"

GWB: "Exactly. I let old Dick do the dirty work and I take the credit. Works for me."

BC: "That's not how the presidency is supposed to work, sir."

GWB: "Well, when you become president, you can do what you want to do. Me? I'm happy with this arrangement. I'm kinda prone to headaches when the subject matter gets complicated."

BC: "Like more complex than clearing brush?"

GWB: "I'm a whiz at that! Got any brush in the backyard you need cleared? I'm your man!"

BC: "Can't say as I do. Not much tumbleweed in Brooklyn, Mr. President."

GWB: "That's too bad. Nothin' like gettin' a snootful of bourbon and crankin' up the old chain saw!"

BC: "I'm starting to see why Mr. Cheney has so may responsibilities."

GWB: "Better him than me. I can't help it if he didn't get to be president and have so many days off and get other people to do the hard stuff. But I did, and I got a whole lotta people to tackle the brain-bustin' chores. What good is it to be the boss if you're also the hoss? Know what I mean?"

BC: "I think I'm getting the picture, Mr. President. Any plans for your retirement?"

GWB: "How does 'Deciderator Brush Clearing Service" grab you? Texas is a big place, Bobo, and just teemin' with tangled brush! I figure to clean up, in more ways than one, if you get my drift."

BC: "I believe I do sir, and I wish you the best of luck in your new business."

GWB: "I'll drink to that! Pour me another stiff one for the road, Bobo!"

And that was that. We finished the bottle of bourbon and the Secret Service guys carried the president out to his limousine. He did leave me a souvenir of our visit, though, but one I have second thoughts about keeping. He gave me one of the dried fingers of Sadam Hussein on a key chain with the Presidential Seal, sort of like a rabbit's foot, saying there's nine more where that came from. It's kind of creepy when you reach into your pocket for the car keys so I think I'll get rid of it. But anyway, there it is, the groundbreaking first-ever web interview with a suiting president, even if it was with The Worst American President Ever And Into The Future. That's something, at least, right? Right?