Shut Up Prairie Boy!

The call to impeach the president has gotten out of control. Bush’s historically low disapproval ratings are like blood in the water and the liberals are chasing it down like sharks. It’s gaining that sharp, derisive edge of the self-satisfied and self-righteous zealot who so desperately needs to scream We’ve got him now!

And to fan this flame, low-key comic genius, Garrison Keillor, has penned an elegant and angry letter calling for the impeachment of the current president. This is a letter from someone with pull, with a market share, someone who could be the beloved voice of the liberal left if he wanted. He lends the idea intellectual merit. Authority.

As much as I hate to disagree with someone as intellectually gifted as GK, and as much as I hate to play the paranoiac, I must respectfully say to all the Democrats and Liberals and Indies out there buying magic markers and signboards and thumbing through their thesaurus for words that rhyme with “peach”: SHUT THE FUCK UP!

As a freak liberal democrat, I have had more than enough cause in the last six years to just blow my brains out in exasperation. Our current GOP is measurably the worst ever. They are clearly, provably, a tight-lipped mean-spirited bunch of evil rapacious bastards who have gleefully trampled on the hard-earned rights and ruined the future of all Americans. I hate them with the kind of seething, distilled, malevolent, rankled scorn one usually reserves for child molesters and kitty-cat killers. I wish them the greatest dark individual ills I can imagine and I do hope each and every person in the GOP who has so maligned the dignity of this country spends the rest of their life ridiculed so openly and with such vehemence that they can’t even shop publicly for the gallon of rancid vinegar they should be required to drink daily without getting egged.

But impeach Bush? Are you fucking nuts? Do you remember who the Vice President is? Impeaching Bush means handing the government over to Cheney.

Unless my rudimentary civics education fails me, the rules keeping a lame-duck President from running for a third term don’t mean squat to the veep. He can run. And he will.

And let me be clear here. When I say the veep will “run” I mean he will stomp. He will trample. He will clomp, strut, march, goose-step, and pimp stroll all over our rights. It’s bad enough we’ve had to put up with a staggering, half retarded senator’s son lighting his cigar with the bill of rights. Imagine the carnage someone as calculated, intelligent, and joyfully evil as Cheney would leave in his wake. Imagine Hurricane Katrina as a national defense program.

And you can believe that all the neocons who so recently were glutted with gloat, who are today are steadfastly avoiding eye contact and breaking lunch dates with their Democratic pals, will come slithering out from under their media-shame and re-elect Cheney as if he’s the resurrection of John Wayne and Jesus H. Christ. You think a roomful of mad republicans shouting “4 more years!” was scary in the last stolen election? Impeach Bush and it’ll be the same people—-in riot gear, carrying batons, burning the bill of rights in the streets.

THINK!