1.20.09 -- At Last!!

Maureen Dowd, who is to literacy what phone sex is to oratory, should have appealed to Barack Obama for the position of Inaugural Poet. In "Let Me Tell You AGAIN How Much I Hate George W. Bush," (originally printed under the title, "It's All About Meeee!") Ms. Dowd ingratiates herself -- again -- to her fellow patients in the Bush Derangement Syndrome psych ward (at the New York Times, with branches in nearly every newsroom in America); in her always imitable way (see?), Ms. Dowd concludes her vexatious review of President Bush's flight out of Washington during the Feast of the Immaculate Election† from her seat in the Day Room, and hardly a more poetic review could be made (permit me to structure Ms. Dowd's fine work in a less prosaic form):

...the cram of people
sparked warmth rather than antsiness.

Strollers laughed
as a peddler in a Rasta hat
hawked his “Barack Obama incense.”
And revelers stepped up to a spot
where you could pick out a
colored
magic marker
and complete posters that began,
“Mr. President, I hope for ...”
Entries ranged from “burning less oil”
to “healthcare for all”
to “a cure for cancer”
to this lofty
and entirely understandable
sentiment:
“a sick inauguration party.”

Exactly, Ms. Dowd. A sick party indeed.

(I do love those laughing strollers.)

See how easy this is, Ms. Dowd?


Peace through dissent.

BG

PS. If you love to have fun with Ms. Dowd, then you'll love this.

†Unfortunately, I cannot take credit for the "Feast of the Immaculate Election." Boston talk-radio host Jay Severin used it on Monday; apparently it originates from an episode of the very funny but short-lived TV show, "Arrested Development."

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