another notch

a super man?

now that's a trophy. i bet grandmama barbara would have the S-suit and cape stuffed and mounted for her big bushie game hunter number-one son, boy george the serial K -- not just another frosted flake's -- oval office wall. if she could.

he has plenty of trophies already, plenty of notches in his golf club. and the trophies continue to pile up daily. the bushie body-count should be hefty, "at the end of the day," as they say. if he gets re-elected then he can continue to add krypto-juice to the killing machine for an extra four years.

shrubby had no choice really.

those stem cells were beginning to take root with superman's super-help. every evangelistic anything knows the bushies can't have super-stems with roots clogging the garden of dna. that just wouldn't work.

it's too big of a chance those possibly helpful stems might escape from the garden of evil. no more goodness needed thank you.

especially when he just got the first garden -- the first paradise over in iraq -- back to it's volcanic, boiling, useful-only-for-cooking, condition.

now there's some balance, more chaos on both sides of the world. keep it goin' bushie boy. no more superman to push us around.

i'm bored. let's go chop down a rain forest.

RIP
Christopher Reeve.