What was that about compassion?

Decades and centuries from now, historians will likely look back on President George W. Bush as that guy who lived in the White House for eight years after President Bill Clinton left office and before President Wesley Clark (Russ Feingold? Hillary Clinton? Bueller?) moved in, much as former Senator Strom Thurmond’s lifetime is now viewed as the span of time between the end of the Mesozoic Era and the beginning of the 21st Century.

For now, though, President Inept W. Motherfucker is our leader, a figurehead wrapped in low approval ratings wrapped in vacant platitudes wrapped in a tan. As we have mentioned in two recent posts, Bush apologists and others- including Bush himself- have proclaimed that now is not the time to “play politics.”

Who’s playing? Who the fuck is playing?

Questioning this nation’s leadership as to its quality, force, and mere presence is NOT “playing politics.” It is right and it is necessary and it is a fundamental responsibility of the American people to ask where the hell our top officials have been for the last week. The only thing more necessary and patriotic right now is for all of us to send as much aid and offer as much support as possible in the overwhelming face of Katrina’s demoralizing aftermath. From each according to his or her ability and to each person affected by this tragedy, because they are the ones who need the comfort, the assistance; not the gas companies, not the other big businesses and special interests, and sure as shit not anybody directly connected to the weak-ass efforts of this embarrassing administration.

Interspersed among the crushing reports from the Gulf Coast in the last couple of days have been clips and sound bites of local, state, and federal officials offering their gratitude- sometimes in glowing terms- to FEMA and the Homeland Security Department and President Bush and others for the work they are doing to help all those in need. And yes, the rescue workers and people in the trenches are no doubt performing countless heroic deeds as I write this. Those people are deserving of no less praise than were the firefighters and police officers and paramedics and other rescue personnel who gave their time, efforts, and lives on September 11, 2001.

But to President Bush, Vice President Dick “Where the Fuck Am I? Are We Sure I’m Still Alive? Seriously” Cheney, The Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA), and especially Michael Chertoff and the abysmally-performing Homeland Security Department, I offer this message: you deserve no praise. Stop patting yourselves on the backs, you hideous, mind-fuckingly awful excuses for leaders. Protecting this country- all of it- is your job, your elected and appointed duty, and you didn’t fucking do it. Even if you had, okay, fine, we’d all be happy about it, but this is YOUR JOB. My job? I write a blog. My job is to be a smartass and take official government photos hilariously out of context. Your job? Protecting the United States. Your job is slightly- okay, far more important than my job. And clearly, your job is more difficult; after all, you jackasses are making my job unbelievably easy these days.

Chertoff, for one, should be fired. Now. He leads the Homeland Security Department, not the “Holy Shit, What Do We Do Now?” Department.

Incidentally, the Secretary of “Holy Shit, What Do We Do Now?”, Dr. Franklin Osgood, is reportedly under his bed with his blankie, pissing his pants at this hour. He is doing an outstanding job. Let’s give credit where credit is due.

But let’s get back to President Bush, who actually had the nutsack to say Friday that he was unsatisfied with the swiftness and thoroughness of the federal government’s response to Katrina. (Uh, who’s in charge of the government, Poindexter? Because if it’s Cheney or Rumsfeld or even Andy friggin’ Card, just tell us. We’ll understand. In fact, we were pretty sure it wasn’t you all along.) But of course, President Waffle Iron reversed course later in the day and defended the speed and magnitude of the federal government’s reaction on the Gulf Coast. This coming from a man who had inexplicably managed to build a reputation with Americans as a “straight shooter,” a man who “means what he says.” Like everything else attached to this compassionate construction of a man, that reputation is undeserved, carefully-orchestrated, and a total façade predicated on lies and a genuine disdain for the American people.

W stands for White House, White Man, White Pwiowities. White white white.

But still, we don’t envy George W. Bush, especially in days as desperate and unwieldy as these. After all, we have and must maintain the highest respect for the office of the President of the United States, even if the guy swiveling around in the chair at the desk in that office is about as worthy of the American Presidency as the night manager at your local Kinko’s. But the presidency commands respect, and for a few minutes each day as we watch him smirk and gesticulate his way through a prepared speech or that Holy Grail of his term, the unscripted public comment, even we at The Catchpenny can forget for a moment just how much of a doddering marionette he is and look on him with a hint of deference, even hope.

We want this president to do well, and we want this president to do good. He just hasn’t. To say the very, very least.

And while “touring” the ravaged Gulf Coast Friday (read: cruising over in a helicopter and kissing a couple of foreheads in staged photo ops), President George WTF Bush gave us another reason to pretend we’re Canadian.

He actually, seriously, said this:

We've got a lot of rebuilding to do. First, we're going to save lives and stabilize the situation. And then we're going to help these communities rebuild. The good news is -- and it's hard for some to see it now -- that out of this chaos is going to come a fantastic Gulf Coast, like it was before. Out of the rubbles of Trent Lott's house -- he's lost his entire house -- there's going to be a fantastic house. And I'm looking forward to sitting on the porch. (Laughter.)

We are sorry for the loss of Senator Lott’s house. But he owns two more houses. Also, as far as we know, neither he nor any of his loved ones were killed in the fucking hurricane.

Memo to President Bush: Give Michael Chertoff and FEMA Director Michael Brown their walking papers. And if you will not fire them, then you, George W. Bush, must resign. You should probably resign anyway, but you definitely should if you refuse to fire those two disgraces.

But you would never do that, of course, because that would be sending a bad message to Katrina's victims. That message? "You have been deeply, irrevocably wronged, and I, as the President of the United States, am accountable for those wrongs." Yep, truly a bad message to send.

To Congress: Just for good measure, I want articles of impeachment drawn up and on my desk by Monday. What else does Bush have to do (or not do, in this case) before the "I" word can be seriously discussed?

Oh, right; get a blowjob from an intern. That's what he would have to do.

And to you, dear reader: What say you?

P.S.: We'll get back to the jokes tomorrow; that is, if we're not busy actually filing for Canadian citizenship.