Just for the record, if none of this makes any sense, it's because I have the swine flu. I haven't been to the doctor or anything like that and I haven't been diagnosed, but I'm 99 percent sure I have it.
It's either that or a reaction to bleaching my bathroom. Whatever it is, I am really dizzy and can't think straight.
Please, no comments on that last statement.
The reason I know I'm deliriously ill is that I had a moment yesterday when I thought I kind of liked George W. Bush. It just occurred to me for some reason that he is being a really decent ex-president by staying quiet and just hanging out down in Texas and not mugging all over the place for the media like his partner-in-crime Dick Cheney, who, even out of office, remains the scariest human being on the planet. He's just evil and I hope his book ... Oh, never mind. I promised I wouldn't acknowledge his existence anymore because life is too short to be thinking about him, especially when I have swine flu. But George seems to be taking the high road and not butting into anyone's business since leaving office and that is very commendable. If he really bought all that land down in Paraguay so he could retire without being extradited back to the United States to be charged with war crimes, at least he's being quiet about it and not writing a book about all the good aspects of torture.
And speaking of books, I'm not much for tell-alls, but I wouldn't mind skimming through Matt Latimer's new saga about the years he spent as one of Bush's speech writers. I don't think I would ever in a million years let anyone know that I wrote the speeches Bush gave, but Latimer probably does have some good stories. I hope that what emerges is that W. wasn't the monster he seemed to be and that he was just a puppet who had the misfortune of being lied to by that man whose name I won't write again. As soon as this swine flu subsides, I might try to get a copy of the book to find out if it's true George really wasn't against gay marriage.
Okay, now I feel like little lightning bolts are racing back and forth across my head. I hope it's just the swine flu and not something more serious, because I really am digging this vibe (did I just write "digging this vibe"?) of not hating on Bush. It feels good. It's kind of liberating. I was so mad at him for eight years that I feel like a weight has been lifted by not being mad at him now. Unlike so many of the other rednecks out there who are afraid to let their children listen to Barack Obama speak (I still haven't gotten over that one), I haven't heard about George W. saying anything derogatory about him. He could have and I just missed it, but at least he isn't making the talk-show rounds, like you know who. Oh, and speaking of not hating and the talk-show rounds, I also had a warm and fuzzy feeling the other day for Rush Limbaugh. I've never once watched him on television or listened to him on the radio, but when I heard his remark about how the only planet Barney Frank was ever around was Uranus, I couldn't help but fall out laughing.
Okay, now I'm not even sure if I can smoke a cigarette, so this swine flu is definitely getting worse. I want to go down to the ranch and hang out with George W. Bush. I really do. Especially if he's back on the sauce, because I bet with a few stiff ones under his belt, he is hilarious. I want to shoot pool with him in a dive bar with country music playing and unattractive people dancing way too late into the night. All of a sudden, his beady eyes look to me like they have some playfulness behind them. I hope he cheats at pool and buys everybody a lot of drinks. I want to hear him tell fart jokes. I want to see him balance a beer mug on his head. I want him to give me a noogy on my bald head and then drive me around in a pick-up truck and moon people. I want to write any future speeches he may be asked to give and get him to end every sentence with " ... and Dick Cheney didn't tell me to say that!" Oops, there's that name again. Sorry.
Okay, the hallucinations are starting. I now like George W. Bush. I'm not even sure if I want to be vaccinated. George, if you read this, call me. Don't text me, Facebook me, or tweet me. Just give me a good, old-fashioned telephone call and let's hang out. But you have to buy.