San Diego, United States

…forever dyslexic one word less is one word more…design follows the eye before the shape shifts into form…when two...

George W. Bush and the Busharoos.

Dear Journal:
There is something about the office of the Presidency of the United States that conjures up….well it kinda escapes me this time….I watched a video after a chance conversation with someone I just met, and probably will never see again, a happing happenstance about our lame ducky duckie duck President it seems old King Dubya Debacle was attending a “happening” one of his first and last singing debuts, here are the lyrics imagine that old homily of a chestnut song with a home down Texas Americana twang “Green Green Grass of Home” as sung by George Bush and the Busharoos:
“And there to meet me is my mama and my papa, down the Iane I look and here comes Barney, heart of gold and breath like honey; it’s good to touch the brown brown grass of home.
For there’s Condi and Dick, my old compadre, talking to me about some oil rich Saudi, but soon I’ll touch the brown brown grass of home.
That old White house is behind me, I am once again carefree, don’t have to worry ‘bout a crisis in Pyongyang. Down the lane I look, Dick Chaney is strolling with documents he’d been withholding; it’s good to touch the brown brown grass of home.
Yes, you’re all going to miss me, the way you used to quiz me, but soon I’ll touch the brown, brown grass of home."
Yes a swan song from the head goose stepping goose master put that in your chuckle bucket and hear him hum….Do you know the way to Crawfordsville(?)….or “If I only had a brain.”

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