White spittle collects at the corners of his mouth. I watch as Harriet (Ozzie’s wife) enters stage left and launches into a blistering round of obscenity laden phraseside bombs. The woman is ruthless. Fascinating word, isn’t it? Ruthless. The absence of Ruth. No wonder her name is Harriet.

Somehow, I have gotten myself caught on the wrong side of George’s tracks. Tracks? I wonder. Does he boot that stuff? Perhaps I should never have accused Bush as I did. “De l’essence emmerdant les enfants du mort” is a serious federal offense. I can’t prove he did it, but no one here can disprove it, either. Who knows what the man does in his spare time? I have often wondered. Does he construct model airplanes? That might explain the dopey expression. Check it out sometime - take a good look at his eyes; you’ll see a small blinking sign that says “Vacancy.” Maybe he dressed in women’s lingerie and cavorted about the White House at 3:00 am with Michael Jackson. Would it be inconceivable that he engaged in...no, I can’t say it. But with Sarah Palin? Maybe she made him lick her feet. Maybe...oh! The second act is about to begin. Be quiet!