Exploding International, The Scenes, The Sounds

They got a crazy-ass wingding going down in New York this week, and I’m not talking about Fashion Week. Every leader on this planet (and a few others, I’m told) has been shooting the shit over at the UN. I haven’t personally been privy to the deliberations, (they can beg and beg, but there’s no way in hell I’m going east of Lex), but I’m pretty sure they’re doing nothing less than saving the world.

Take this, for example. The President of the United States, noted statesman, esteemed intellectual, and highly regarded leader of the free world, passes a note (do you like how they only give him a #2 pencil? Not even one of them fancypants Office of the President pens?) to his secretary of state, or as Bush calls her - The RZA.

As you can see, and as Editor & Publisher writes, the president needs to take a shit. But the thing is, none of this is fair. We’re laughing and thinking – that Bush, he’s such a dope. He’s bored; he’s scribbling notes; he’s not paying any attention. Hell, his translator earpiece is probably playing SpongeBob cartoons. Why didn’t we just send a cardboard cutout and a ham sandwich? That’s what people are going to be thinking.

But not me. I know him. I know that his mind is a steel trap. Forever two, three steps ahead of mere mortals like you and me and Steven Seagal. As you can see, he’s asking if he may please go to the bathroom. But under that he’s written, “Do you think it would be possible…” And therein lies his master strategy – Do you think it would be possible to drop a fat load on Iran’s desk? Further investigation might reveal that President Bush had three bran muffins in the limo on the way to the party and has made numerous trips to the coffee cart since the meeting started. You see? The man has been planning “Operation Fecal Freedom” for weeks now.

The guy’s like fucking Yoda of Realpolitik! Can we, for the love of God, eliminate term limits??