As anyone can see, our president has been doing “hard work” for the American people, and sometimes just needs to take a little vacation, oh, about 10 times a year, at least. His favorite place to go, as we all know, is the dusty, sun-baked town of Crawford, Texas, where all he does to relieve the pent-up stress from all the “hard work,” we’re told, is clear brush—for 2 to 5 weeks at a shot—so I figure that by now he must have cleared away an area big enough to build a small strip mall or host the “Crawford Cowboy Games.” The “Crawford Cowboy Games,” as you are probably unaware, are a series of events, mostly competitive, created for the purpose of keeping George W. occupied, so “Uncle Dick” Cheney can concentrate on running the government. The games are held at W’s ranch, the “Lyin’ W,” and they allow the leader of the free world to do much more than simply clear brush.
Some of the games are actually skits, but whether they are dramatic or competitive, they must all have the quality of being able to hold the president’s attention span, which is rumored to be somewhere between a Jack Russell’s and a Border Collie’s. The first event is always humorous and, in fact, is usually the same one each time, except for the interruption of the circus coming through town in 2002, when W pitched a fit till they took him. The skit consists of some of the staff acting out the campfire scene from “Blazing Saddles,” with Lewis “Scooter” Libby having the biggest role. Libby has, to his credit, always taken his part very seriously, assuming the sobriquet, Lewis “Scooter the Poohter Libby’s Pork ‘n Beans” Libby. The president usually then yells out some trenchantly comedic remark, not disappointing this year with his, “Hey, Poohter, you better stay away from that fire. Talk about your WMD!”
The events/scenes always have a western flavor, of course, and another favorite is a shoot-out in which Andrew “Bottom” Card is caught cheating W in a card game and the commander-in-chief gets to challenge the “low down varmint” to a duel, using his prized line, “Bring it on,” which naturally gets him pretty hopped up. But instead of six shooters at 20 paces, it’s a quick-draw bird-flipping contest, with thinner being the one who can not only flip the bird from a hand-at-the-side position, but also the first to retract his middle finger. W always wins this easily, which is no surprise to those of us who say him exercise this skill on reporters on TV, then modestly deny it through Scott McClelland.
Another of W’s favorite scenes is Jack Palance’s Academy Award acceptance for his supporting role in “City Slickers.” Initially, they couldn’t find a staffer who could match Palance’s raw masculinity, but eventually it was Karen Hughes to W’s rescue again, plus she was the only who could do a push-up, much less a one-handed one.
Of course, W is dressed in a cowboy outfit the entire time he’s at the ranch, including an enormous 10 gallon hat that he insists on wearing even when he rides his bike. This has, unfortunately, led to his falling off, even more than usual, and it is the reason that Karl Rove (“Rover the Drover”) must run alongside, yelling, “Get along, little Georgie!” As W likes to quip, “Old Karl sure make for a nice, soft landing.”
Donald “Ropin’ Rummy” Rumsfeld, to W’s delight, always wins the Homespun Epithet contest with his bottomless repertoire of barnyard billingsgate. W has been known to stand up and clap enthusiastically when Rummy unearths such ear-scorchers as “kit and caboodle,” “gall durnit,” “jumpin’ jiminy,” “Jehosaphat,” and Jeff Gannon’s favorite, “by crackie!” The only downside to the game is that every year someone has to explain to W what the word “epithet” means.
A few very special outsiders are invited and, of course, are sworn to secrecy. One of a very small number of regular returnees is “Cowboy” Tom Delay “who can always be counted on to perform his crowd-pleasing ‘Lobbyist-ropin’ act.”
He may have actually been topped by this month’s invitee, Bob “Bullsh*t” Novak, who, along with Karl Rove, appeared as the two-headed “Scourge of the Democrats,” “Ro-vak.”
Scott McClelland’s special guest, Jeff Gannon, wowed the Neocons this year with his “Rough-and-ready Calf-ropin’” contest, which entails Jeff, as a leather-clad cowpoke lassoing scantily-clad buckaroos by their calves, then branding them as his “Bunk House Buddies.” This somewhat risqué spectacle, even by liberal standards, prompted a nonplussed W to ask, “Uncle Dick, suppose the liberal media find out about this?” He was immediate placated by Cheney’s crooked-mouthed reply, “Son, what goes on in Crawford, stays in Crawford.”
Each year, the festivities wind down with an excited but weary W appearing as George “Walker, Texas Ranger Bush,” who proceeds to Karate kick sand-stuffed dummies of enemies list personalities such as Michael Moore and Jon Stewart. Inevitably, he gets a little too rambunctious, and almost always ends up running around frenetically doing air kicks and shouting, “I’m gonna hunt you down, Osama. You wanted dead or alive. Gonna smoke you out!” “Watch out, cowboy boots on the ground.” This year, he boldly added, “Well, I think I’m gonna go home and saddle up Laura, heh, heh, heh.” Which prompted the games abript but typical demise as W was sent screaming into “41’s” comforting lap by the family’s “Boss of all Bosses – Ma Bush” (Also referred to secretly by her grandchildren as W as in Washington, George that is.) as she scolds, “Little George, shut up and drink your sarsaparilla. It’s time to play Commander-in-chief again. Put on your flight suit. Uncle Dick needs a rest.”
W (whiningly): “Aw, gee, Ma, that’s hard work.”
