Sominex for Simpletons

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Aw, poor little George. La Petite Potentate may be having trouble sleeping. Apparently, there’s a pea under the Princeling’s mattress.

Of course this is big news. He seems to have been asleep for most of the past six years and now he needs a Sominex. Just look what it took to wake the Snoozer-in-Chief up:

Katrina? Snoozeville.

Iraq? Yawn.

Iraq again? Perhaps a little nappie.

Complete incompetence at nearly everything he’s tried? Well, you get the point.

The Crapweasel’s confidantes seem to think the weight of the world has finally roosted on his shoulder like a dead parrot. It’s no wonder. Pretty much everyone except Laura and Barney have run as far away as possible, and I hear even Barney is plotting with Laura for a big breakout.

It’s doomed to failure though. The Twins are reportedly the brains of the outfit.

When someone becomes a world-class loser, I generally have some empathy for them. Being oblivious is a curse on a personal scale, but being oblivious on a grand scale is criminal. This man has worked so hard at proving to the world and his daddy that he is right – while being proven repeatedly wrong – that it’s impossible for me to find the tiniest shred of sympathy. After all, this is a man who once bragged about being clueless to the day’s news. Judging from his record, I suspect this may be the only truth he’s ever told.

I find it inconceivable that the man possesses enough hubris that he’s willing to disregard the counsel of several blue-ribbon committees, the other two branches of government, many of his generals, 75% of the US people, and most of the governments in the world (except perhaps his indispensible ally Poland). What’s even more inconceivable is that this causes only a mild case of insomnia balanced against the permanent sleep he’s induced in so many.

Having grown up in the tumultuous 1960s, I don’t relish the thought of mobs taking to the streets. The damage inflicted is still festering four decades later. We’re hugging enough anchors as we swim upstream into this new century, we don’t need more. But the emperor seems hell-bent on making it a dead-certain prospect. His “let them eat cake” mentality is worse than headless Marie’s. He insists on not only serving the cake, but mashing our nose in it like a boorish couple at a drunken wedding.

So here’s my plan. We should have a national telethon – Sominex for the Simpleton. I say we take up a collection and buy an inexhaustible supply of the stuff to keep him asleep for the next two years. Remember, the only thing worse than a Bush asleep is a Bush awake and mucking things up.

Sleep well fair Prince. Sleep well.

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