(I wrote this for a creative writing class that I’m in right now. I figured it’d be nice to post here since I haven’t written anything here in a while, and because it’s something totally different. Hope you enjoy.)
The following is an advance excerpt from Decision Points, the upcoming memoir by George W. Bush, in which the former US president attempts to explain his reasons and motivations behind several of the most significant and controversial aspects of his presidency. The full text is slated for release sometime in 2010. However, the publisher, in order to garner press coverage for the book, has decided to release this passage to the public, in which Bush gives consideration to what he claims is the most important decision he had to make in regards to his tenure as president.
You know, it’s an odd thing. I’ll admit that. But that’s why I’m writing this book.
I am, of course, referring to quite possibly the biggest decision I had to make in regards to my presidency: the decision to write this book in regards to my presidency. Don’t get me wrong—the money’s awesome. I love it. Have you ever smoked a pipe packed with a hundred-dollar bill? It’s not quite the buzz I got during my old cocaine binges, but the stench is strong enough to make Laura leave the room. In fact, I’d say that over the course of writing this book, I probably smoked about $54,000 dollars. And that’s not even counting the price of the pipe itself! Hah!
The decision to write this book was a very weighty one to make. I knew my presidency was controversial, to say the least, but I’ll be honest: I didn’t know if I really wanted to reveal my secrets. I don’t know if I’ve ever told anyone this before, but I kind of see myself as a bit of a magician. I always liked that analogy. Whenever I was in the Pentagon, I’d refer to myself as George the Magnificent. It sure would explain how that Clinton surplus disappeared before the end of my first term.
Speaking of Clinton, and I hate to go off on a tangent here: did you know that Bill Clinton is a MAJOR douchebag? Allow me to explain: the first day I went into the Oval Office in January 2001 following my election victory, President Clinton left an official note addressed to me. All of the presidents do that, by the way. When the new guy comes in, the old guy leaves a note of advice or well-wishing as a sign of diplomacy. (Here’s what my note said to my successor, Barack Obama: “Hey Obama, stay cool and don’t ever change! Have a great summer! Oh, and please don’t look in the Library of Congress for that top-secret document explaining my plans to fuck up everything during my eight PLANNED years as president. They don’t have any copies in stock. Booya! Signed, The Bushster.”) And can you believe what that retarded ape Clinton wrote to me? This is exactly what he said: “I hate you, and I hate your father for giving us you. Don’t fuck up everything. Oh, and I would NOT have sexual relations with your woman. Dear God in Heaven, she’s homely. Good luck and go fuck yourself! Signed, William J. (the J stands for Jefferson, a man smarter than your stump of a family tree ever will be) Clinton.”
Unbelievable. He sure showed a lot of nerve, but I sure showed him in the end. I admit that I did fuck up everything, but I will go on record saying that it was entirely out of spite towards what Clinton said to me. If he hadn’t have written that, we’d all be sleeping in solid gold houses on pillows made from bald eagle feathers. So for all of you people who hate me for driving the infrastructure of our country into the ground, all I have to say is: blame Clinton.
However, I still realize that my presidency, regardless of the motivations behind it, was mired in controversy. Because of that, I highly contemplated just getting away from everything after I left the White House. I thought about moving to Montana, where, for miles and miles, all you ever see are crazy bastards and bears. I’m not saying I’d fit right in, but I’d fit right in. I thought I’d enjoy living amongst the wilderness, but then I remembered that I love cutting brush down, so I backed off the idea for a while. On the other hand, Montana probably had TONS of brush to be cut down. Besides, it’s not like people would care—it’s just Montana, and nobody pays attention to the crazy bastards anyway. Eventually, I realized that I was happy enough back in Texas, so that’s where I ended up. Plus, bears scare the living FUCK out of me…
To be continued…
Until next time,