Ask Mrs. Vera: Can George W. Bush rehabilitate himself?

Dear Mrs. Vera,

I’ve been busy trying to keep my family alive and in a house for so long, I’ve forgotten why everyone hates George W. Bush!  Except, you know, those swell people he knew and changed laws and regulations for, so that they could make so much money that I almost don’t even recognize us as members of the same species any more. Not that I’ve ever crossed paths, mind you, with these wonderful, magical beings at any of the jobs I must work, or on Saturday nights, right before midnight, when we all go to the Tick Tock Expiration Countdown Bargain Discount Grocers™ under the overpass next to Big Sugar’s And Li’l Sharkys Bank And Loan™ to bid on food that was legally saleable when we bought it, even if it isn’t any longer by the time we get home with it.  Is he presently incarcerated for war crimes, painting himself naked to keep busy, helping out the unfortunate he once helped to become so unfortunate, or is he up to something else these days? My enraged, really well-off brother-in-law says Bush got a bum rap, but W. doesn’t strike me as a spa kind of guy. Can you tell me anything to help fill up the parts of my brain that are lousy with voids whenever anything related to him gets stuck in my head and just swirls around and around until I get this panicky feeling that it might overflow?  I have enough stress in my life already without that!

Thanks again for the spare change and blankets and the single shoe,

Paul V. Tyfordiff

Mrs. Vera, with cuttlery.

Mrs. Vera Newman,
San Francisco, California.
Photo: VInc LeVinc

Dear Poverty Foodwhiff,

Oh, my, the things George W. has been up to recently – my stars, where to begin! So many, many, many great undertakings (well there must be some, I’m sure!) since that big boat he was President of sunk while he spun the spokey wheel til it broke off and crushed all those lower percentiles of our country unlucky enough to be in America when he didn’t go down with the ship. Let me do some zippy research, to be as up to date as possible on his activities since he slipped out, unnoticed, of the burning building he left the nation unattended in, right before President Obama got elected all on his own, by people who actually cast their votes to elect him.

Gosh, that didn’t take long at all! Apparently, he has done three things since leaving office, which is more than two things more than zero things, so he’s got that going for him at the least. Or the most, if you are keeping track, like I do with how many people Laura Bush has killed with her car. Still just one (confirmed), BTW!

One thing George W. Bush has done tirelessly, for anyone who can pay his hefty speaker’s fee, is agree to talk about how right and good he all his policies were, whatever they were, to anyone who gets off on hearing all about that kind of superly-dupered marvelousness of impressivity of his solid legacy-wegacy chicken-a-leg-I-see political achievements, or any other types of nonsense that some otherwise soulless, sociopathic corporate leaders find appealing, as it helps them sleep better at night, especially if they happen to have any adult children who are part of the regular America normal people still live in, like so many embarrassing disappointments of genetically related failures of economic purity, along with their grandkids.

Well, you aren’t quite as out of date as the meal you just finished (fingers crossed), or Barbara Bush’s lingerie (arms and legs crossed!), and you will be happy to learn that, off-puttingly, painting portraits of himself in the nude is the second thing President Bush has done since leaving office and taking up full-time lurking about 7-11™s in Crawford, Texas, eating Slim Jims™ and drinking Yoo-Hoo™, mostly, since he’s no longer allowed to play with the microwave.

Additionally, he went to TaHaiti for a photo op, to pose with the natives and their proud rubble, spread cholera, try their tacos and practice his serious face, which he knows is just as good as Clinton’s, if less Sax-y. Bush’s jokes might even be a bit more Hillaryous, if you are willing to count Justice Alito as a bawdy limerick about a Judge doing it in a Lobby until his constitution flags, which I, for the record, do not find in the least bit humorous, though I can imagine exactly what that would smell like, so it’s probably a good thing (for Alito anyway) that nobody has to vote for him to keep that job.

Now it seems W., like a mentally challenged Cicada, has returned before expected, because after all, 17 years is a big number even if it is a fraction, probably.  Frankly, news of his Currant Tour  to rehabilitate his image surprised me somewhat, as many people associate currants with raisins, and are likely to become depressed just thinking about the international crisis of being obliged to guardedly eat one of them-there foreign pastries that contain them, and somehow manage to do it without barfing on some really old suit dude, or some bearded sourpuss/crabby Diplominister of Wheresitatistan, or whatever. Additionally, the public’s perception of the whole currant-raisin-grape-dry drunk-rehab deal is going to be as hard to shake as the shakes themselves were, or Laura is, especially when she’s just pretending to be asleep, or has actually passed out from huffing one of her Lysol™-soaked library books she never gets around to donating, or even returning, to the library. They are even, apparently, going to open their very own library, just so that future scholars can study the impact of Laura’s freaky-weird addiction to Lysol™ on public policy and book rot.

I apologize if I’ve misrepresented W.’s present activities because of my selective dislikesia, I’m forever seeing things like words, train-murderers in between stations, and Presidents that weren’t really there.  Nothing would please me more than to discover that his current rehab tour’s actual main focus was simply on him getting high by licking electrical outlets, instead of booze or drugs, in front of anyone willing to pay a lot to watch, like some kind of hoighty-toighty down-home millionaire regular-guy-sharing-a-beer-but-not-in-fact-drinking-with-you cowboy circus sideshow ex-President geek.

Step right up Ladies and Gentlemen, to see an act so hard to believe that you know it could only happen once in recorded history, and even then, not without the intervention of the Supreme Court.


Vera with toys and greensMrs. Vera Newman is a San Francisco absurdist character, humorist, artist, writer, community organizer, clothes horse and co-founder, with Mister Tina, of The Verasphere. She has been answering the unasked questions she receives from the lonely, empty rooms of America’s heart-shaped circulatory pump room ever since it began beating. Nestled in the politically bent bowels of the Nation since she was a young girl babysitting the very same newborn Nation, her ability to self-reflect about anyone else’s embarrassing shortcomings, inept fumblings or lousy recipes has enabled her invisible rise as a modern-day Cassandra, whatever that means. Feel free to dispose of all your worries by leaving them on her doorstep!