Goodbye, John Bolton

Another member of the Bush administration is gone and suddenly we can breathe easier. As much as I did not agree with Mr. Rumsfeld, I never felt that he was a despicable character. I believe John Bolton, in his persona as banshee of the UN, was. When it became clear that he was resigning, the UN told its staff to say nothing other than "No comment." Perhaps they feared there would be embarassing praise for Mr. Bolton. John Bolton should limp along over to the sunny back yard of Dick Cheney where the other Bush disasters sit, yawning in the midday heat, and licking their wounds, planning another comeback and waiting fer somethin' to chase. Ol' Cheney sits in his rocker on the stoop, polishin' his rusty shotgun, mumbling to hissef, spittin' tobacco into a boot. When George come a-callin', they talk about who would be a good slab of poison meat to throw to the Senate as UN ambassador. George smiles to hissef and leans back, wonderin' what his ol' fren Rufus E. Hasp is up to these here days. Ol' Rufus would make a right good UN ambassydor, having an extensive background as a circus roustabout. Why ol' Rufus might just be the real brains in his administration. George turns to Dick. "Put in a call to Rufus Hasp, Dick." Dick looks up and smiles slowly. He lifts his shotgun and aims at the sunny horizon. He pretends to shot. "Bang!", he sez and spits into the boot.