Dear George W,
I’ve been patient up until now. Or resigned, or defeated, or whatever you would like to call it. Complacent, if you feel like being harsh. We’ve had our laughs– that Bushisms calendar I gave my dad for Christmas last year really has seen us through these final months. (He keeps his favorites and they live on our kitchen table at my sister’s and I’s places until we come home and read them. Only then are they recycled. Or perhaps he salvages them from the brown grocery bag in the pantry and frames them; I guess I don’t know.)
Some things I’ve got a no-tolerance policy on though: waking up a toddler when I’ve just gotten him/her down for a nap, using the last chocolate chips and not buying more, quietly eroding women’s rights and undermining basic health issues, and feeding me food so spicy my jaw hurts. Ok, so maybe I’m hungry, as that seems a rather food-centric list. And it’s definitely not complete. At any rate, let’s talk about the third item down.
Georgie, that’s enough. Stop it. Health workers are required to provide the best care possible. If they don’t want to provide health care, they should be in a different field. And yes, providing emergency contraception to rape victims is health care. It is basic health care. Actually, emergency contraception falls under the category of–wait for it– gasp! contraception. That’s right! It’s not even abortion. (Anyone want to talk about how that also is legal, and that also is health care?) Anyone want to talk about how Georgie and his lovely wife have two children? Either they’re really good at counting or they got a little help of the medical variety.
[I’m talking about George W. Bush’s last minute somersaults as he leaves office: as Martha Burk on the Huffington Post puts it, “W’s Parting Gifts to Women.”]
Honestly, shouldn’t you be trying to sneak out as quietly as possible? What happened to senioritis, where lifting a pen seems like hard work? Maybe the White House should start doing end-of-the-term yearbooks so you could be spending this time drawing moustaches on people and changing their names into dirty words?
It’s like this: we usually only hear half the nursery rhyme. Full verses go….
George Porgie, Puddin’ and pie
Kissed the girls and made them cry
When the boys came out to play
Georgie Porgie ran away.
Here’s the thing, Georgie. QUIT MAKING THE GIRLS CRY. The bad guys are going to make you run away anyway. And the men and women coming to town have work to do. No more peeing in the sandbox before they get there. Go home.
Just take a nap until January 20th. I’m not saying please anymore. I’m done counting to three. In your room NOW.