Wednesday, April 28, 2010 3:55:15 AM
George W. Bush Memoir Coming In November
Compiled by DAVE ITZKOFF
Published: April 26, 2010
Former President George W. Bush’s memoir, “Decision Points,” will be released by Crown Publishers, a division of Random House, on Nov. 9, the publisher said on Monday. Mr. Bush will write about political and personal challenges and discuss his handling of events, including the Sept. 11 attacks and Hurricane Katrina, as well as embracing his faith amid an effort to quit drinking. In a news release, Crown said that Mr. Bush would focus on 14 critical decisions in his life and share his reflections on subjects including the closely fought 2000 presidential election and the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq. Crown said that Mr. Bush had given few speeches or interviews since leaving office. “Instead, he has spent almost every day writing ‘Decision Points,’ ” the release said, adding, “He writes honestly and directly about his flaws and mistakes, as well as his historic achievements.” The book will be released in hardcover and in audio and e-book formats. Mr. Bush will also go on a national book tour.
Copyright 2010 The New York Times Company
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/04/27/arts/27arts-GEORGEWBUSHM_BRF.html
=====
Here is the Cover for George W. Bush's 'Memoir'
By Glen Runciter
Apr 26, 2010 04:05 AM
How dumb and lazy is George W. Bush? So dumb and lazy that he can't even write a real memoir! Instead, he will write "an account of key decisions in his life." We have some guesses about what those are.
Oh, goody: America's national embarrassment has finished his book, which is called Decision Points. That is the cover, there, with Bush looking decision-y! But it is not really a book, so much, as a listicle:
Bush has said he is not writing a traditional memoir but an account of key decisions in his life...
According to Crown Publishers, "Decision Points" will offer "gripping, never-before-heard detail" on such historic events as the Sept. 11, 2001, attacks and the 2000 presidential election along with Bush's decision to quit drinking, his relationship with his family and other personal details.
Key decisions! Historic events! Personal details! Why didn't he just call it The Top 10 Decisions of My Presidency, WITH PHOTO? Let us speculate, in our own small listicle, on the possible "Key Decisions" that Our Pal George will write about in his already-irritating book! And let us intersperse those "Key Decisions" with mocking "alternate covers" that we have photoshopped in the style of those "funny" emails your aunt always forwards you! Political humor in the internet era!
Decision Point: Should I pay attention to this memo entitled "Bin Laden determined to strike in US"?
Key Decision: Eh.
Decision Point: Torture: Should we just let the CIA go for it?
Key Decision: Totally. Tell me where to sign.
Decision Point: Is it a good idea for me to land on an aircraft carrier in a flight suit with a sign that says "Mission Accomplished"?
Key Decision: How is it not a good idea?
Decision Point: Do I really need to go to New Orleans after the big hurricane?
Key Decision: Nahhhhh.
Decision Point:Who should I nominate for this Supreme Court vacancy?
Key Decision: Harriet Miers, that's who.
Decision Point: Is it appropriate for me to attempt to massage a sitting head of government?
Key Decision: Who doesn't love a good massage?
Decision Point: What should I call my memoirs?
Key Decision: Uh, The Decider? Or maybe: Decision-Making: It's What I Do. Or, no: My Story, Specifically, the Decisions Part. Yeah, that's good.
[Pics via Getty, AP]
Original material is licensed under a Creative Commons License permitting non-commercial sharing with attribution.
http://gawker.com/5524256/ [with comments]
=====
Second Dumbest Man on Earth is Ghost Writer for Bush Memoir
Just when you thought you had him blanked from memory
Written by Tawdry Soup
Monday, 26 April 2010
Larry Kones, known as the Second Dumbest Man on Earth, has completed the memoir of the presidency of George W. Bush hitting the discount bins at bookstores nationwide on November 9.
Ghost writer Kones was chosen from a pool of candidates known for their breathtaking lack of intelligence. A few of the runners-up were a worm, a piece of corn, a glass of water and a pickle. But Kones won out because of his impressive resume that includes lengthy stints as a hanger untangler for Goodwill, skyhook operator, professional snipe wrangler and his efficient "hunt and peck" typing style.
After completing the project, Mr. Kones was paid handsomely in wooden nickels and is now living in seclusion in a culvert somewhere in Texas. But the editor at Crown publishing, Loretta Pipkin, who was assigned, according to Pipkin, this "total piece of unworkable crap," has removed herself from the book publishing world forever, calling the book, "a sham and a farce."
She goes on to say, "asking people to read a memoir about G W Bush is like asking them to take everything they learned in grammar school and throw it in the garbage. Somehow I pasted together a book written by the second dumbest man in the world about the dumbest man in the world. It was ridiculous.
"We had to go back and structure it into only 12 points just so we could make some kind of sense out of it. We've got talented writers sending us thoughtful well-structured work every day. But Crown Publishing churns out something only the third dumbest man on earth would look at because it's got a picture of his hero on the front. To make it more bizarre-the book is promoted to a target market that doesn't even read. How about that?"
On Monday, G. W. Bush was reached at his palatial Dallas home that was built with the arms, legs and teeth of Iraqi civilians and American soldiers. He giggled like a delighted one-year old then offered this out of the blue: "hee heee hee heee heee. While me an Boney Koney were working on the book, Laura and some other old Republican hides made a quilt out of a bunch of Iraqi nut sacks we saved from the war. That ain't my bag, so to speak, hee hee hee heee hee, but they raffled it off to raise some money for the Palin campaign, so it went to a good cause. Don't forget to mention 9/11 after my name. That baby's still mine. Gotta go, it's baftime."
Crown publishing had no comment when contacted by phone late Monday.
Copyright © 2010 Spoof Media Ltd.
http://www.thespoof.com/news/spoof.cfm?headline=s2i73923
=====
First Look: George W. Bush's Memoir
by Balk posted @12:50 PM
April 26, 2010
Good news, history fans: George W. Bush's Decision Points comes out on November 9th, a week after the midterm elections. The former president "will write about political and personal challenges and discuss his handling of events including the 9/11 attacks and Hurricane Katrina, as well as his embracing of his faith amid his effort to quit drinking… [Bush will] focus on 14 critical decisions in his life and share his reflections on subjects including the closely fought 2000 Presidential election and the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq."
We've managed to score an early excerpt. It's pretty exciting, because it tells the story of his momentous decision to run for president and the process that brought it about. Enjoy!
*
Chapter 3: National Cathedral
This bald man, an old friend of my dad’s, he was on his way to spend the night. He had some business in Austin. He called my dad from his office. Arrangements were made. He would come by private car, a three-hour trip, and my dad would meet him at the mansion. He hadn’t seen him since they had worked together in DC six years ago. But he and the bald man had kept in touch. I wasn’t enthusiastic about his visit. He was no one I knew. And his being bald bothered me. My idea of baldness came from the movies. In the movies, the bald were always trying too hard, like they wanted to make up for their lack of hair. My friend Karl was that way. At any rate, a bald man in my house was not something I looked forward to.
“What am I going to do with a bald man?” I asked my dad from the other room. He was drinking Scotch in the kitchen, making plans to go skydiving. Dad’s pretty spry, for an old guy.
“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” said Dad.
“Maybe I could take him hunting,” I said.
“I wouldn’t recommend it,” said Dad. “He has something important he wants to talk to you about anyway.”
“I don’t know what I'd have to say to a bald man.” I pouted a little, I’ll admit it.
“Just do what I say, damn it,” said Dad, banging his hand on the table. “How many times do I need to tell you that? If it weren’t for me, you’d be another drunk with a couple of failed businesses on his hands.”
It was just like Dad to bring up a real sore spot like that. I could see him getting tense. I knew if I didn’t agree he’d start making fun of me for not becoming Commissioner of Baseball. Sometimes when he had a few too many he’d start in on me, calling me “Mr. Commissioner” in some kind of fancy-pants sissy way that Roger Ailes was never really able to beat out of him. I didn't understand it, but then, like Dad tells me all the time, Jeb’s the one who got the brains. Anyway, I turned down the television and got real quiet for a minute.
Then a guard brought the bald man in. Just amazing. He and Dad hugged. This bald man, feature this, he wearing a pacemaker on the outside! On the outside! Too much, I say. The bald man reached into his briefcase and pulled out a blank pad of paper, the kind you’d give a kid to draw on. My dad brought him into the living room. I turned off the TV. I finished my soda, rinsed the glass, dried my hands. Then I went to the door.
My dad said, “Georgie, you remember Dick.” He was beaming. He had this bald man by his coat sleeve.
“Yes, sir,” I said, although I didn’t really. Maybe he had hair the last time I met him. Who knows?
“Hey there, Georgie boy,” the bald man grunted and tried to make an expression that I think he thought was a smile. “Your dad tells me you’re doing some fine things here.”
“Thank you, sir,” I said. That was definitely strange. Usually the only thing Dad said about my work was that I had the best job in the world because you could be as stupid as a Quayle and still not manage to fuck it up. I’m not sure what he had been telling the bald man, but I was happy to take the credit.
“You two don’t mind, I’m gonna skedaddle,” said Dad. “Ticker okay, Dick?”
“Had a small attack on the drive over,” grunted the bald man, “so I should be able to last a good three hours before the next one. You leave us be, we’ll be fine.”
Dad left. The bald man went over and turned the TV back on. He turned it up a little loud, if you ask me, but he was the guest, so I didn’t say anything.
“Ya got any booze in this place?” grunted the bald man.
“I don’t drink myself—”
“I don’t give a shit what you do or don’t do,” the bald man interrupted. Then he got quiet for a minute. “Sorry,” he grunted. “Don’t mean to get off on the wrong foot. It’s good that you don’t drink. It’ll be a plus for us.”
He looked around the room. Except for the noise from the TV it was totally quiet. Finally he spotted the Scotch.
“Mind if I have a rip?” he asked.
“Be my guest,” I said. “Glasses are—“
He was already drinking straight from the bottle.
“Come sit by me on the couch,” he said. We sat in front of the TV.
Something about the church and the Middle Ages was on the TV. Not your run-of-the-mill TV fare. I wanted to watch something else, maybe the funny videos show. I turned to the other channels. But there was nothing on them, either. So I turned back to the first channel and apologized.
“Georgie, it’s all right,” the bald man grunted. “It’s fine with me. Whatever you want to watch is okay. I’m always learning something. Learning never ends. It won’t hurt me to learn something tonight. I mean, I probably already know everything there is to know, but sometimes you get surprised.”
We didn’t say anything for a time. He was leaning forward with his head turned at me, his right ear aimed in the direction of the set. Very disconcerting. Now and then his eyelids drooped and then they snapped open again. Now and then he put his fingers on his pacemaker and massaged it, like he was about to have a heart attack. He grunted a lot and was sweating the whole time.
After a while the news came on. I usually flip it right off, but the bald man seemed interested. There was a picture of the place where the bad president from Arkansas who beat my dad lived.
“You see that man, Georgie?” asked the bald man.
“Hate him,” I said.
“He’s done some very bad things to this country,” nodded the bald man. “Made us a laughingstock. Things keep up the way they do, and his ozone buddy there takes over after, all of us—I mean you, and me, and your dad, and people like us—are fucked.”
He spat out the word “fucked,” but not in a way that sounded like it was the first time he had ever used it.
“What are your future plans, boy?” asked the bald man.
“Well, on Wednesday I’m cutting the ribbon at a hospital in Amarillo,” I said. “Then Friday we’re honoring the inventor of the chicken-fried bacon platter down in—”
“Fuck that shit,” grunted the bald man. “I mean large scale. You do think large scale, don’t you, Georgie?”
“Well, I’ve got two more years of this,” I said. “I thought after that maybe I’d… well, if Bud Selig’ll let me, I thought about taking another shot at being baseball commissioner. It’s all I ever wanted to do.”
He nodded at me. At first I thought I had finally found someone I could tell all my deep secrets to, but I looked in his eyes and saw the same kind of disgust my dad had whenever I suggested some new investment or idea. I quieted down real quick.
He sighed. Even his sighs sounded like grunts.
“Tell you what,” he grunted. “You got a pen around here?”
There was one on the desk. I brought it over.
“Okay, you’re gonna draw something.” He tossed the pad of paper on the floor and moved his hand in a way that told me he wanted me to crouch over it and start sketching. The bald man got down from the couch and sat next to me on the carpet.
He ran his fingers over the paper. He went up and down the sides of the paper. The edges, even the edges. He fingered the corners.
“All right,” he grunted. “All right, let’s do her.”
He grabbed my hand, the hand with the pen. He closed his hand over my hand. “Go ahead, Georgie, draw,” he grunted. “Draw. You’ll see. I’ll follow along with you. It’ll be okay. Just begin now like I’m telling you. You’ll see. Draw,” the bald man said.
So I began. First I drew a box that looked like a house. It could have been the house my mom and dad used to live in. Then I put a roof on it. At either end of the roof, I drew columns. Crazy.
“Swell,” he grunted. “Terrific. You’re doing fine,” he said. “Never thought anything like this could happen in your lifetime, did you, Georgie? Well, it’s a strange life, we all know that. Go on now. Keep it up.”
I put in windows with arches. I drew an east wing and a west wing. I hung great doors. I couldn’t stop. The TV station went off the air. I put down the pen and closed and opened my fingers. The bald man looked over the paper. He moved the tips of the fingers over the paper, all over what I had drawn, and he nodded.
“Doing fine,” the bald man grunted.
I took up the pen again, and he found my hand. I kept at it. I’m no artist. But I kept drawing just the same.
My wife Laura came in and saw us on the floor. She said, “What are you doing? Tell me, I want to know.”
I didn’t answer her.
The bald man said, “We’re drawing a great house. Me and him are working on it. Press hard,” he said to me. “That’s right. That’s good,” he grunted. “Sure. You got it, Georgie. I can tell. You didn’t think you could. But you can, can’t you? You’re cooking with gas now. You know what I’m saying? We’re going to really have us something here in a minute. How’s the old arm?” he said. “Here’s what I want you to do now. Draw yourself in front of that house.”
My wife said, “What’s going on? George, what are you doing? What’s going on?”
“It’s all right,” he grunted to her. “Close your eyes now,” the bald man grunted to me.
I did it. I closed them just like he said.
“Are they closed?” he grunted. “Don’t fuck around with me.”
“They’re closed,” I said.
“Keep them that way,” he grunted. He said, “Don’t stop now. Draw.”
So we kept on with it. His fingers rode my fingers as my hand went over the paper. It was like nothing else in my life up to now. I made my hips look a little thinner than they usually do, but I drew myself in that house.
Then he said, “I think that’s it. I think you got it,” he grunted. “Take a look. What do you think?”
But I had my eyes closed. I thought I’d keep them that way for a little longer. I thought it was something I ought to do.
“Well?” he said. “Are you looking?”
My eyes were still closed. It was a picture of a big white house. I lived in it. I knew that. But I didn’t feel like I was inside anything.
“It’s really something,” I said.
*
Copyright 2010 The Awl
http://www.theawl.com/2010/04/first-look-george-w-bushs-memoir [with comments]
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David Letterman - George W. Bush Memoirs Top Ten
CBS
April 26, 2010
---
Bush memoir subject of 'Late Show' Top 10
Published: April 27, 2010 at 3:43 PM
NEW YORK, April 27 (UPI) -- Former U.S. President George W. Bush's announcement that he is writing his memoir has become fodder for a "Late Show with David Letterman" Top 10 list.
The Top 10 "Thoughts That Went Through George W. Bush's Mind As He Wrote His Memoirs" roster was presented on Monday's edition of the late-night talk show.
The list was read as follows:
10. "What's a memoir?"
9. "Is 36 pages enough?"
8. "You know who was a great band? Foghat!"
7. "Taco break!"
6. "How cool is it that I was President? Come on, up high!"
5. "Jerky break!"
4. "Chapter 8: the day I went 5-for-5 in White House T-ball. And no gimmies. All ropes."
3. "What? Ricky Martin's gay?"
2. "Do you spell nucular with 2 'O's or an 'EW?'"
1. "Shouldn't (former Vice President Dick) Cheney be the one writing this?"
© 2010 United Press International, Inc.
http://www.upi.com/Entertainment_News/TV/2010/04/27/Bush-memoir-subject-of-Late-Show-Top-10/UPI-11881272397434/
=====
also e.g. (items linked in):
http://investorshub.advfn.com/boards/read_msg.aspx?message_id=46375424 (and preceding)
http://investorshub.advfn.com/boards/read_msg.aspx?message_id=46082601 and preceding and following
http://investorshub.advfn.com/boards/read_msg.aspx?message_id=42728224 (and preceding)
http://investorshub.advfn.com/boards/read_msg.aspx?message_id=34929853 and preceding and following
http://investorshub.advfn.com/boards/read_msg.aspx?message_id=34921449 and preceding and following
Compiled by DAVE ITZKOFF
Published: April 26, 2010
Former President George W. Bush’s memoir, “Decision Points,” will be released by Crown Publishers, a division of Random House, on Nov. 9, the publisher said on Monday. Mr. Bush will write about political and personal challenges and discuss his handling of events, including the Sept. 11 attacks and Hurricane Katrina, as well as embracing his faith amid an effort to quit drinking. In a news release, Crown said that Mr. Bush would focus on 14 critical decisions in his life and share his reflections on subjects including the closely fought 2000 presidential election and the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq. Crown said that Mr. Bush had given few speeches or interviews since leaving office. “Instead, he has spent almost every day writing ‘Decision Points,’ ” the release said, adding, “He writes honestly and directly about his flaws and mistakes, as well as his historic achievements.” The book will be released in hardcover and in audio and e-book formats. Mr. Bush will also go on a national book tour.
Copyright 2010 The New York Times Company
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/04/27/arts/27arts-GEORGEWBUSHM_BRF.html
=====
Here is the Cover for George W. Bush's 'Memoir'
By Glen Runciter
Apr 26, 2010 04:05 AM
How dumb and lazy is George W. Bush? So dumb and lazy that he can't even write a real memoir! Instead, he will write "an account of key decisions in his life." We have some guesses about what those are.
Oh, goody: America's national embarrassment has finished his book, which is called Decision Points. That is the cover, there, with Bush looking decision-y! But it is not really a book, so much, as a listicle:
Bush has said he is not writing a traditional memoir but an account of key decisions in his life...
According to Crown Publishers, "Decision Points" will offer "gripping, never-before-heard detail" on such historic events as the Sept. 11, 2001, attacks and the 2000 presidential election along with Bush's decision to quit drinking, his relationship with his family and other personal details.
Key decisions! Historic events! Personal details! Why didn't he just call it The Top 10 Decisions of My Presidency, WITH PHOTO? Let us speculate, in our own small listicle, on the possible "Key Decisions" that Our Pal George will write about in his already-irritating book! And let us intersperse those "Key Decisions" with mocking "alternate covers" that we have photoshopped in the style of those "funny" emails your aunt always forwards you! Political humor in the internet era!
Decision Point: Should I pay attention to this memo entitled "Bin Laden determined to strike in US"?
Key Decision: Eh.
Decision Point: Torture: Should we just let the CIA go for it?
Key Decision: Totally. Tell me where to sign.
Decision Point: Is it a good idea for me to land on an aircraft carrier in a flight suit with a sign that says "Mission Accomplished"?
Key Decision: How is it not a good idea?
Decision Point: Do I really need to go to New Orleans after the big hurricane?
Key Decision: Nahhhhh.
Decision Point:Who should I nominate for this Supreme Court vacancy?
Key Decision: Harriet Miers, that's who.
Decision Point: Is it appropriate for me to attempt to massage a sitting head of government?
Key Decision: Who doesn't love a good massage?
Decision Point: What should I call my memoirs?
Key Decision: Uh, The Decider? Or maybe: Decision-Making: It's What I Do. Or, no: My Story, Specifically, the Decisions Part. Yeah, that's good.
[Pics via Getty, AP]
Original material is licensed under a Creative Commons License permitting non-commercial sharing with attribution.
http://gawker.com/5524256/ [with comments]
=====
Second Dumbest Man on Earth is Ghost Writer for Bush Memoir
Just when you thought you had him blanked from memory
Written by Tawdry Soup
Monday, 26 April 2010
Larry Kones, known as the Second Dumbest Man on Earth, has completed the memoir of the presidency of George W. Bush hitting the discount bins at bookstores nationwide on November 9.
Ghost writer Kones was chosen from a pool of candidates known for their breathtaking lack of intelligence. A few of the runners-up were a worm, a piece of corn, a glass of water and a pickle. But Kones won out because of his impressive resume that includes lengthy stints as a hanger untangler for Goodwill, skyhook operator, professional snipe wrangler and his efficient "hunt and peck" typing style.
After completing the project, Mr. Kones was paid handsomely in wooden nickels and is now living in seclusion in a culvert somewhere in Texas. But the editor at Crown publishing, Loretta Pipkin, who was assigned, according to Pipkin, this "total piece of unworkable crap," has removed herself from the book publishing world forever, calling the book, "a sham and a farce."
She goes on to say, "asking people to read a memoir about G W Bush is like asking them to take everything they learned in grammar school and throw it in the garbage. Somehow I pasted together a book written by the second dumbest man in the world about the dumbest man in the world. It was ridiculous.
"We had to go back and structure it into only 12 points just so we could make some kind of sense out of it. We've got talented writers sending us thoughtful well-structured work every day. But Crown Publishing churns out something only the third dumbest man on earth would look at because it's got a picture of his hero on the front. To make it more bizarre-the book is promoted to a target market that doesn't even read. How about that?"
On Monday, G. W. Bush was reached at his palatial Dallas home that was built with the arms, legs and teeth of Iraqi civilians and American soldiers. He giggled like a delighted one-year old then offered this out of the blue: "hee heee hee heee heee. While me an Boney Koney were working on the book, Laura and some other old Republican hides made a quilt out of a bunch of Iraqi nut sacks we saved from the war. That ain't my bag, so to speak, hee hee hee heee hee, but they raffled it off to raise some money for the Palin campaign, so it went to a good cause. Don't forget to mention 9/11 after my name. That baby's still mine. Gotta go, it's baftime."
Crown publishing had no comment when contacted by phone late Monday.
Copyright © 2010 Spoof Media Ltd.
http://www.thespoof.com/news/spoof.cfm?headline=s2i73923
=====
First Look: George W. Bush's Memoir
by Balk posted @12:50 PM
April 26, 2010
Good news, history fans: George W. Bush's Decision Points comes out on November 9th, a week after the midterm elections. The former president "will write about political and personal challenges and discuss his handling of events including the 9/11 attacks and Hurricane Katrina, as well as his embracing of his faith amid his effort to quit drinking… [Bush will] focus on 14 critical decisions in his life and share his reflections on subjects including the closely fought 2000 Presidential election and the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq."
We've managed to score an early excerpt. It's pretty exciting, because it tells the story of his momentous decision to run for president and the process that brought it about. Enjoy!
*
Chapter 3: National Cathedral
This bald man, an old friend of my dad’s, he was on his way to spend the night. He had some business in Austin. He called my dad from his office. Arrangements were made. He would come by private car, a three-hour trip, and my dad would meet him at the mansion. He hadn’t seen him since they had worked together in DC six years ago. But he and the bald man had kept in touch. I wasn’t enthusiastic about his visit. He was no one I knew. And his being bald bothered me. My idea of baldness came from the movies. In the movies, the bald were always trying too hard, like they wanted to make up for their lack of hair. My friend Karl was that way. At any rate, a bald man in my house was not something I looked forward to.
“What am I going to do with a bald man?” I asked my dad from the other room. He was drinking Scotch in the kitchen, making plans to go skydiving. Dad’s pretty spry, for an old guy.
“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” said Dad.
“Maybe I could take him hunting,” I said.
“I wouldn’t recommend it,” said Dad. “He has something important he wants to talk to you about anyway.”
“I don’t know what I'd have to say to a bald man.” I pouted a little, I’ll admit it.
“Just do what I say, damn it,” said Dad, banging his hand on the table. “How many times do I need to tell you that? If it weren’t for me, you’d be another drunk with a couple of failed businesses on his hands.”
It was just like Dad to bring up a real sore spot like that. I could see him getting tense. I knew if I didn’t agree he’d start making fun of me for not becoming Commissioner of Baseball. Sometimes when he had a few too many he’d start in on me, calling me “Mr. Commissioner” in some kind of fancy-pants sissy way that Roger Ailes was never really able to beat out of him. I didn't understand it, but then, like Dad tells me all the time, Jeb’s the one who got the brains. Anyway, I turned down the television and got real quiet for a minute.
Then a guard brought the bald man in. Just amazing. He and Dad hugged. This bald man, feature this, he wearing a pacemaker on the outside! On the outside! Too much, I say. The bald man reached into his briefcase and pulled out a blank pad of paper, the kind you’d give a kid to draw on. My dad brought him into the living room. I turned off the TV. I finished my soda, rinsed the glass, dried my hands. Then I went to the door.
My dad said, “Georgie, you remember Dick.” He was beaming. He had this bald man by his coat sleeve.
“Yes, sir,” I said, although I didn’t really. Maybe he had hair the last time I met him. Who knows?
“Hey there, Georgie boy,” the bald man grunted and tried to make an expression that I think he thought was a smile. “Your dad tells me you’re doing some fine things here.”
“Thank you, sir,” I said. That was definitely strange. Usually the only thing Dad said about my work was that I had the best job in the world because you could be as stupid as a Quayle and still not manage to fuck it up. I’m not sure what he had been telling the bald man, but I was happy to take the credit.
“You two don’t mind, I’m gonna skedaddle,” said Dad. “Ticker okay, Dick?”
“Had a small attack on the drive over,” grunted the bald man, “so I should be able to last a good three hours before the next one. You leave us be, we’ll be fine.”
Dad left. The bald man went over and turned the TV back on. He turned it up a little loud, if you ask me, but he was the guest, so I didn’t say anything.
“Ya got any booze in this place?” grunted the bald man.
“I don’t drink myself—”
“I don’t give a shit what you do or don’t do,” the bald man interrupted. Then he got quiet for a minute. “Sorry,” he grunted. “Don’t mean to get off on the wrong foot. It’s good that you don’t drink. It’ll be a plus for us.”
He looked around the room. Except for the noise from the TV it was totally quiet. Finally he spotted the Scotch.
“Mind if I have a rip?” he asked.
“Be my guest,” I said. “Glasses are—“
He was already drinking straight from the bottle.
“Come sit by me on the couch,” he said. We sat in front of the TV.
Something about the church and the Middle Ages was on the TV. Not your run-of-the-mill TV fare. I wanted to watch something else, maybe the funny videos show. I turned to the other channels. But there was nothing on them, either. So I turned back to the first channel and apologized.
“Georgie, it’s all right,” the bald man grunted. “It’s fine with me. Whatever you want to watch is okay. I’m always learning something. Learning never ends. It won’t hurt me to learn something tonight. I mean, I probably already know everything there is to know, but sometimes you get surprised.”
We didn’t say anything for a time. He was leaning forward with his head turned at me, his right ear aimed in the direction of the set. Very disconcerting. Now and then his eyelids drooped and then they snapped open again. Now and then he put his fingers on his pacemaker and massaged it, like he was about to have a heart attack. He grunted a lot and was sweating the whole time.
After a while the news came on. I usually flip it right off, but the bald man seemed interested. There was a picture of the place where the bad president from Arkansas who beat my dad lived.
“You see that man, Georgie?” asked the bald man.
“Hate him,” I said.
“He’s done some very bad things to this country,” nodded the bald man. “Made us a laughingstock. Things keep up the way they do, and his ozone buddy there takes over after, all of us—I mean you, and me, and your dad, and people like us—are fucked.”
He spat out the word “fucked,” but not in a way that sounded like it was the first time he had ever used it.
“What are your future plans, boy?” asked the bald man.
“Well, on Wednesday I’m cutting the ribbon at a hospital in Amarillo,” I said. “Then Friday we’re honoring the inventor of the chicken-fried bacon platter down in—”
“Fuck that shit,” grunted the bald man. “I mean large scale. You do think large scale, don’t you, Georgie?”
“Well, I’ve got two more years of this,” I said. “I thought after that maybe I’d… well, if Bud Selig’ll let me, I thought about taking another shot at being baseball commissioner. It’s all I ever wanted to do.”
He nodded at me. At first I thought I had finally found someone I could tell all my deep secrets to, but I looked in his eyes and saw the same kind of disgust my dad had whenever I suggested some new investment or idea. I quieted down real quick.
He sighed. Even his sighs sounded like grunts.
“Tell you what,” he grunted. “You got a pen around here?”
There was one on the desk. I brought it over.
“Okay, you’re gonna draw something.” He tossed the pad of paper on the floor and moved his hand in a way that told me he wanted me to crouch over it and start sketching. The bald man got down from the couch and sat next to me on the carpet.
He ran his fingers over the paper. He went up and down the sides of the paper. The edges, even the edges. He fingered the corners.
“All right,” he grunted. “All right, let’s do her.”
He grabbed my hand, the hand with the pen. He closed his hand over my hand. “Go ahead, Georgie, draw,” he grunted. “Draw. You’ll see. I’ll follow along with you. It’ll be okay. Just begin now like I’m telling you. You’ll see. Draw,” the bald man said.
So I began. First I drew a box that looked like a house. It could have been the house my mom and dad used to live in. Then I put a roof on it. At either end of the roof, I drew columns. Crazy.
“Swell,” he grunted. “Terrific. You’re doing fine,” he said. “Never thought anything like this could happen in your lifetime, did you, Georgie? Well, it’s a strange life, we all know that. Go on now. Keep it up.”
I put in windows with arches. I drew an east wing and a west wing. I hung great doors. I couldn’t stop. The TV station went off the air. I put down the pen and closed and opened my fingers. The bald man looked over the paper. He moved the tips of the fingers over the paper, all over what I had drawn, and he nodded.
“Doing fine,” the bald man grunted.
I took up the pen again, and he found my hand. I kept at it. I’m no artist. But I kept drawing just the same.
My wife Laura came in and saw us on the floor. She said, “What are you doing? Tell me, I want to know.”
I didn’t answer her.
The bald man said, “We’re drawing a great house. Me and him are working on it. Press hard,” he said to me. “That’s right. That’s good,” he grunted. “Sure. You got it, Georgie. I can tell. You didn’t think you could. But you can, can’t you? You’re cooking with gas now. You know what I’m saying? We’re going to really have us something here in a minute. How’s the old arm?” he said. “Here’s what I want you to do now. Draw yourself in front of that house.”
My wife said, “What’s going on? George, what are you doing? What’s going on?”
“It’s all right,” he grunted to her. “Close your eyes now,” the bald man grunted to me.
I did it. I closed them just like he said.
“Are they closed?” he grunted. “Don’t fuck around with me.”
“They’re closed,” I said.
“Keep them that way,” he grunted. He said, “Don’t stop now. Draw.”
So we kept on with it. His fingers rode my fingers as my hand went over the paper. It was like nothing else in my life up to now. I made my hips look a little thinner than they usually do, but I drew myself in that house.
Then he said, “I think that’s it. I think you got it,” he grunted. “Take a look. What do you think?”
But I had my eyes closed. I thought I’d keep them that way for a little longer. I thought it was something I ought to do.
“Well?” he said. “Are you looking?”
My eyes were still closed. It was a picture of a big white house. I lived in it. I knew that. But I didn’t feel like I was inside anything.
“It’s really something,” I said.
*
Copyright 2010 The Awl
http://www.theawl.com/2010/04/first-look-george-w-bushs-memoir [with comments]
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David Letterman - George W. Bush Memoirs Top Ten
CBS
April 26, 2010
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Y3CctR7CT0 [with comment] [also embedded at http://www.cbs.com/late_night/late_show/video/?pid=4h49C_d3JBqmJ_idNvTJYeeOovBtLZvs ]
---
Bush memoir subject of 'Late Show' Top 10
Published: April 27, 2010 at 3:43 PM
NEW YORK, April 27 (UPI) -- Former U.S. President George W. Bush's announcement that he is writing his memoir has become fodder for a "Late Show with David Letterman" Top 10 list.
The Top 10 "Thoughts That Went Through George W. Bush's Mind As He Wrote His Memoirs" roster was presented on Monday's edition of the late-night talk show.
The list was read as follows:
10. "What's a memoir?"
9. "Is 36 pages enough?"
8. "You know who was a great band? Foghat!"
7. "Taco break!"
6. "How cool is it that I was President? Come on, up high!"
5. "Jerky break!"
4. "Chapter 8: the day I went 5-for-5 in White House T-ball. And no gimmies. All ropes."
3. "What? Ricky Martin's gay?"
2. "Do you spell nucular with 2 'O's or an 'EW?'"
1. "Shouldn't (former Vice President Dick) Cheney be the one writing this?"
© 2010 United Press International, Inc.
http://www.upi.com/Entertainment_News/TV/2010/04/27/Bush-memoir-subject-of-Late-Show-Top-10/UPI-11881272397434/
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also e.g. (items linked in):
http://investorshub.advfn.com/boards/read_msg.aspx?message_id=46375424 (and preceding)
http://investorshub.advfn.com/boards/read_msg.aspx?message_id=46082601 and preceding and following
http://investorshub.advfn.com/boards/read_msg.aspx?message_id=42728224 (and preceding)
http://investorshub.advfn.com/boards/read_msg.aspx?message_id=34929853 and preceding and following
http://investorshub.advfn.com/boards/read_msg.aspx?message_id=34921449 and preceding and following
Greensburg, KS - 5/4/07
"Eternal vigilance is the price of Liberty."
from John Philpot Curran, Speech
upon the Right of Election, 1790
F6
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