Some TIPS for Ashcroft

8/2/2002

Now is the time for all good Americans to come to the aid of their country. We're at war, pal, so get off your slovenly, ever-widening ass and help the cause. Our honorable Attorney General, John Ashcroft, is in dire need of help and only you can give it to him. John has a new program you can participate in to prove your patriotic loyalty. It's called TIPS (Truly I Pander Shit) which gives you the opportunity to support your local law enforcement agencies by spying on your fellow countrymen. Doesn't that make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside? I don't see you standing in line at the Marine recruiting station, so unless you're some sort of degenerate, reprobate terrorist, you better sign up. Get out the binoculars, put on that trench coat and start peeking in windows. Now!

I've done my part. I've spent the last few weeks spying up a storm and I've come up with a long list of scofflaws, scumbags and scrotum-heads who all richly deserve to be handcuffed, hog-tied and unceremoniously dumped into one of John's military detention cells. You wouldn't believe how many "respectable" people I've found who are secretly plotting to do serious harm to our country. I hereby turn these evil doers over to United States of America for safekeeping. Book 'em, John.
 

Paul Every time the stock market plummets another 400 points, Paul just happens to be out of the country. Coincidence? Ha! And get this: He's been traveling around the world with a known rock star. A flea-bitten, roach-infested rock star! Bono! No, not a good Republican like Sonny Bono, I'm talking about Bono! From Ireland. Ireland! You think someone from Ireland might know a thing or two about terrorism? What do you suppose they talk about all night long in those pubs? Grab Paul and throw him in the dungeon!

 
 

Kenny Boy Remember the power blackouts in California last year that Kenny Boy made happen by manipulating the electric supply so he could collect obscene profits? Remember how he set up a string of bogus partnerships and made a bunch of bogus transactions with them to hide debt from his shareholders and the SEC? Remember how Enron employees lost their life savings and retirement accounts as the price of the company stock went from sixty dollars to sixty cents right after Kenny Boy sold off all his? Get a rope.

 

Condi She claims to have something to do with national security. But can we trust her? She plays the piano. She wants to be Commissioner of the NFL. What does that have to do with national security? And look at those eyes! She must be taking some dangerous drugs to cause that Stepford Wives look. Make her pee in a cup, John.

 

Big Dick He ran a company that did business with Libya, Iran and Iraq. He made millions of dollars through shoddy accounting tricks. He let Kenny Boy write our national energy policy. What a Big Dick! Now he's flown the coop and spends all his time at an undisclosed location! I'd like to know why. Wouldn't you?

 
 

Bare Tits John! Quick! Look over your shoulder! It's a threat to our morals! It's another step towards Sodom and Gomorra! It's a set of bare tits! What'll those sick, sorry bastards think of next? No wonder we can't find Osama bin Laden. Fake bare tits! Cover 'em up, John. And I'll be extra diligent looking for a few more good sets.

 
 

Martha Her kitchen smells like freshly baked bread and her bathroom smells like tulips in the springtime, but her pleas of innocence about the ImClone mess smell as rotten as John Walker Lindh's butt after 20 years in prison.

 

Harvey Promised the accounting firms a kinder and gentler SEC. Lobbied against the same corporate reforms he's now responsible for enforcing. Gets heavily involved in investigations of his former clients. Proposed legislation to Congress to give himself a raise. Obviously hiding something in that scroty-looking beard. A few years in sunny, downtown Guantanamo Bay, Cuba ought to fix Harvey.

 
 

Dubya I don't know his real name but his code name is 'W'. Probably stands for Wicked. Or Weasel-like and Wisdom-free. 'W' knows more than he lets on. He won't talk about his past drug use. He won't talk about going AWOL from the Air National Guard. He won't talk about getting arrested for DWI. He won't talk about his wheeler-dealer shell games at Harken Oil that made him rich while his Daddy covered for him. Make him talk, John.

 

Calico Cats Oh my God! Run for your life, John! It's the sign of the devil! Don't let that calico cat cross in front of you! Get out the crucifix and the garlic! Anoint yourself with Crisco! Call the Office of Homeland Security! Call Jerry Falwell! You're damned for all eternity! Damn.

Here's another TIP, John. While you're running away in terror from that calico cat, take the time to smell the litter box. Some of that litter may be of your own making.

 

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