During the Bush administration, the third, if one counts the man we called George Bush in the 1980s and 1990s as heading the first of these, with the son having his own two administrations in the twenty-first century, I wrote a fictionalized account of the second Bush's presidency, with the War on Terror as background. The Ratfuck Bastard Conspiracy, composed entirely of dialogue, consists of conversations, press conferences, and interviews. Each character is based on a real person. George W. Bush is Ed Schnitt; Dick Cheney is Chick Raney; Donald Rumsfeld is Egon Bumsteader; Condoleezza Rice is Cunnilingus Weiss. I can't recall the name of the Bill O'Reilly character, but I made him into a fractious and bellicose woman with an Irish surname.
Vice President Chick Raney runs the show, with Defense Secretary Bumsteader his dim best friend. President Schnitt has no idea what's going on most of the time. Chick Raney develops plans to escape from Earth along with a select wealthy few, and servants, and then remotely launch every nuke in America at thousands of targets worldwide.
The play, or story, was fun to write; I never finished it. Due to the continuous passing pageant of history, The Ratfuck Bastard Conspiracy, logically, could have no ending. There were and still are an endless series of events to write about; people in news media and government to satirize. When I wrote it, the Iraq War was ongoing. With the aid of intellectual honesty, anyone could realize by 2006 and 2007 that Bush, Cheney, and their associates, were corrupt, heading a political big business machine responsible for mass slaughter, war profiteering, wrongful imprisonment, and torture, covered by lies and the comfortable omission of difficult truths by news corporations and their employees.
The "conspiracy" part of the title alludes to the complicity shared between politicians and corporations, the military, and big news media, so that a man like Dick Cheney, to give one example, can be instrumental in causing the murderous pounding of Iraq while securing contracts for a subsidiary of a corporation he formerly headed to rebuild parts of the nation he plotted to destroy. That the son of a bitch isn't pacing a prison cell right now is a testament to the success of power and lies. Not helping justice, President Obama, in 2009, chose to make it impossible for Bush administration members from the top down to ever be prosecuted for war crimes. Did he do that to protect himself, too? He's killed enough children with drone strikes in Pakistan and Yemen to merit a few hot glowing metal rod thrusts up his ass in Hell.
Obama is not a character in The Ratfuck Bastard Conspiracy. Neither is Sarah Palin. I had abandoned the project by the end of 2007. They could've been characters in the story, for the story continues, whether written or not. Consider the ratfuck bastards we have now: Chris Christie, Ted Cruz, Mike Huckabee, Trump. There's no lack when it comes to these fuckers--the kind of people who want to run things. They're so convinced they can do the job well, not just well, but greatly.
Trump's new gripe is against Fox News, the familiarity of his grump focusing once again on Megyn Kelly. She's been assigned to serve, like for the debate last August, as a moderator. Trump claims she'll be unfair to him. He doesn't say he's afraid of a woman, but I'll write it here. He doesn't like Kelly because Kelly doesn't like him--she doesn't play his game. She got to him last August with her question about his well-documented sexist statements about women. Truth about himself is Donald Trump's enemy. Still, he cleverly managed to call attention to his ugly face by "boycotting" the upcoming Fox debate. News media corporations talk about his gripe and his yet to actually happen boycott far more than they're talking about Christie, Jeb Bush, or Marco Rubio, none of whom can afford to get miffed at Megyn Kelly or anyone else, enough to say "Piss on you, I'm not going to your stinking debate!"
Trump is also not a character in The Ratfuck Bastard Conspiracy, but he's a star of the real thing.
Vic Neptune
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