The women who like George Bush say they trust him as a leader. They do not say they want to have sex with him or find him attractive. They do not seem to jump with excitement at the mention of his name. At least not that I have seen or heard. But they do seem somewhat fed up with lying bastards and spineless mama’s boys, much more so than the women who hate him. He's far more charismatic than his father, but far less than many U.S. Presidents before him. His election and re-election seemed to defy the odds.
The women who hate George Bush seem to hate him with extreme passion and intense emotion. They say they hope he dies in some horrible and painful way and they hope he goes to hell. And they love Bill Clinton.
Bill Clinton is known to be a man who treats women like material objects. He doesn’t respect them. He doesn't even seem to like them. He lies to them constantly to get them to do what he wants. He uses them. He discards them. He denies having ever known them once they become inconvenient. He never, ever says he’s sorry. In all these ways he's considered to have been similar to both Kennedy and Roosevelt.
I don’t claim to understand this odd phenomenon, but I do recall working with a guy who reminded me of Bill Clinton more than anyone I’ve ever known. His name is not important, but I'll call him Ryan. The following are my opinions based on my observations:Ryan is a punk. He’s extremely skinny, with blonde hair that sticks straight up because he got it cut to look like Billy Idol. He has blue eyes. He has no muscles and dresses in shiny disco clothes like some kind of long lost member of the band Abba. He wears a shiny black leather jacket all year round because he thinks it makes him look cool even when it's too hot out and he's pouring sweat, or too cold and he's forced to run down the downtown Memphis sidewalk like a fool because he's freezing his skinny white disco ass off. He gets all his money from his daddy, who got his money by manipulating people at a company I'll call Fat Ex (not its' real name) until he got promoted into management, where using and abusing people is an art form.
Ryan smokes like a freight train, but bums his cigarettes from all the right people. He drinks way too much and has been known to come to work drunk, but gets all the right people to pay for his drinks. He drives like a lunatic, but he has the right kind of car in the minds of the people above him and that’s all that really matters. He’s destined to be promoted to management simply because he’s such a narcissistic asshole who uses and abuses people and never says he’s sorry or admits to being wrong.
He’s a natural.
Ryan drives a silver BMW 525, which Daddy paid for, of course. He wears a $1500 wristwatch which a girl who lives in Florida paid for before sending him photos of herself naked with her new breast implants. He works for a company I'll call Auto Suck (not its' real name.) Ryan, being the sort of guy who uses women and then discards them like trash, happily showed the emailed photos to everyone he works with at Auto Suck, including me.
Normal people get fired at Auto Suck for sending around photos of naked women or coming to work late and drunk. But Ryan smokes and drinks with some of the higher level incompetents, so he can do anything he pleases and get away with it. AutoSuck suspends the rules where Ryan is concerned. He can do no wrong.
I asked Ryan if this naked girl with shiny new plastic breasts was his girlfriend. He said, ‘no, she’s just one of the skank ho’s I fucked. We don’t hang anymore. She keeps calling me at work, but I don’t answer.’
I thought it was odd that Ryan described a girl who treats him so well as a “skank ho” and I asked about that. He said that all the women who hang with him and especially who sleep with him are skank hos. All of them. Every single one.
Ryan smashed up his daddy’s BMW while driving drunk in downtown Memphis at a speed he claims was over 90 mph. He said he had a skank ho in the car with him and they were going to his place so he could fuck her and then throw her ass out. He tried to take a 90 degree turn in the rain while still doing 90 mph and, as you might imagine, did not make it. Not even close.
God chose not to let Ryan be killed in this high speed crash and thus rid the world of him. In fact, Ryan wasn’t even scratched. Isn’t that always the way? All 4 wheels were broken off the car when it went up a curb and slid for a great distance across an empty lot, coming to rest comfortably against a fence. The entire suspension and undercarriage of the car was demolished.
Ryan, being a Clintonesque sort of guy, never even mentioned whether the girl was hurt or not. It just didn’t occur to him to care.
Ryan made a great impression on the guys at the bodyshop who were working to repair the mess he’d made of his daddy’s car. He flashed his jewelry and told them all how great he was and what he thought of them and then expected them to admire him as much as he admires himself. They took extra long to get the job done and kept ‘losing’ parts so that they’d have to reorder. They took over 2 months. Ryan was on the phone with them arguing and screaming every single day. This did not seem to speed things up at all.
For 2 months Ryan had no means of transportation. So he turned to me, being as I was the closest thing to an actual friend that he ever had, and asked me to give him a ride home from work every single day. I stupidly agreed to help him out of the jam he’d gotten himself into, thinking that this is the sort of thing that friends do for one another. I drove him home every single day. He never said ‘thanks’ and only paid me $3 after some of the other people he hung out with called him a cheap, selfish bastard. They were mad at him for not only using them to pay for his drinks, but for wasting the drinks and never saying ‘thanks.’ When they heard how I had driven him home and how he never said ‘thanks’ or paid me anything they began to rag on him.
Every time I drove Rye home after work I learned more about him. Every night Ryan went out on the town in downtown Memphis and got drunk. He likes the Flying Saucer and he really likes the rooftop parties at the Peabody on Thursday nights. He gets to meet a lot of really drunk young girls while he’s out and he gets to take them home and fuck them before they can sober up.
The thing that struck me about Ryan’s Playboy Mansion lifestyle is how he treats the girls after he’s fucked them. Every week, at least once a week, I’d be dropping him off only to see a strange new car parked in front of his place. “Oh fuck,” Ryan would say, “what the hell is SHE doing back here again?!”
Ryan always finds it perplexing why a girl wants to come over and see him again after he’s fucked her. Apparently even he can’t understand why a girl would want to stick around for a guy like him. So, just to drive the point home, when they come back he tells them to ‘fuck off.’ Didn’t they get the hint when he’d said it after fucking them the night before? ‘Why is this so hard to understand? I fucked you and now you’re leaving. Don’t come back.’
I don’t really like either Bush or Clinton all that much. I don’t necessarily hate them either. They’re both a lot like various people I’ve known in the past. George Bush is apparently not very attractive to women, being more like your accountant than your fantasy man. And Bill Clinton, well he’s a lot like Ryan. He fucks you and then tells you to get the fuck out and don’t come back. Then he emails naked photos of you to everyone he knows and refuses to answer your phone calls.
Who am I to disagree?
Travel the world and the seven seas
Everybody's looking for something
Some of them want to use you
Some of them want to get used by you
Some of them want to abuse you
Some of them want to be abused
Sweet dreams are made of this
Who am I to disagree?
Travel the world and the seven seas
Everybody's looking for something
Some of them want to use you
Some of them want to get used by you
Some of them want to abuse you
Some of them want to be abused
I wanna use you and abuse you
I wanna know what's inside you
(Whispering) Hold your head up, movin' on
Keep your head up, movin' on
Hold your head up, movin' on
Keep your head up, movin' on
Hold your head up, movin' on
Keep your head up, movin' on
Movin' on!
Sweet dreams are made of this
Who am I to disagree?
Travel the world and the seven seas
Everybody's looking for something
Some of them want to use you
Some of them want to get used by you
Some of them want to abuse you
Some of them want to be abused
I'm gonna use you and abuse you
I'm gonna know what's inside
Gonna use you and abuse you
I'm gonna know what's inside you
Oh, and just to finish the story about Ryan and his daddy’s BMW, after waiting the 2 long months to get his car back, Ryan took it the very day he got it back and smashed it into a column in the parking garage at Auto Suck. He was drunk, of course, and security got it all on tape. He wasn’t fired for driving drunk at work, as he is a goldenboy. But all the security people enjoyed a good laugh at his expensive, repeatedly replaying the tape for anyone who wanted to see it. Apparently he doesn’t smoke with them and they don’t like him.
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