George W. Bush's weblog:
April 4, 2003
Why won't this war end for God's sake? We need to wrap it up. Dick says the political damage gets great if the body count rises above 100. We're already in the 50s and we haven't even reached Baghdad. This is all Blair's doing. If he had gone along with the original plan, of just flattening the city, it would have all been over in days. We could have rode the whole patriotism, Sept. 11 thing to the end. With the way CNN and the other media have been toeing the line, I'm sure the political damage would have been minuscule. But this whole thing from the very beginning has been stretched out like that hooker Perle was telling me about. I will not let this hurt me politically. That's number one. At least baseball season has begun, thank the Lord. Just when I needed it. Let's see if A-Rod comes through this year. I like the Rangers chances this year.
For the fourth time this week, I've had this dream about dad where we're out at the Maine house, and I'm a young man, before Yale, and the softball game is wrapping up, and I'm up to bat, and dad's pitching and he throws me a lob, a rock, the kind that hangs in front of me for a full second, and I give it a good whack and peg dad right in the nose, and he's got his head lowered, holding his nose, while blood starts trickling through his fingers, down his chin, and this feeling of grief...and pity just washes over me and I drop the bat and run to the mound but he's gone by this time. I'm in an empty field. I wake up, piss and shit and go back to sleep.
I know this whole thing is a challenge and people try to make me feel dumb, but I have what they don't: balls. This town is full of pussies who overthink every fucking detail. I'm enjoying watching them squirm. Giving them the shaft, watching as they realize that I don't give a shit about their studies and official communiques. Like Dick says, rendering them irrelevant. What are they going to do? They know where the real power is these days.
Karl said last night at dinner that I should work on the long, presidential walk, that I'm starting to look too much like a cowboy, whatever that means. I said I though that was a good thing, but he said that this week we'll present a more cooperative, diplomatic image, and I should appear mature, humble, like I give a shit. All for those fucking Europeans who are turning on us with this Iraq thing. He played some tape for me, and I thought I hit most of the marks -- the chin up, arms swinging once for every two strides, calm face calm face, no smiling, presidential. Karl suggests a quicker pace, a wave or two. Hmm...Will practice tonight after Limbaugh.
I caught Laura watching the demonstrators on television this afternoon. CNN or something. That Blair shouldn't even have let those pussies march. Should have done what Bloomberg did. Make their jobs impossible. Used this war on terrorism thing to stop it. Blair won't learn these lessons. He's the weak link in this project.
How far can I push this? Wolfowitz says all the way. We seem to be pissing off a lot of people. Even dad's scared. But that was his problem the first time, wasn't it? He got SCARED. That's why we're here picking up his fucking trash. Still, sometimes, the fact that I don't actually know what I'm talking about, that I'm running this thing by feeling, that fact makes me waver. I'm just a big fake, a loser, a dumbshit. OK, you know better than that. Look at how well you've gotten through all this. Sept. 11. There was no script for that. You just went out and felt your way through it. You can feel your way through this. That's it. Saddam's finished. He picked the wrong family to fuck with.
Family get-together time again. Dad's birthday. Jeb's coming at 4. The twins are here from school. They've already been throwing the softball around. I talked to Mom for an hour today. She's starting to lose it a little bit. A weird thought crept into my head today while I was talking to her. It looked like she was scared of me. Maybe she things I'm overdoing it. I know she thrives off this stuff, but I get the feeling she things I'm going too far. I wanted to tell her this is how I redeem the Bush name. I have to become what dad wasn't. I am what dad isn't. I am not a wimp. Even the people who hate me (fuck them) haven't called me that. I will stand strong and get the job done. I will see all of this through. Not just Iraq, but all of the other things too. That night, after that scum won, when dad was totally silent, on the verge of tears the whole night, wanting to cry, I could tell, but trying to be strong, trying to be what he hadn't been for four fucking years, that night, he told me, "I WAS a wimp. I played the game, and I worried about the game, and the game ate me." When I decided to run, dad repeated that to me, pretty much word for word, and told me to fuck the game. Pretend to play it. Say what they want to hear, but do exactly what you want. And do it with destruction in mind. Honestly, and God forgive me for saying this, when Mom was giving me that scared look today, I got pissed and felt real revulsion. I will not give into that weakness. That Bush pussy shit has always been the most disgusting part of this family. With Pres, dad, I even see it in Jeb. Turning the other cheek, speaking softly and carrying a big stick. Fuck that. This is the time for real, live action. I'm almost curious to see how the pussies on the left deal with it. Will they find the balls that they chucked years ago and meet me at the line? Nothing so far.