Tuesday, July 18, 2006

7/19/06 - The Day Alberto Gonzales Got Deported

Senator Arlen Specter looked at the Attorney General and sternly asked "Many other lawyers in the Department of Justice had clearance. Why not OPR?" It was a reasonable question. When an illegal wiretapping program flourishes under the nose of the Justice, someone has to answer some questions.

Alberto looked at him and said "The President of the United States makes decisions about who is ultimately given access."

Upon retuning to his office after the hearing, Alberto found a handwritten letter from the President:

"Dear Gonzo:

This Administration will no longer be requiering your lawyering services. Condi says you don't play for our team no more. And Laura don't like you, and the twins say you ain't kool at all. I wanted to trade you, but there wasn't any offerings. Halliburton don't want you neither, so we are deportating you back to Guatimalla.

Gooder Wishes,

You're Former President, W"

His protests, at that point, did him no good. His own party, particularly Tom Tancredo, rallied against him and sent the Minutemen to escort him all the way from the Potomac to the Rio Grande.

Actually, given his years of service, W intially considered offering deportation transporation in exchange for a promisory note. But Condi realized that it was not a good idea because Gonzo was getting out of the US so they would, more likely, never get the trip fare back.

And thus began the saga of Alberto's adventure. He walked across the desert, traversed The Wall (Which is about ankle height these days, slightly shorter than Hadrian's Wall), swam across the Rio Grande and sang a rousing chorus of Neil Diamond's "They're Coming To America" for the immigration guards as he left the land of the free.


Once he found himself on Latin American soil, he realized something. He had tried so hard to distance himself from all things Hispanic that he had actually forgotten the language. He spoke it about as well as W speaks... Well, English.

He was looking for shelter, a friendly face, and possibly a midget hooker with a donkey. And as luck has it, there was a cantina full of very friendly brown people not too far from the other side of the border.

"Excuse-o me-o", he shouted to the lady behind the bar, showing the "ugly American" ideal that all "furners" understand what you're saying if you speak loudly enough. "Cual is-o the Mexican-o word-o por Tequila? My quiero by-o for-o all them dude-os in da casa."

"Sure, motherfuck-o," replied the lady behind the bar," they all just arrive from Guantanamo this morning and they have been waiting for your ass-o"

And for the second time that day, poor Gonzo found himself in a room full of people expecting answers --willing to do anything to get them...

A Pam and Rick Joint

3 comments:

David Holt said...

In reply to the email: I'll never give that up. And please remind Pam that Margo and I have Grizzlies tickets for her to trade for, but only if her buttons remain intact in the meantime. Sorry, Rick.

Serrabee said...

Hi, just dropping by to tell you that the survey is open for our next blogger bash. Please visit my blog for the link---hope you can make it!

Freedonian said...

I wouldn't miss it for anything, Serrabee. As soon as we set a date for it, I'll start plugging it.