Today is the last day of George Walker Bush's presidency. I have not been particularly kind to the President during his administration, and it is near certain history will remember him as one of, if not the, worst President in America's history. And so I am more than happy to see him go. He will soon disappear from the headlines, surround himself with sycophants and live out the life of an elder statesmen.

Yet it could have been so much worse. He was the first President to introduce a worthwhile AIDS prevention program in Africa. A year or two ago I thought he would bomb Iran on his way out of office. Instead he seems to have sunk an Israeli plan to do something futile. He has done a good job of co-operating with the incoming Obama administration.

The man isn't really evil. Dubya is merely a lightweight. Had he hired a non-ideological staff he might have enjoyed an average presidency. He was in over his head and trusted the wrong people. He isn't the first President so ill-served. Ulysses S. Grant also hired the wrong people. An even better comparison is Warren G. Harding who preferred playing cards to governing. The biggest difference was that Grant and Harding's flunkies were primarily interested in enriching themselves at the public expense. Bush's were interested in ideological purity. Unfortunately, ideologues are far more dangerous people than the merely greedy.

So goodbye George Walker Bush. We won't miss you a bit. I hope you live long and at peace. I also hope that some day that despite all the flatterers that someday you will come to understand just what you have done, and what kind of man you really are. Given your nature, that's probably the cruelest possible punishment for you.

If my memory of childhood Bible school serves me correctly, Jonah was in the whale for three days and three nights. It's been way longer than that for me. Worse than the darkness and the digestive fluid and the pulsing of the walls is the feeling that I'm getting that no one really misses me. No one even made much of a fuss when, as I was lying on the beach minding my own business, this huge fish leaps out of the water, casting a shadow on the whole beach, and then devours me like a starving man at McDonald's and leaves. Why is no one trying to find me?

I don't look that bad in a bathing suit, do I?

Today, I wake up from the dream.

And it would seem the real world is better.

Euphoria, mild vertigo, butterflies in my stomach.

A rush of whatever hormones do this.

I wanted to lie down, close my eyes, listen to “Give me a kiss to build a dream on” by Louis Armstrong while falling asleep. Preferably in her arms.

It is a truly damnable thing that instead I stayed after school to sit through a lecture 90 minutes long on economics. It is merely mildly damnable that I learned nothing new.

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