Bush Derangement Syndrome

I'll freely admit I suffer from Bush Derangement Syndrome. I think George W. Bush was the worst president of my lifetime, which began in the closing days of the Truman administration. Mr. Bush finished his career with a comfortable lead over first runner up Richard Nixon.

But I was prepared, and, in fact, eager to move on after the election of Barack Obama. I saw no reason to keep stomping on the hapless boob who survived eight years in the White House on nothing more than swagger and talkin' Texan t'folks.

But just about 72 hours ago, Navy SEALS raided the compound of terrorist leader Osama bin Laden and killed him. And even though it was Bush who blew off warnings of the imminent World Trade Center/Pentagon attack, telling a CIA official, "All right, you've covered your ass now," before leaving the intelligence briefing unread on a coffee table to go fishing; even though it was Bush who, upon learning of the attack, spent ten minutes pretending to read "The Pet Goat" while the gears in his brain tried to process the political implications of his monumental fuckup; even though it was Bush who had bin Laden cornered at Tora Bora but let him slip through, we now have Republican sycophants claiming that Bush deserves the credit for bin Laden's death.

It must have been Bush, because Bush, after all, was the rich white guy who had the cowboy hat and boots, the pickup truck and the movie-set 'ranch' in Texas — not that uppity colored fella from Kenya or Hawaii or Illinois or wherever he's from.

Bush deserves credit for killing bin Laden about the same way an arsonist deserves credit for the fire department putting out his fire.