A Stiff Drink (or Ten) for Bush's Last Day
- President George W. Bush at his final press conference, 1.12.09
This is the most self-aware statement our soon-to-be former president has ever uttered. Not only because he was willing to make a joke about his alcoholism. This was also the closest George W. Bush has ever come to using irony properly.
He's a teetotaler, yet the last eight years have driven so many of us to drink.
Tomorrow, more than a few Americans will toast the inauguration of Barack Obama. Today, I submit we drink to the man he will be replacing. Or, rather, we drink to forget. Winning with an assist from the Supreme Court. Squandering the world's good will -- and a war in Afghanistan -- after September 11th. Misleading us into war with Iraq. Abu Gharib and Guantanamo Bay and domestic surveillance. Eating cake while New Orleans drowned.
That's a lot of memories to obliterate. And a Mind Eraser alone won't do the trick. After the jump, a few suggestions to get you started.
Of course, Hussein's fall and eventual death didn't end the war in Iraq. So chase that Absolut Zero with a Death Everywhere: vodka, creme de cacao, creme de menthe and cream. Or perhaps what we like to call a Baghdad Car Bomb (a.k.a. the Improvised Explosive Device): It's just like an Irish Car Bomb except, while you're chugging it, someone sneaks up behind you and smashes a beer bottle across the back of your head.
Don't think we've forgotten about you, Vice President Cheney. After 9/11 we'd have to cross over into the "Dark Side," you said. We'll drink to that. Specifically, we'll drink one of our own creations, the Water Bored: two shots of Everclear chased with an entire jug of spring water.
It's tempting to dwell on Iraq and the Global War on Terror, yet Bush's entire foreign policy was such a clusterfuck that it must be addressed. Take Russia. Bush looked into Putin's eye and saw...a KGB apparatchik turned petrodollar-fueled neo-tsar? Not until he wanted to put missiles in Poland, at least. If thoughts of a new Cold War give you the howling fantods, try a Moscow Mule.
Yes, you should have a Hurricane. And a little something we like to call the Heckuva Job Brownie: one part each vodka, Godiva liqueur and Hershey's syrup. Shoot it, gag and then tell everyone that it tastes just fantastic!
But for those looking to sum up the past eight years as quickly as possible, we suggest the Flaming Asshole followed by the Adios, Motherfucker.