From my lips to your ear

Tony Fratto
Deputy White House Press Secretary
 

"I would like for everyone in this room to take a close look at these pictures. These were taken by the Phoenix Mars lander just 48 hours ago, and in case you're not sure what you're looking at, those are rocks. Yes, there are rocks on the surface of Mars. This is the biggest story of a generation, and if the media isn't on it 24/7, it seems to me that would point to a certain antipathy to America's long legacy of freedom and exploration. " - Not a statement from Tony Fratto, no way Jose.

Hey, those words didn't come from this guy, they sure as shit weren't from the script of me, Tony Fratto, the President's Deputy White House Press Secretary, or as I like to call myself, The Tough Guy's Tough Guy.

No, those words came from George W Bush, speaking at last night's multi-million dollar fund-raiser for John McCain. I mean, Jesus Christ, you've got to ask yourself, what the hell is the president doing talking about a bunch of rocks at the same time that his administration is coming under attack by that dangerous lying scumbag Scott McClellan, perhaps the very worst press secretary since Ari Fleischer? The man makes babe/bitch/boss Dana look competent by comparison, and for that reason alone I'm consigning him to the seventh circle of Tony Fratto's personal hell.

You know, I wrote about that punk-ass motherfucker and his 'so-called expose' months ago, and nothing has changed in this world since then other than McClellan's bullshit getting older and staler and harder to swallow. And yet, And yet, the man is devouring today's news cycle with his rehashing of yesterday's papers. Hey, want some news? Hitler invades Poland, there you go. Dewey beats Truman, how's that for news?

I guess it's been a long time since I've written a new 'From my lips to your ear' column, and, I guess, nobody much cares. Well you know what, people, I don't care either. The blonde bitch drowned me out and shut me down, kind of surprising for a Bush spokes-puppet (not me), but then... but then... I'm not bitter.

I'm watching Hannity and Colmes last night, trying to relax, and there's Karl Fucking Rove playing invasion of the body snatchers. Oh dear, that doesn't sound like Scott, no no, not the Scotty-boy I know and love. It sounds like somebody else, like some crazy left wing blogger, blah blah blah.

I almost choked on my beer. Hey, Turd Blossom, it sounds exactly like McClellan to me. Who the hell have you been listening to for the past twelve months, asshole? It sure as hell wasn't me!

Oh wait! I know! You've been listening to my empty-headed bleach-blonde boss, Dana 'Let-me-explaina' Perino, the official White House eye-candy. She's soooo very sad.

"Scott," she says in that weepy-ass whine of hers, "Scott, we now know is disgruntled about his experience at the White House." Bitch! I knew that ages ago, I read that man like a book, but what do they do, first they pass me over for Tony Snow, and then skip me over for your pathetically mewling worthless shit skill set.

"We are puzzled," says Blondielocks. "It is sad - this is not the Scott we knew." Oh Jesus, please still my hand before I use it to rip out my own aorta.

I'm feeling a little disgruntled myself today. I guess that once again it's up to me - Mister Loyal - to  have to support the tower of power that is the presidency. And I will do it, because that is just the way I am.

So let me just say this - the discovery of rocks on Mars is the most astounding advance in human knowledge to occur in the past century, if not longer. It shakes to the very essence what it means to be exist in this vast universe, and the very fact that this story is not receiving round the clock press attention is yet another reason to turn away from the superficiality that is the mainstream media and put your faith instead in the man upstairs.

Well, not upstairs exactly, but down the corridor in the West Wing. Take it from me. After all, I'm Tony Fratto, Deputy White House Press Secretary, not a man to be trifled with. And not a bitter man. Fuck all of you.


 

2008, Mark Hoback