When You Care Enough to Send the Very Best

The economy as a whole may be in the crapper, or headed that way, but I have to think cobblers throughout the world could be seeing a distinct uptick in their line of work. After repeated cycles of Bird Flu hysteria, it's a distinct relief to find ourselves instead in the throes of an apparent international Shoe Fetish pandemic. And, after all, sometimes rediscovering your sense of humor can be key to dealing with fear, perhaps especially of the -mongered variety. OK, yes, there is a legend that whistling a happy tune can also be therapeutic for some, but there is an increased level of difficulty there - not to mention the potential for public shaming if one is musically-challenged.

So I hope you too can get a good chortle or two out of this (h/t faithful reader AM):

This morning, the Rude Pundit decided to honor the efforts of Muntader al-Zaidi, the Iraqi shoe-tosser, by taking out a raggedy old pair of sneakers, putting them in a Priority Mail shipping box, helpfully provided by the United States Post Office, and shipping them to President George W. Bush at the White House. He included a note that read, "This is a farewell kiss from the American people, you dog."

Since throwing objects at the president is generally considered a crime, the Rude Pundit figures sending shoes to Bush is a small, good thing, a gesture of contempt that has context. Sweet Christ, at this point, there should be giant sacks of shoes heading to 1600 Pennsylvania Ave NW, Washington, DC, 20500, like letters to Santa.

The Rude Pundit is not going to hide his fucking glee at the incident. He's not going to "respect the office" or some such shit because Bush doesn't respect it, so fuck him - take a fuckin' shoe in the face - it'll probably be the only punishment our criminal president ever faces in his lifetime. All over America right now, millions of people are thinking the same thing: "About. Fucking. Time." Hell, when you watch the video, you see that the Secret Service barely cares. And you also see Bush smirk, as if thinking, "It's better than the plates Laura flings when she finds my whiskey."

And what's sweeter is that it's the only thing anyone's gonna remember about W's smug little "victory" lap he was trying to take in Iraq and Afghanistan, a trip that was like a rapist trying to get the semen stains out of the carpet before the DNA is found. Instead, the whole thing descended (or ascended, depending on your point of view) into farce, like a smug opera singer ripping a fart while hitting a high note. It was gratifying, no less than he deserved.

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There's a bit more at the link, but I suspect you get the general idea!