Today's study: The White House Subpoenas and Yung Joc. Just imagine George Bush rapping this. It makes it go down easier. Trust me.
Meet me at the White House. IT'S GOIN' DOWWWNNNN.
Meet me in the Senate. IT'S GOIN' DOWWWNNNN.
Cheney's office club. IT'S GOIN' DOWWWNNNN.
Anywhere ya meet me guaranteed to go down.
Ooh, I think they hate me. Better yet, I know.
Diss my 'ministration? Have fun in Guantanamo.1
Protectin' my crew from the cold, hard bars,2
Stonewallin' y'all over Harriet Meirs.
Cheney got my back,
Gonzales does too.
Shit mothafucka, we jus' wanted ta snoop.
If ya got a problem, say it to my face.3
We can knuckle up any time any place. 4
1 Hyperbole, aka not necessarily true.
2 It's funny because it's a double entendre. Jail bars and lawyers...anyone?
3 These last two lines are the actual lyrics. In fact, they're the reason I chose this song.
4 ...Except in court as was formally requested. Executive priviledge, bee-yotch.
See? That wasn't so bad, was it? You learned something, right? You have the minimum required knowledge to become either incensed or amused. And rap is so fashionable. I think I may have found the way to get political news to the younger generation.
IT'S GOIN' DOWWWWNNNNNNNN.
In completely unrelated news, this is probably the best headline I've seen in months: Red panties don't cross the white-line of Wimbeldon.
Finally. Someone in the news got a little snarky. And they used the word panties. Props. Today is clearly a day for news-visionaries. A new journalism is dawning!
ETA: Bugger! They changed it because the referee let her play, red underbriches and all. Except it's still on the very top of my browser, and the lead sentence is still "Wimbledon is getting its knickers in a twist." Well done.