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Bush's Speeches Give Me Motion Sickness
January 30, 2002
by Tyler Durden

I meant to listen to the State of the Union Address; I really did. Mea Culpa: I blew it off. It was either not listen to Bush's voice, or projectile vomit. The funny thing is that it wouldn't have been the content that did me in.

I just can't listen to the pResident's speeches anymore. It's not that they are vacuous and chock-a-block with empty platitudes and glittering corporate generalities, that's a given. Most of us can shut down our intellectual inputs during the ravings of the conservatives. I could listen to Newt Gingrich; sure he made me steam, but I could at least listen to catch where he was planning to screw us next. However, Bush is an entirely different kettle of fish.

When you're a Liberal, sitting through the claptrap speeches of the "Conservative Hero of the Day" is an occupational hazard. You learn to live with it, and hope it is at least perversely entertaining, sort of like watching car chases and wrecks on reality TV. (Come on, admit it; we all watch them occasionally). However, you do assume that any physical illness you experience will be at most metaphorical. But not with me, not any more.

Yes, Bush bores me; and it continues to astound me how anyone with half an education could not be bored with the content of his speeches. They are crafted very well to capture the attention of a 10 year old, and whoever is writing them must be one hell of a technical writer. That's my job, to write to a target audience so that I'm not sailing over their heads, or putting them to sleep. So when I read a transcript of his drivel at my 14 to 16th grade reading level, it shouldn't shock me that Bush's 5-6th grade level text puts me to sleep. That's not what makes me physically nauseous about an actual George Bush speech.

BLAH BLAH BLAH (dramatic pause),
BLAH BLAH BLAH (dramatic pause),
BLAH BLAH BLAH (dramatic pause) AD INFINITUM!!!

Father God and Sonny Jesus, I'm in a car with someone who rides the brake in heavy traffic, constantly slamming me against my literary shoulder harness. It's exactly like riding shotgun with my 80-year-old uncle, who drives like shit. He goes 10 miles an hour over the speed limit all the time, and brakes with his left foot to more effectively ride the ass of the guy ahead of him.

Accelerator, brake.
Accelerator, brake.
Accelerator, brake.

I don't have to exert any effort listening to Bush's speeches for onset of nausea; less than two minutes hearing that ghastly pattern has already given me terminal motion sickness. Who told this guy that a dramatic pause every 4 point 5 seconds is authoritative and presidential? He sounds like a broken record or a smudged CD. I once broke a copy of "Blind Faith" over my knee after the 4th skip on "Sea of Joy": I just couldn't take it.

Call me a Commie. I don't care; listening to Bush's pattern for 4 minutes would have made me lose my lunch, let alone 48 minutes. I'll never listen to a Bush speech again. Just send me the transcript; bulimia is not my thing. How Dick Gephardt made it to his commentary without an air sickness bag is beyond me.

I'll try Dramamine next time, but I'm not holding out a lot of hope.

Tyler Durden is a failed polical candidate in Michigan, who abuses his job as a technical writer to compose political articles as therapy.

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