Bird Day

Gobble, gobble, Bush. It's that day again. Daydreaming in bed this morning (and giving thanks, of course!) I found myself thinking about birds--in the context of your current predicament, that is: in the early days, I watched you preening like a peacock, and swooping to the attack like a rapacious hawk (or a thieving magpie.) I hesitate to mention the dreaded chicken, but the truth is I've always sensed that scattered presence behind the rooster's strut. It's a toss-up, of course, whether you choose to crow (then)or are maybe forced to eat it (now). We understand that you were gulled by your pee-wit intelligence, whose lies you and your people parroted endlessly to the nattering flock of us American sparrows. In this, you were undoubtedly egged on by your vulture of a vice-president and your popinjay (erstwhile) national security adviser. Anyway, you've ended up a sitting duck for the critics of your war and--do I dare to hope?--a lame one. Watch out, Bush, or your goose is cooked. Then we'd all give thanks. Meanwhile, though, have a happy Turkey Day. Cheep cheep.