Well I never! Though perhaps I ought to start because this…this…oh I am one rankled RoveHo! I'm usually so very good about keeping my trap shut (especially since Rovey has the only key to it and we're fresh out of Metamucil and bacon grease, so it's not like I can get to it anytime soon), but Mrs. Laura is just asking for a tongue lashing 'cause she made my Blubblenumpers so upset that he couldn't even choke down his fifth helping of scrapple pot pie at dinner last night. At first I figured that maybe I just hadn't mixed in as much Funyons and Karo syrup as he likes, and the first four bowls were just my sweet baby being polite. But then he asked to be excused so he could go and have some quiet time in his Gingrich room, and I *knew* something was wrong, 'cause he didn't even take a sponge with him! And sure enough, when I flipped on the Roveitron, there was my Puddleblumpkins in a soggy little heap on his beanbag chair, weeping and sticking ripped bits of newspaper all over his sweet, limpet-pale skin.
I scuttled as fast as I could to my bawling baby, and as he collapsed in a sob-steamy lump into my lap, I peeled one of the scraps of paper from his back, and between the whiteheads, the smeary ink read…
In a nearly hourlong interview with The New York Times on Thursday, Mrs. Bush … characterized Karl Rove, her husband's chief political adviser, as not as powerful as "the chattering class" believes.
"I would say his role is definitely overstated, but he probably loves it," she said, smiling. "He's very happy to have his role overstated."
Silly, silly Mrs. Laura. The only thing I can think is that she must have had that chat on a day when she had her mid-day pick-up Cuervotinis with her advisors Eli and Lilly (I've never met them, but I hear they're very influential members of her staff. She doesn't make a single decision without listening to them.), and forgot she was wearing the low-dose HappyPatch. Otherwise, how could she possibly make a statement like that? Who does she think convinces her hubby that no, he won't look more "impressive" at Cabinet meetings if he wears a sheriff's badge, and while it might be fun for him and Mr. Hastert to press up against the window of Marine One and moon EMILY's List gatherings, giving Ellen Malcolm a peek at their well-toned tushies doesn't count as standing up for the lady voters. I swear, if Rovey hadn't slipped those subliminals into his boss's Tae Bo tapes, I'll just bet he would have forgotten the safety phrases and spilled the beans about his and Uncle Cheney's new Baghdad Oil-musement Park & Bible Study Spa when he was chatting with Mr. Russert on Sunday. Sigh…my Rovey - he gives so much and asks so little - just a little derrick and a few humble acres on the outskirts of Halliburtonia. Maybe a camel or two so he and Mr. Norquist can ride off and have their male bonding flute circles in private.
Just you keep your silly tequila hole closed, Mrs. Laura, or you'll have one cheesed-off RoveHo to deal with!