From Welcome to Pottersville:

Light finally dawned on Marble Head.

After two long years, 1800 deaths and a billion dollars officially wasted, our Preznit who’s more synonymous with corpses (despite never going to the funeral of an Iraq war casualty), rubble and general, run-of-the-mill devastation than any other is at last getting the hang of this hurricane season thingie. Because days before Hurricane Dean even hit the Gulf Coast, George Bush declared a state of emergency for 32 Texas counties, proving to a worried America that, no Virginia, pre-emptive compassionate conservatism isn-t quite dead.

What a change from two years ago, when Bush was spanked by the three furies named Katrina, Rita and Wilma as he licked cake frosting off his hand and learned his first redneck guitar chord (the more bitter wags among us may venture “Walking on Sunshine.”).

And, to our enduring shame, no one wanted to risk a dirty look or a rude, premature exit courtesy of the Secret Service to whisper in the birthday’suited emperor’s ear, “Psst. People are drowning and FEMA’s scarcer than Osama bin Laden. What the fuck are you doing here?”

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