Der Decidermeister 

An Opera in Four Acts on the Unlikely Rise and Ignominious Fall of George W. Bush

Act One

Overture (any mediocre, banal music will do. Perhaps something by Toby Keith or Yanni?)

Curtain rises on George Bush as a young man in his Texas Air Guard uniform, cavorting with a bottle of Jack Daniels in one hand and a tightly-rolled twenty-dollar bill in the other. He sings (tune of “I’m Just A Girl Who Can’t Say No”):


I’m just an aim-less rich boy drunk,

skat-ing on Daddy’s good naaaame.

At heart I’m nothing but a punk,

play-ing a fake grown-up gaaaame.

George puts on mortar-board with tassel dangling in his face.


I pretend I am a Yalie, learning biz-nuss stuff.

But even my ‘C’ av-er-age is com-pli-men-t’ry fluff.

I haven’t learned a damn thing but how to tap a keg, you see?

I only got to Yale because I was a leg-a-cy.

Repeats refrain and trades mortar board for a flight helmet.

I pretend that I’m a pilot, training for Veet Nam

But no way I’m really going there, ‘cause I’m a gonna scram

Trades flight helmet for a Texas Rangers baseball cap.

I pretend I am a C-E-O, but everything I own

goes promptly down the crapper; I can’t count the deals I’ve blown.

I’m just an aimless rich boy drunk,

skating on…

Repeat refrain and fade music. As lights dim; heavenly center stage spot light tightens on George. God, unseen and in sotto voce, sings (tune of “You Are So Beautiful”):

You are the chosen one, by meeee.

You are my special son, you’ll seeee.

I got big plans for you, kid. With my help you’ll go far.

You are the chosen one, Georg-eeee.

George hangs drunkenly onto center stage light pole and sings (tune of “Maria”):

I’m spe-shul.

God talked to me so I am spe-shul.

And suddenly I think, I’ll never have a drink, a-giiiin.

Bush slowly strips off Air Guard uniform, revealing Texas governor’s duds beneath. Still in the heavenly spotlight, he sits at his governor’s desk and twiddles his thumbs. God sings: (“You Are So Beautiful”):

I’ll make you president, my son.

The White House resident, it’s done.

Bill Clinton is all white trash, a boner with a brain

Now don’t be hesitant, just run.

Bush sings (“Maria”):

I’m run-ning.

God told me to run so I’m run-ning

I’ll show it to my dad, that I am not so bad, as Jeeeeb

Lightening flashes. Thunder rumbles. In big voice, God sings (tune of “Hit the Road, Jack”):


Stick with me, George,

And don’t you think twice no more, no more, no more, no more.

Stick with me, George.

And don’t you think twice no more.


Don’t matter you don’t know squat,

It don’t matter that you’re dumb

The only thing that matters

Is you’re not that Clinton crumb

So what if everything you’ve done

Has ended in the tank?

Once you are the president,

Won’t matter you’re a wank.

Stick with me, George,

And don’t you think twice no more, no more, no more, no more…

Bush does clumsy shuffle as God repeats refrain. Lights come up and scene changes to the Oval Office. Chorus of prominent neo-cons, evangelicals and oil men enters and sings (tune of “The Yellow Rose of Texas”):

Ooooh, he crawled up out of Crawford

And he beat up John McCain.

He bragged on his com-pas-sion

And pre-ten-ded he had brains

He floated to the top of

Our sac-red Gee Ooh Pee

And by the big con-ven-tion

Was our ho-ly nom-in-ee.

Repeat several times while George does a square dance dosy-do with Dick Cheney as Karl Rove does the King Tut dance in background. Then music ritards, lights dim, and chorus drifts off to the task of dismantling the government, leaving Jeb Bush, Katherine Harris and Al Gore off to one side. While J. Bush and K. Harris perform a clumsy waltz behind a white scrim and back lighting projects their grotesquely distorted shadows onto the scrim, a pensive Al Gore sings (tune of “Edelweiss”):


Flooo-ri-daaah, Flooo-ri-daaah.

That’s the scene of the cri-ime

hanging chads, hung out blacks.

Harris should have done tiiiime.


Then it went to the S’preme Coooourt…

San-dra Day O-Cooon-nerrrr.

I was had, Bush won, egad!

America’s covered in sliiiime.

Curtain closes.

• • •

Act Two

Curtain rises. With Dick Cheney in background doing pirouettes and handing buckets of cash off to high-kicking chorus line of cronies, Bush sings (tune of “I Feel Pretty”):


I like tax cuts! Great big tax cuts!

I like giving big breaks to my friends!

Fat cats need me.

Can you pic-ture them with hooon-est jobs?

(Chorus: goodness gracious no no no nooooo, no no!)

Trick-le trick-le! Down-y down-y!

I like trickling down on the rest!

Work-ing class, pshaw!

Can you not see that they aaall are slobs!

(Chorus: Goodness gracious yes yes yes yessssss, yes yes!)


Regulation is for the un-i-ons. (yes! yes! yes! yes!)

Ronnie Reagan had it just right!. (oh, so so right!)

Let the markets work, let the rich get more,

Let Ken Lay behave, like a drunken whooooooooore!

I like tax cuts! More, more tax cuts!

It’s the on-ly pol-ic-y I got!

I’ll throw cash, (yes! yes! yes!)

To my class! (yes! yes! yes!)

And I’ll never, no never, get cauuuuuuuught!

Repeat of refrain is abruptly interrupted by off-stage explosion, smoke and fire effects, people screaming. George takes seat on tiny elementary school chair, surrounded by a children’s choir. A man whispers into his ear. He sings reflectively, in his head, where no one else can hear him (tune of “Eres Tu”):


Myyyy Peeeet Gooooat.

Wish they’d had this book at Ya-le

Myyyy Peeeet Goh-oh-oat,

This plot I get ree-yal well.


That guy told me something ‘bout attack, some-thing, some-thing.

I pro-bab-ly should have list-ened beeeet-ter

So I will just sit here and keep read-in’ to these kids

I'm not a half-bad bay-bee-ee seeeet-ter

Children’s chorus joins George in singing final refrain:

Myyyy Peeeet Gooooat,

Helps me ig-nore this dumb criiii-sis

Myyyy Peeeet Goh-oh-oat

If only all books were like thiiiis.

Choir exits stage, leaving no child behind, while George takes position at Oval Office desk, addressing the nation in prime time, and sings (tune of “Onward Christian Soldiers”):


Onward to Bagh-daaaad we head, bombing as we goooo.

Killing Afghans waaaas fun, laid them Tal-bans loooow.

But my taste for blood has grown, didn’t get e-nough.

So in-to I-yi-raq we march, I’ll show Sad-dam who’s tough.


I don’t care if my Vee-ee Pee-ee fed you packs of lies.

I don’t care if there is not, a dubya-em-dee in sight.

I just want to show my pop that I am ser-i-ous,

That I’m not a silly shit, and not a Frenchy wuss.

Chorus of Condoleeza Rice, Colin Powell, Dick Cheney, George Tenet, Ari Fletcher, Karl Rove, Scooter Libby, et al, march in and take up position behind George. All sing:

Onward to Baghdad we-ee he-ead, let Al Qaed-a beeee.

Didn’t catch bin Laaah-den, doesn’t bother meeee.

Osama ain’t the wuuurst-est one, a-sides he won’t get faaaar.

Got to send Sad-dam to Hell, a-fore he’s nuc-yew-laaaahr.

Chorus hums refrain while George changes into flight suit. He struts back and forth across the stage as though he just landed a fighter jet and is working his boxer shorts out of his fanny crack. George sings (tune of “I wish I Were An Oscar Meyer Wiener):


Ooooh, the mission is acc-om-plished, I’m the win-ner

That is all I’ve ev-er wished to be-ee-ee.

We kicked their ass while I was eating din-ner.

Now we can make all them A-rabs freeee.


Them coward-ly’ turr-ists think they are so stud-ly

I just say to them ‘Yeah, bring it oooon.”

We’ll Abu-Graib their butts from here to Mon-day,

And shoot them in the head ‘til they’re all goooone.

Chorus of security team is joined by neo-cons, prominent Religious Right figures and entire Republican National Committee who spread rose petals before George as he exits. Entire company sings “God Bless America” (tune of “God Bless America”) as lights dim and entr’-acte starts.

• • •


Go get yourself a plastic cups of wine. And use the restroom. Then hurry back.

• • •

Act Three

Curtain rises on Bush in helicopter, looking out a window at the devastation in New Orleans. Again in his head where no one else can hear him, George sings, reprising “My Pet Goat” (“Eres tu”):

Myyyy Peeeet Gooooat,

Wish I had that book here wiiiith meeee.

I’m so boh-oh-r’d,

Wouldn’t mind something to-oo read.

They told me-ee some-thing ‘bout a storm, Kah-tree-some-thing.

I pro-bab-ly should have list-ened beeeet-ter.

But what am I s’posed to do ‘bout it, an-y-waa-ay?

I not in charge of the weeeea-ther.

Myyyy Peeeet Gooooat,

Helps me ig-nore all my truuuu-blings.

Myyyy Peeeet Goh-oh-oat,

I can read it with out muuuum-bling.

Set changes to typical staged event, with lots of American flags and backdrop with some slogan or catch-phrase written on it over and over. Angry whispers are heard from off-stage, but George ignores them as he skips from photo-op to photo-op, handing out ribbons and medals to dozens of fawning sycophants. He sings (tune of “Consider Yourself”):

A heck of a job, Brown-eeee.

And you, Hair-yet Miers, S’preme Court ma-ter-i-al.

Al-bert am-i-goooo, hey you!

Donde gonna este my new ‘ttorn-y gen-er-ral.

The angry whispers from stage-left wing grow increasingly louder. They are hard to make out, but key words and phrases ring out glaringly clear.



1000 DEAD!

George continues to sing (“Consider Yourself”):

Great work over there, Rum-mee.

You’ll have ‘em I-raq-ers, handin’ out flowers to us

George Ten-et, m’ man, well done!

Couldn’t o’ gotten much bet-ter in-tell-i-gous!

From off-stage:




2000 DEAD!

George continues:

John Bol-ton, hey dude, you rock!

The best-est ev-errrr, U.N. Am-bass-a-dooor.

And Miss Condy-Rice, so smart!

Bet see-in’ her with me still makes ol’ Co-lin sooore.

Still from off-stage, but now too loud to ignore:




3000 DEAD!

As Bush continues sluffing about and patting his appointments on the back, mixed chorus of newly-awakened reporters rub their eyes and begin singing ( reprise tune of “Yellow Rose of Texas,” only with a elegiac, ominous feel in a minor key):

Oh, Bush goes crawlin’ back to Crawford

Whenever things get bad.

He uses more vacation days

Than bin Laden has Jihads.

He’s losing friends and allies,

And his polls are in the pit.

If he bot-ches one more thing, we swear,

His leg’cy’s not worth shit.

Bush ends up at press conference podium and sings (tune of “Let’s Call the Whole Thing Off”):

You say I-raq failed, and I say we won.

You say there’s torture, and I say there’s none.

Wa-ter! Board-ing!

Schma-ter! Schmoarding!

I get my way, so there!

You say the globe warms, and I say it aren’t

You say no wire taps, but I need no warr’nt


Hab-yus! Cor-pus!

Schmab-yus! Schmor-pus!

I get my way, so there!

From all wings now:




4000 DEAD!

Unfazed, Bush goes on:

I’m the de-ci-der, and you have t’ doo’t

I plant the seed, and yaw’ll reap the fruit

Congressional! Over-sight!

Schmongressional! Schmover-sight!

I get my way, so there!

You say I’m stew-pid, and I say...

Aria is abruptly interrupted by off-stage crash, masses of worthless paper blowing in the wind, people screaming. Chorus of desperate investment bankers, auto industry executives and Wall Street brokers sing (tune of “Heatwave”):

We’re having a melt-doooown.

A stock market melt-doooown.

With Fannie and Freddie,

Bear-Stearns and A-I-Gee.

A world-class! Melt-down!

With no reg-u-la-tiooon

Came hou-sing in-fla-tiooon.

Then pop goes the bub-ble,

And now we’re in trou-ble

A world-class! Melt-down!

With trembling voice, Bush sings (reprising tune of “I Wish I Were An Oscar Meyer Wiener”):

Oooh, I haven’t got a clue to what will fix this.

All I know is that it ain’t my faah-ah-ault.

I’m countin’ on Hen-ry Paul-son to lick this,

Bring to this fis-cal mess a scree-ching halt.

Ever-growing chorus, now including small business owners and working Americans sings (“Heatwave”):

GM is a-sink-ing

Ford’s profits are stink-ing

Fore-clo-sures are up and

our cars come from Jap-an.

A world class! Melt-down!

The jobs are a-leav-ing.

The e-con-o-my’s heav-ing.

If things don’t change real fast

This na-tion may not last.

A world-class! Melt-down!

With his back to the ever-growing chorus, George sings (“… Oscar Meyer Wiener”):

We bailed the banks a whole shit-load o’ mon-eeey.

Hop-in’ it would trick-le down to you.

But look-in’ back I think it’s kind o’ fun-neeey,

That all you got was screwed blue and tatt-oed.

Now grown to 70-percent-plus of all Americans, the chorus sings (reprise of “Consider Yourself):

We made a mis-take, with you!

And look where we are, now that you’ve had your way.

We need a mass-ive, res-cue!

Who could have known you’d be such a horr-’ble flop?

We’ve had it with you, George Bush!

We think you’re a fool, a hu-mong-ous nin-com-poop.

Now get out o’ town, you douch,

And make way for O-bam-a to clean up your slop.

Music transitions, accelerandoes, and entire chorus sings (tune of “Oklahoma”):

Doooooo-Oh! You dick-head, you are worse than Her-bert Hoo-oo-ver!

The wind blows clear, between your ears.

We’re em-barr-assed that we vo-ted fooor you.

Al Gore and John Kerry leap out from chorus line making the peace sign.


Chorus continues:

Doooooo-Oh! We wish Ba-rack could get to work before you’re gone!

You are such a dope, we sin-cere-ly hope.

That from here on we just can ig-nooore you.

We’re hated world-wide ‘cause of Bush!

Wish we could kick him out on his tush!

Doooooo-Oh! Take Cheney with you!

Doooooo-Oh! Let’s dump his whole crew!

Don’t let the door hit your duuumb ass,

When you’re leaving,

George Bush! Dub! Ya! Don’t for-get, Lau-ra!

Now be gooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooone! Whew!

Curtain falls.

• • •

Act Four

Curtain rises on George, entirely alone except for a small black dog on a leash, shambling through the empty halls of the West Wing. He sings (tune of “Where Have All The Flowers Gone?”):

Where has l’il Turd Blossom gone?

Long time, no-oo see.

Where has Hair-yet Mi-ers gone?

And where’s Che-ney?

Where did Al Gonzales go?

To duck in-dict-ments all a-row.

How long ‘til hist-o-reee,

Proves that I’m noooot, a dope?

Song transitions (reprise of “Maria”) and Bush sings:

What hap-pened?

They liked me at first, but what hap-pened?

Now sud-den-ly they think, I am a hope-less dink, Barn-eeee.

Dog barks and tries to pull away.

What hap-pened?

God gave me this job, so what hap-pened?

Where is God, an-y-way? He said that he would stay, with meeee?

God, unseen, sings (reprise of “You Are So Beautiful”):

You’re not the man I thought, you were.

I mixed you up with aaaa, no-ther.

The George Bush I thought was next has, never been to Tex-as.

Your not the one I’d choose, f’r sure.

Barney gets loose and runs away. As the stage goes to dark, George is left standing alone in ever-tightening spotlight. He sings, plaintively (tune of Barbra Streisand’s “Papa Can You Hear Me?”)

Daddy can you hear me?

I miss Kennebunkport.

Daddy can I moooove…


Spotlight blinks out.

Curtains close.


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