Still Time to Bushwhack, Ladies!

 Back in the '60's (the sixties.. not mine.  My '60's were in the eighties; I was in my forties in the '60's...got it?) I jumped headlong into the womens' lib movement and burned my bras with the rest of my free-spirited sisters. (Of course, my boobs were a lot perkier then, so it was more a matter of principle than uplift). In any case, it has become obvious to me that just as the Viet Nam war galvanized us into gestures of contempt for government policies, the current malfeasance of the Peabrain in Chief should be equally recognized with some dramatic tabloid headline-worthy raunch.

So this time, instead of immolating underwear, I think we should make a more direct statement.  Since a bush is a Bush when it isn't a Dick, I think that by literally divesting ourselves of our personal short and curlies and entrusting them to the USPS, we might send  an unmistakable message to 1600 Pennsylvania Ave.  Return addresses should read: BUSHLESS AT LAST!

As a followup, all of us who have joined the movement should display our solidarity by a large-scale scratch-in (you know it's going to itch like hell), preferably on the steps of the Capitol Building. The public crotch-scratch could then become a sort of sorority handshake as well as a group obscene gesture.  There would be women of all ages greeting each other on the streets of America by a symbolic (and necessary) groin-grab, signifying our mutual bushless state to our sisters in arms.  Gloria Steinem would be so proud!

Personally, I love the mental picture of bags and bags of pubic hair being delivered to the White House, rather like a skanky version of "Miracle on 34th Street".  And, although my own area already bears a close resemblance to Vic Mackey's head, I'd be willing to pluck the few remaining strands to add to the collection, in aid of the cause.

Additionally, we will issue bumper stickers reading SCRATCH IF YOU'RE BUSHLESS and display them proudly on every highway in the country, thereby uniting pedestrians and riders alike under one glorious Bush-less umbrella.

For at bottom, nothing is more patriotic than the naked truth.