Domestic Violence in the White House

We know that one in three families is plagued by domestic violence because outfits that make their livings off domestic violence have told us so. In light of this awful statistic, shouldn’t we expect that, over the years, 13 or 14 of our presidential couples would have been affected by this most American of scourges?

Ask yourself, have you ever seen a picture of President Bush in a bathing suit? And if not, why not? Do you really believe he putsĀ· on all those tight collars and long-sleeved jackets just because he enjoys feeling sweaty and constricted? Or, could it be that he needs to hide the bruises?

And what about the jeans and drab jackets he wears around the ranch – even in front of important foreigners? Is somebody doling out his money bit by bit to keep him impoverished and dependent?

For that matter, do most men work at home? Or is the “office” in the White House one more sign of an abused husband kept under the watchful eye of a controlling spouse?

And, when he does get out, is he ever alone? Or is he always shadowed by large gentlemen “for his own good”?

Most of all, isn’t Laura Bush right-handed?

Doesn’t that mean her fist would almost certainly catch him on the cheek just under his left eye?

And as for the bruise on his left cheek, just under the eye, that he sported in mid-January, don/t you think it odd he was “alone” at the time – while Laura was in an “adjoining” room? Isn’t that always the way when somebody winds up unconscious on the floor?

And it all happened while he was watching football – the very situation in which the National Organization of Women has warned us that the risk of domestic violence is the greatest.

Usually the stories that battered spouses tell to protect their abusers are just sad. But the president’s excuse was more than sad – it was a pathetic cry for help.

Somewhere, in his unconsciousness, he must have known that if he just claimed he’d walked into a door, people would believe him. So he came up with the thing about jabbing a pretzel into a vagus nerve and passing out. I put it to you, could George W. Bush even find a vagus nerve – even with a flashlight and a copy of Grey’s Anatomy to steer by?

Could you? What could be more of a tip-off that something was desperately wrong in the Bush household than this obviously trumped-up explanation?

Then, the next day he bravely tried to joke the whole thing off – while giving a speech about how the focus of his administration is to make sure “we never get hit again.” What is he trying to tell us here?

What other indignities is he being subjected to? Does Laura belittle him in private? Does she threaten to leave? Does she tell him that he’d never be able to make it on his own? Is he forced to submit to nights of ritual humiliation to satisfy the twisted lust of this so-called”first lady”?

Why, finally, hasn’t a caring community risen up and demanded that this violence against presidents stop?

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