Speaking of Babs, what a crusty old lady. And I identify with her 100%, I'm afraid. I remember not believing my eyes when I read that, one Mother's Day back in the '90s, when an admirer asked her if he could give her a Mother's Day card, she ripped into him and told him, "Of course not. I'm not your mother. Give a card to your own mother."Now I understand. Graves' disease empties one of tolerance for silliness.
So, in honor of that old crab, I am compiling a list of my favorite Barbara Bushisms. I don't agree with her politics, but I have to hand it to her, putting up with all that nonsense from the Great Unwashed. And for staying married and not having car accidents, either.
Oh, wait. She has a chauffeur. Smedley or Rochester, or something like that.
Anyhow, tell it as it is, Babs! 'Cause it's late, you're tired, you're shaky, cross-eyed and sweating bullets, and who really gives a shit, right?
- Clinton lied. A man might forget where he parks or where he lives, but he never forgets oral sex, no matter how bad it is.
- I just don't like having an almost 60-year-old white-haired son.
- I married the first man I ever kissed. When I tell this to my children, they just about throw up.
- It's been different. I started driving again. I started cooking again. My driving's better than my cooking.
- My son, George, has been a bad, bad boy! Right, George?
- One thing I can say about George... he may not be able to keep a job, but he's not boring.
- What I'm hearing, which is sort of scary, is they all want to stay in Texas. Everybody is so overwhelmed by the hospitality. And so many of the people in the arena here, you know, were underprivileged anyway—this, this is working very well for them.
- Why should we hear about body bags and death? It's not relevant. So why should I waste my beautiful mind on something like that?
- I can't say it, but it rhymes with rich.
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