"P.S. No More Public Scatology"

P.S. No more public scatology

That bizarre entreaty appears in a 1997 note from then Gov. George W.Bush to future Supreme Court nominee Harriet Miers.

The Smoking Gun has posted 18 pages of correspondence between Bush and Miers back when they were both in Texas. Check 'em out here.

Speaking of public scatology (whatever the fuck that is): Which recent president called his missus "Mommie Poo Pants" in letters? Scroll down here for the answer.

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  • John||

    Maybe he thinks scatology is what be-bop jazz singers do.

  • Tim Cavanaugh||

    My guess is that he meant to write eschatology. No joke (nor, since many people mix up these words, insult to the Prez's intellect) intended: I actually think that was the source of the mixup.

  • ||

    "Speaking of public scatology (whatever the fuck that is)"

    I believe that was one of gg allin's trademarks.

  • ||

    Option 1: He meant "eschatology," and wanted her to keep her End Times theorizing private.

    Option 2: She cusses like a sailor, and he wants her to keep a lid on it.

    Option 3: She cut the cheese in his office one too many times.

  • ||

    Joe, you beat me too it.

    I suppose 3 would be forgivable, but either way it looks like 1 or 2 is likely...and a bit scary!

  • ||

    Maybe she was making too many poop jokes?

  • ||

    Tim's theory makes sense, but mine is more fun.

  • ||

    Nope, I take it back. I just looked at the card where GWB wrote this line.

    Seems that another possibility is that Miers had warned GW about scatalogical humor (Turd Blossom, anyone?) and he was assuring her that he was going to lay off.

  • ||

    Pooping on the boss's desk is no way to get ahead.

  • Jesse Walker||

    I can't help thinking this is somehow linked to that note he wrote to Condi about needing to go to the bathroom.

  • ||

    I think option number 1 is the most plausible as I don't think that W would really mind public poop talking or cursing enough to mention it.

    The eschatology/scatology mixup occurred to me immediately upon hearing about this. It's an easy enough mistake (for an idiot) to make.

  • ||

    Pooping on the boss's desk is no way to get ahead.

    Geez, Brian, who do you work for?

  • ||

    Miers' correspondence reminds me of Voltaire's line "Un sot troube toujours un plus sot qui l'admire".

    Harriet's cloying sycophancy almost put me in diabetic shock. It shows that you have to look under every rock to find a hero in Texas.

  • ||

    Seems that another possibility is that Miers had warned GW about scatalogical humor (Turd Blossom, anyone?)

    No thanks, I had Turd Blossoms for breakfast.

  • ||

    Of the options that joe laid out, I think #2 is the most appropriate for this thread.

    Thank-you, I'm here all week.

  • ||

    The judge is naked!
    http://theroxylandr.wordpress.com/2005/10/13/miers_sucks/

  • Jeff P.||

    Three thoughts occer to me upon reading this:

    A: Na na na na na na na na Scatman!
    B: There's a Bill Hicks routine about republicans being scat-munchers.
    C: GG Allin would've made a great Supreme Court Justice.

  • ||

    That's some weird shit.

  • ||

    "Number 1, I order you to take a number 2"

  • ||

    You know, when I was in 6th grade or so, and just starting to encounter these words, I used to mix up "erratic" and "erotic." I think this was due to reading sentences like, "The dancers moved erratically across the floor."

    By the way, also about this time, I was taking sex-ed in school. And one of the words I learned then was "ejaculate." I didn't know it could also mean "to exclaim or shout suddenly."

    Well, also about this time in my life, I was reading The War of the Worlds by H.G. Wells. And there is this sentence -- wait, I want to see if I can find this online, to get the wording exactly right. Be right back.

    OK, in Chapter 14, the Martian war machines are marching on London, or the town of Woking or something, sending the populace into a panic. And Wells' narrator says (recounting a report from his brother):

    He heard footsteps running to and fro in the rooms, and up and down stairs behind him. His landlady came to the door, loosely wrapped in dressing gown and shawl; her husband followed ejaculating.

    Boy, did that put a weird mental image into my head! I thought it was an awfully odd detail for Mr. Wells to throw into his story, as well.

    I guess this is kinda OT, sorry.

  • ||

    Ummmm...ok. Heh heh. Heh heh.

    Commander Beavis

  • ||

    No, G.G. Allin's already on the bench-- he faked his death and became Ruth Bader Ginzburg. I know, of course, that my timeline is fucked up but I'm reaching for a joke (and besides, haven't you seen Timecop?).

  • ||

    Speaking of, reminds me of this. It's been around forever but it's still funny.

  • dhex||

    maybe gw was cranking "solar lodge" too loudly in the oval office?

    see tha black sun ryze
    en the solur lod-ge

  • ||

    Barring public scatology means that Big Brother would have to hunt down every copy of the great work of literature that has a character I named myself after.

    First person who can name it gets a cigar.

  • ||

    Panurge,

    Rabelais and his Pantagruel and Gargantua, of course. Too bad I don't smoke.

  • ||

    dhex,

    Coil jokes are lost even on this bunch.

  • ||

    Oh, I would have gotten it Mr. Panurge.

    Can I have eric's cigar?

  • ||

    Somewhere in the bowels of the Library Of Congress, just waiting to be rediscovered, is a tape of Harriet Miers doing her inimitable version of The Aristocrats...

  • ||

    On cue:

    Harriet Miers walks into the Senate Judiciary Committee's confirmation hearings. Arlen Specter asks her, "Ms. Miers, how would you describe your approach to interpreting the Constitution?�

    Miers, visibly excited, says, �I�m glad you asked. My approach is really quite interesting. I think you�ll like it.�

    �Well then,� Specter says. �Let�s hear it.�

    Miers launches into an explanation: �Well, first thing I do is find a fairly quiet room with a clean desk. I put the Constitution on one side of the desk, and a Bible on the other. I then completely disrobe, as to be completely unfettered for the job at hand.�

    �Uh, Ms. Miers, I�m not sure that��

    �I then take the Constitution and stick it all the way up my ass. This is fairly difficult, because I like to use a large, leather-bound version, but I�ve gotten much better at it. It�s usually just the gold-plated index tabs that hurt.�

    �Ms. Miers, you realize that we�re on C-SPAN right now....�

    �Then, once the Constitution is safely hidden in my rectum, I bring my cat�Oscar�into the room, and begin feeding him pages of the Bible. He mostly likes the New Testament. Of course, since the Bible I use is printed on a 15% cotton-fiber stock, Oscar can only keep it down for so long. But when he finally coughs up the Bible-laden hairball, the pages have been reduced to a fine paste that it is somehow perfectly suited for use as decorative body paint.�

    �I really think we should take a break now, Ms. Miers.�

    �Wait just a moment. So now that I have this kitty-puke body paint, I�m finally ready for the midget to come in.�

    �Ms. Miers��

    �I�m sorry, little person. The little person takes the cat-vomit paint, and begins transcribing my thoughts on the facts of the case in longhand, backwards, using, for parchment, my glorious, naked body, and using, for a quill, his glorious��

    �Would somebody get a paramedic in here? I think Feinstein just fainted!�

    �Now, while the anatomically-gifted dwarf is dotting the I�s and crossing the T�s, I take a moment to forcibly eject the Constitution from my cavity. I then beat the cat to death with it�that little fucker just ate my Bible, after all�skin his corpse, and spread it out onto the desk. I then proceed to pleasure the Sex Gnome with the Constitution, all the while rolling my body across the desk, which transfers a now-readable version of the transcription onto the spread-out cat�s fur. I then wrap myself in this fabulous cloak, borrow a quarter from my Magnificent Porn Pygmy, and flip it into the air. If it lands on heads, I donate the cloak to charity, marry the little guy, and decide for the appellant on moral grounds. If it lands on tails, I donate the Oompa Loompa to charity, have myself declared legally married to the Cat-Skin-and-Puke Blanket, and decide for the appellee on a technicality.�

    At this point, Feinstein has fainted, Kennedy has had three heart attacks, and Specter looks as if he�s just vomited down his suit pants, which, in fact, he has. �That�s quite a judicial philosophy you have there, Ms. Miers,� he says. �What do you call it?�

    Miers jumps up from her seat, gives a cute little wave of her hands and says:

    �Originalism!�

  • ||

    Please....no more Harriet Miers fan fiction. I have to take a long car trip now and must save my vomit for car sickness if it should arise.

  • dhex||

    "Coil jokes are lost even on this bunch."

    perhaps, but i had to try anyway.

    i rather like the idea of gw singing along to "boy in a suitcase" however.

    "dear 'merica, i've got a boy in suitcase. it follows me from place to place. that's the 'merican way."

  • ||

    bago, that is awesomely funny. I'm gonna get fired just for reading it.

  • ||

    Zam! You the winna, bago!

    But Jim Walsh gets an Honorable Mention for slipping "bowels" into his post.

    Can I have eric's cigar?

    Seems a bit moist for a -- hey, that's not a cigar!

    I hereby move that we adjourn.

  • ||

    Brian, thanks for that story! It's been one of those days, at our office, and that helped!

  • ||

    Thanks, Stevo. Sounds like the bowel thing really wrecked' em...

  • Jeff P.||

    Scat story: A friend of mine asked to use the bathroom. He comes out after about a minute and says "that was the longest shit I've ever taken." I say "you were only in there a minute!"
    "No," he says, holding his hands up and spreading them so they're about five feet apart and facing each other "it was the looooongest shit..."

  • ||

    bago,

    Shouldn't that be attributed or at least linked to the original location?

  • ||

    Wasn't it Jello Biafra who said something about Dubya wanting to be a member of "the last generation" or somesuch?

  • ||

    Shamelessly swiped from here. Several more jokes there as well.

  • ||

    bago,

    Pretty funny, though it seems like a lot of foreplay for such a mild climax.

  • ||

    It's the aristocratic way.

  • ||

    seems like a lot of foreplay for such a mild climax

    Obviously spoken by a man.

  • ||

    What does Bush have against Ella Fitzgerald?

  • ||

    I'm afraid you have a point, Jennifer.

    Most men are too focused on "sex" as the actual act of coitus. Few realize that it actually begins much, much earlier. Usually with a trip to the hardware store.

  • ||

    By the way, this has been some week.

    I'm pooped.

  • ||

    That reminds me of a joke from my childhood.

    How do you get out from inside an elephant?

    Run around until you're all pooped out.

    (Share this with your children. Remember that Halloween trick-or-treating is coming up. They need fresh jokes.)

  • Robyn||

    Yup! You are right. This is no way to go ahead.

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