Note from Mad Kane: Dubya seems to be AWOL again. I went hunting for him, but all I could find
was this 404 error page.
May 26, 2005
Note from Mad Kane: Sorry for the lack of fresh entries! Dubya's been busy saving Social Security and giving tax cuts to wealthy embryos.
But I have lots of new political song parodies, limericks, and other humor (including audio) on my Notables Weblog, which is updated several times a week. Plus I've opened a new discussion area: Mad Kane's Forum. I hope to see you there!
August 4, 2003
Note from Mad Kane: Dubya's busy clearing brush & trying to keep logs out of his eyes. And trying to lose those extra 5 pounds of "muscle." But I did write a new song parody, dedicated to "fabulous" Condi Rice:
Fabulosa Condoleeza (to be sung to "Mona Lisa")
By Madeleine Begun Kane
Condoleezza, Condoleezza, Dub adores you.
You're so fine at saying falsehoods with a smile.
Is it cause you're female, Condi, that they've blamed you
For your fabulosa fakery and guile?
The rest is here, where you'll also find a sing-along midi link.
August 11, 2003
Dear Diary -- I'm havin a great time at the ranch, clearin brush & fishin & torturin my aides by makin em join me in my runs. Mosta them are such weenies, they're more likely ta faint then ta earn theirselves a 100 Degree Club tee.
And speakina weenies, I had the Powells over and gave his wife whatshername a big talkin to. He's so annoyin, I don't give a damn if he stays on as my Secy of State. But no way will I let either of em mess with my Black Vote!
Which reminds me, Karl's real prouda his Davis Terminator scheme. I guess it's okay that Arnold's runnin fer governor, even though he'll never be as good a Reagan as me. But when I run outta great movies ta watch, it'll be Karl Rove's fault.
Of course it coulda been a whole lot worse. At least I still have Austin Powers.
Karl wants me ta campaign fer Arnold. Which gives me a great idea! Perot says he might run fer Prez next year, so he can do ta me what he did ta Poppy. Maybe I should offer ta help Arnie in CA, if he promises ta "terminate" Perot.
August 18, 2003
Note from Mad Kane: Dubya's busy pretending to make important calls to world leaders and recovering from an illuminating blackout.
August 21, 2003
Note from Mad Kane: I'm proud to announce that MadKane.com is the:
Note from Mad Kane: In honor of John Ashcroft's Patriot Act tour, I've written Spying Days Are Here Again, a song parody to be sung to Happy Days Are Here Again.
Note from Mad Kane: Dubya's busy trying to raise both campaign cash and his polling numbers, while Rummy's running around condemning Bush critics as traitors. As for me, I've been busy writing "The Traitor Tune," to be sung to "She'll Be Coming Round The Mountain." It begins:
The Traitor Tune (to be sung to "She'll Be Coming Round the Mountain")
By Madeleine Begun Kane
If you criticize the White House, you're a fool.
Nothing more than an Al Qaeda pal and tool.
If you criticize the White House,
If you criticize the White House,
If you criticize the White House, you're a fool.
The rest of The Traitor Tune is here, where you'll also find a sing-along midi link.
September 15, 2003
Dear Diary -- I can't take it anymore! Last night I called Poppy & told him I'm packin my bags & goin back ta Texas.
Course I wouldn't be the one packin my bags: The President has people ta do stuff like that. Which these days seems like the only good parta the job.
Cause bein the leader a the world is a whole lot harder than they promised. Plus, whenever things went wrong before, Poppy always got his friends ta fix it. But not this time! In fact, it's Poppy's friends that got me inta this mess -- especially guys like Don "Cakewalk" Rumsfeld & Dick "Halliburton" Cheney.
And that great payin, just-pretend Halliburton job Dick promised me fer when I'm done bein Prez is all well & good. But right now all I care about is Right Now! And Right Now I'm gettin killed in the polls & I even had ta go pleadin ta the chocolate makin, old Europe UN fer help.
The only thing more humiliatin than that, would be ta lose in 2004 ta one a those Traitor Dems who think I should eat crow over my so-called mistakes. Well, they can go eat a different four-letter word!
Also, now that it looks like I won't be able ta pull off my new media rules promise, certain press guys are startin ta get critical and ask questions that are real hard ta answer. I mean, Dick & Rummy & Condi somehow still manage ta doubletalk em ta death. And if Ari was still here, he'd be able ta do it too. But fer me, doubletalkin without a script makes me dizzy.
And ta make matters even worse, people are bitchin & moanin about unemployment. Talk about petty! Besides, at the rate things are goin, I'll soon be unemployed too. Unless ya count that Halliburton thing.
Anyway, Poppy says I have ta stick it out cause Bushes don't cut & run. He also says I don't have ta worry about reelection, on accounta the new "improved" pollin machines, which I'm not supposta mention in this diary.
September 22, 2003
Note from Mad Kane: Dubya's busy trying to beg the U.N. for help, without screwing up his macho, go-it-alone image. His biggest problem (other than his own cockiness, stubbornness, and incompetence, of course) is France. So I've decided it's time to bash the French bashers.
Note from Mad Kane: I'm just back from helping my parents relocate from Long Island, New York to North Carolina, so I'm way behind on everything. But I couldn't resist writing "The Traitorgate Song," a song parody about the outing of Joseph Wilson's CIAer spouse, Valerie Plame. I hope you enjoy singing it to "I Write The Songs," by Barry Manilow.
"The Traitorgate Song" (to be sung to "I Write The Songs")
By Madeleine Begun Kane
The scandal started with a Niger lie
About nuke matter Saddam never did buy.
But Dubya would not let that falsehood die.
It's Traitorgate, it's Traitorgate.
The rest of The Traitorgate Song is here, where you'll also find a sing-along midi link.
October 10, 2003
Note from Mad Kane: You wouldn't think Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld would sit for an interview with a humorist, especially one who writes
song parodies like this. And you'd be right.
And I couldn't resist having a little fun with Governor Arnold. (No, not that kind of fun.)
October 15, 2003
Dear Diary -- Poppy yelled at me yesterday fer not bein my own man. Which kinda has me all confused, cause I thought Dick was my man.
He also says I haveta do a better job controlin my message, otherwise I'll be a one-termer like him. Which woulda been a hellofa lot easier if
Karen hadna left me high & dry.
What the heck does high & dry mean, anyway? Last time I checked, I was dry, but I sure as hell wasn't high. Which reminds me, I sure hope Rush gets his act together in time ta help with my reelection.
Anyway, I've been way too busy tryin ta spread good news ta write in here lately. Plus refereein between Rummy,Dick,Condi, & Powell's exhaustin.
An evil filter is the press.
They lie and say Iraq's a mess.
Though things are going great down there,
You'll never hear it on the air.
A bomb or two or three or four.
That's all they speak of -- blood and gore.
Ignoring good news, that's their beat.
The lib'ral press wants my defeat.
Our soldiers like it at the front.
We're doing great. We're on the hunt.
Iraqis love the USA.
They're begging us to "please, please stay."
The media likes to dwell on death.
It gets them viewers, gets them read.
They live to publish lies and leaks.
They're just a bunch of sniv'ling sneaks.
Someday I'll get them back, I swear.
They'll rue the day they weren't fair.
John Ashcroft has big plans, you see.
For treason, the death penalty.
October 24, 2003
Note from Mad Kane: Dubya's been too busy running around the world alienating people to post here lately. But I have a cartoon for you and a satirical poem about General Boykin.
Plus I did manage to get some juicy, exclusive leaks:
* Dubya refuses to pretend to read his mommy's new book. * Dubya's added this group to his enemies list, and Dick Cheney's added this guy to his.
November 4, 2003
Dear Diary -- I've gotta find a better spot ta hide my diary. Cause Condi sneaked a peak at it and ratted me out ta Laura. She told her my diary's packed with blank pages and bad grammar.
Of course Condi denied it and used her usual excuse -- that it musta been a subordinate. But I know she's the leaker. So I told her that if she didn't fess up I'd sik Ashcroft on her. Which gave us both a big laugh!
Anyway, Laura says I've gotta remember my posterity -- I'd rather remember her posterior -- & write here more regular-like. And that I'd better start usin a dictionary.
So I told her if she didn't stop naggin me, I'd call her a lump again in public. But then she got me real mad by sayin I'd better worry about my own lumps -- the ones that've sprung up from me not bein able ta run. But like I told her: It's not my fault! Anybody could fall off a Seg... I mean hurt himself runnin.
I also said that I eat more when I'm nervous & I've got plenty ta be nervous about. My poll numbers keep sinkin, the media won't get off my case, the usual spinnin doesn't seem ta work anymore, & that crazy woman driver tried ta assassinate me last Saturday. But Laura wouldn't buy it & said nobody tried ta kill me.
Dear Diary -- Boy, did I give a great Vets Day speech yesterday! I really like honorin our Vets, especially the dead ones. Just so long as nobody makes me hug their relatives!
And speakina great speeches, I did a fabulous big vision one last week about how much I love democracy. Especially when it's in other countries -- hahaha!
Of course not everyone agreed, on accounta that damn 1st amendment. But my objective staffers loved it, and that's all that counts.
Besides, like Karl says, anything that changes the subject from those damn dead soldiers in body ba... Oops, I mean
transfer tubes ... is fine by me.
Which reminds me, I was glad ta hear CBS caved on the Ronald Reagan flick. That should teach em a big time lesson. The next time they do a Republican Prez movie, they'll make it real true ta life
like the one about me.
November 17, 2003
Dear Diary -- I'm really lookin forward ta my UK trip & ta seein my good pood... I mean, pal... Tony again. And ta celebratin our "special relationship." And workin on our "get the hell outa Iraq while the goin's good" policy.
But I'm not so thrilled about stayin at the Palace, cause that damned Queen nixed mosta my security demands. Who the hell does she think she is? If she doesn't watch out I'll ask her about her family black sheep again. Or maybe even have Laura design Old Queeny one of her optimistic rugs, with a giant black sheep right smack in the middle.
Actually, I can't on accounta mom called up & said I better not do anything embarassin this time. And she specifically said no talkin about sheep.
Mom's just in a bad mood on accounta her dumb book's sellin a whole lot worse then that slobbo guy's Dude, Where's My Country. Note to self: Ask Ashcroft again why that creep isn't in jail.
Anyway, the main thing while I'm there is that I don't get shot at or bombed. And that nobody tries ta make me ride a horse.
November 24, 2003
Dear Diary -- Boy am I glad ta be back home. Okay not home, exactly, cause DC ain't home. But it sure as hell beats
the UK. No wonder those fellas revolted!
Anyway, every time I turned around they were pointin me at bad art & smelly old books. Or makin me hug widows who need a dentist.
Plus those Brits are so inta time-wastin ceremonies, I almost threw up. Kinda like Poppy did, but someplace else.
And their dinner toast cermonies are way beyond confusin. One night at some big deal dinner thrown by the Queen -- or maybe her dead mother -- I got so mixed up, I near ta threw my Coca Cola down the Princess's lap.
Of course Condi and the etiquette cops tried ta get me ta practice all that nonsense before I left. But who has the patience fer such foolishness, when I can be watchin a game?
Ta make matters even worse, those Turkish attacks couldna been worse timed if they did it on purpose. Which reminds me -- Once when Tony said he wanted ta talk about Turkey, I thought he meant Thanksgiving and started tellin him about me pardonin some turkey that tried ta bite me.
When he told me he meant a country that had just been attacked, we had a real big laugh. Well I did, anyway.
December 8, 2003
Note from Mad Kane: Dubya's been too busy sneaking in and out of countries to write in his diary. Not to mention trying to punish Richard Gephardt for this.
December 16, 2003
Dear Diary -- I got him!!! I got him!!! I got him!!! I got him!!! I got him!!! I got him!!! I got him!!! I got him!!! I got him!!!
I did it & Poppy didn't!!! I did it & Poppy didn't!!! I did it & Poppy didn't!!! I did it & Poppy didn't!!! I did it & Poppy didn't!!!
And I'm gonna remind mom about that, the next time she tells me ta take my shoes off of her damn table!
But Karl and everyone says I'm not allowed ta brag or ta gloat. Or at least not ta get caught doin it. But they didn't tell me I couldn't sing the Bushtown Races song Ashcroft wrote fer me:
The Democrats are always wrong.
Doo-dah! Doo-dah!
Now I'll be Prez for oh so long.
Oh! Doo-dah day!
Got Saddam jailed cause he wouldn't cave in.
Doo-dah! doo-dah!
My pals back home got a pocket full of tin.
Oh! De doo-dah day!
Goin' to run all night.
Goin' to run all day.
I'll bet my second term is in the bag.
Won't even bother to pray.
So long to lib'rals, now they know who's boss.
Doo-dah! Doo-dah!
I beat Iraq, never suffered a loss.
Oh! De doo-dah day!
Don't call me chicken cause I'm on a roll.
Doo-dah! doo-dah!
Now Saddam's mine, don't need no polls.
Oh! De doo-dah day!
Goin' to run all night.
Goin' to run all day.
I'll bet my second term is in the bag.
Won't even bother to pray.
January 1, 2004
Dear Diary -- I hear my FBI issued some kinda almanac alert on accounta those farmer books are jam packed with all kindsa evil information. But like I told old Ashy, I think all book readin types are suspicious, except maybe fer Laura. And sometimes I'm not even so sure about her.
Dear Diary -- My State of the Union Speech is comin up soon & fer once I'm lookin forward to it. And the best part is Karl promised that I'll get ta give at least four more of em.
Although Karl did admit he's just a teeny bit worried about that nasty Dean feller on accounta he's such a loose cannon. He says if Dean's the candidate I'm gonna have ta do a lotta extra debate practicin, cause Dean's the kinda guy that might make me lose my temper. I joked that these days everybody makes me lose my temper. That Karl has no sensa humor.
Anyway, I don't know see why I have to debate anybody. After all, I captured Saddam, and that's all anybody needs ta know.
But Karl says I won't be able to get outta at least a coupla debates, but that I'll be fine. Especially since I'm way taller than Dean & the tall guy always wins.
He also wants me ta watch some of my 2000 election tapes so I can remember how ta do my moderate, humble foreign policy, compassionate conservative shtick. Damn! I was hopin I'd only haveta use the cowboy act, which is a whole lot easier. Plus it gives me an excuse ta hang out at the ranch, clear cedar, and throw horseshoes atBarney.
Like I told Karl, I'm not worried about the election cause my pal Pat Robertson says God's on my side and that I'm gonna win no matter what. But Karl says God or no God, I still have to practice my SOTU speech.
January 21, 2004
Note from Mad Kane: Dubya's busy recovering from his State of the Union address. He's also busy being berated by Dick Cheney for spilling water on him at the end of the speech. But I did commemorate the event with an interactive State of Disunion crossword puzzle.
With all this pressure, the poor man is understandably exhausted, especially since lately he's been suffering from a sleep disorder: Several times each night Laura wakes up, notices Bush is AWOL, & finds him sleepwalking while repeatedly muttering the words "I want Dean. I want Dean. I want Dean."
February 17, 2004
Dear Diary -- I'm beyond bummed, cause my poll numbers keep goin down, down, down. Yet another reason not ta read the paper!
Plus they keep makin me give optimistic speeches, which is a whole lot harder than scarin people. And a lot less fun!
Which reminds me -- I have ta call up Ashcroft today & calm him down over the gun bill. And ask him again why stuff like this isn't illegal.
March 29, 2004
Dear Diary -- Damn that Condi! She says she's perfectly happy ta lie fer me about Richard Clarke &
other stuff, just like always. But she absolutely refuses ta do it under oath. And when I asked her what's the difference, she mumbled something about their not bein any pianos in prison. So much fer loyalty!
Dear Diary -- That RED house livin, brie eatin, wine swillin, California bitch Pelosi has some hellofa nerve sayin "the Emperor has no clothes!" Fer one thing, I dress a whole lot better then she does. And fer another, I much prefer Dictator or Czar.
Though I've gotta give Pelosi credit -- she has one cute lookin package of a daughter. (Note to self: Don't say that out loud in fronta Laura.)
Gotta go now -- it's time fer some just pretend Bible readin. Which is a lot more fun ever since I hid those hot torture photos inside my Presidential Bible.
And speakina torture, my poll numbers are killin me! I've gotta figure out whose fault it is: Rummy, Rove, or God.
Plus Nader's ballot problems and that Mass Lib's VEEP pick have got Karl real worried. He was really hopin fer a Kerry/Gephardt ticket, even though that Dick called me a miserable failure. Cause Karl says the thought of Cheney havin ta debate Edwards makes his head hurt.
Which reminds me -- a lot of my pals want me to Cheney Cheney.
Note from Mad Kane: Dubya's been too depressed to post here lately. But I have lots of new political song parodies, limericks, and other humor on my Notables Weblog, which is updated several times a week. Here's how my latest song parody starts:
The GOP Hits New York (to be sung to "When Johnny Comes Marching Home Again")
"The GOP bash will soon be here.
Oh, no! Oh, no!
Won't give 'em a hearty welcome cheer.
Oh, no! Oh, no
They'll swarm our bars and they'll crowd our streets.
They'll praise and laud their nominees.
And we won't feel gay when
The GOP hits New York..."
Dear Diary -- Well, the big day's comin in just a coupla days. Though I'd just as soon skip it and go directly ta my 2nd inauguration. Cause speech-makin in New York isn't exactly my idea of a good time. Actually, anything in New York isn't exactly my idea of a good time. Except maybe acceptin really big checks.
I still can't believe one of the twins wants ta teach school in that evil city. And in Harlem yet, just a coupla blocks from the guy whose recession I inherited.
And speakina has-been ex-presidents, Dad called me again ta congratulate me, but I refused ta take his call. Cause I sure as hell don't need ta go through the whole Iraq war argument with him again. Plus he's still hopin I'll change my mind at the last minute and let him speak at the convention. Just what I need is old Poppy tryin ta make me look bad again. How's it my fault that I didn't inherit the old feller's way with words?
Which reminds me, Karen yelled at me fer not practicin my speech at the ranch. Yeah right -- like I'm gonna practice a speech when I can be ridin my mountain bike.
I'd still rather give my speech remote-like from the ranch, wearin the great cowboy hat the meat guys gave me. Cause that'd play one hell of a lot better on TV, then me behind a New York convention podium -- with the librul press showin photos of demon-strators with mean signs, singin songs that should get em arrested.
But Karl says the delegates'd feel cheated if I pulled a no-show. And that the press'd play it like I'm cuttin & runnin. So I'll go down or up there and give my damn speech, & make nice with the firemen. And try ta figure out how ta get the hell outta there without spendin the night.
November 4, 2004
Dear Diary -- Wow! Kerry sure gave up a whole lot quicker than Gore did. Who knew he was such a cut & run kinda guy? Maybe those Swift Boat fellers were on ta somethin, after all -- hahaha!
Anyway, so now I got myself another four years. Which is kinda amazin, cause I thought I was a goner after that first debate, between those back photos and the mix-up with my meds.
But good ol Karl never worried. He kept sayin "Have faith!" And I kept tellin him, "Of course I have faith in God. God talks ta me at least twice a day." But Karl said, "Screw God -- I'm talkin faith in Diebold."
Sometimes Karl goes a little weird on me. But hell, he gets the job done, so he can worship Satan fer all I care. And rumor has it that he does.
November 8, 2004
Dear Diary -- Where the hell does Arlen Specter come off tellin me who I can and can't send up fer a Sup Ct appointment? Of course, Karl sicked the talk radio guys on him & scared him inta denyin he ever said it. Plus Rove started a rumor that Ashcroft's on my Sup Ct short list. Yeah, like I'm gonna send that crazed eagle-singer anywhere but packin home ta wherever he lost an election to a dead guy.
But Karl's a genius, just like he's always remindin me. Cause after floatin a loony-bird rumor like that, anyone else I nominate's gonna seem like a Massachusetts liberal.
Anyway, if Arlen wants ta head up that judge committee, he better damn well swear on a Bible that all my nominees'll soar right through.
Which reminds me -- I'm itchin ta get started. What's taking Rehnquist so long? It's kick off time!
February 25, 2005
Dear Diary -- I haven't written in here fer a real long time, cause I hate writin even more than I hate readin. Which reminds me -- I can't believe the press actually bought me readin that Sharansky guy's democracy book. Talkin about democracy's one thing, but readin about it? That's Condi's job -- that and writin me mini-book reports. Just in case I get asked a trick question like what's my favorite philosopher. Thank God fer Jesus!
But gettin back ta my not writin here, Laura says if I ever want ta get big bucks fer a book, like Poppy's new best pal Bill Clinton (What the hell's that about?) I have ta write enuff here ta give Karen somethin ta work with.
Anyway, I'm just back from Old Europe where that damn Chirac had the nerve ta speak French! Which means he just blew his last chance at playin cowboy at my ranch.
And speakin of blowin -- that Gannon thing refuses ta go away. So I told Karl that this time he went too far. But he just laughed and said, you're still President, aren't you?
