So, here we are: four more years of George W. Chimp. Of course, predictably, all the Democrats and Liberals were howling about how they lost because of all those terrible people who voted for Ralph Nader. Never mind that the Democrats chose to nominate the most bland, uninspiring ticket ever; never mind that the Democratic nominee supported pretty much everything Bush did (except, of course when he opposed it). Never mind that John Kerry just sat there like a goddamn’ lump while the Bush campaign slapped him around, kicked him in the nuts and accused him of falsifying his war record — not that it didn’t serve Kerry right for bragging about his goddamn’ war record, and assuming for just a moment that a willingness to follow orders to kill and die unquestioningly somehow qualifies one to hold public office. Naahh, it was those mean old Nader supporters that cost ’em the election; the Democrats remain convinced of that. Of course, the Democrats also remain convinced that things would’ve been different under a Kerry Administration, so there you are.

This series of posters promoted the Counterinaugural activities scheduled to coincide with the Second Coronation of George W. Chimp; they illustrate what we were in for four more years of Bush. To be honest, despite these being some of the best pieces I’ve done, I felt rather awkward doing them, as I worried they’d convey the impression that I believed things would’ve been substantially different had Kerry been “elected” when in fact, given Kerry’s record, they wouldn’t have — except, perhaps, for the delicious irony of hearing protesting crowds in the streets chanting “Hey, Hey, JFK! How many kids did you kill today?”

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Here’s another one of those gags that pretty much drew itself. On hearing the news that New York City would have the dubious honor of hosting the 2004 Republican Convention, this image slammed into my head like a runaway train and refused to go away:

This was my part towards inspiring locals and visitors alike to hit the streets and give the GOP a good old-fashioned New York City welcome, and to let the Bush Mob know that the people of NYC weren’t going to allow themselves to be cast as “extras” in a fascist corporate infomercial (which is basically what the Republicratic and Demopublican Conventions had become by this time).

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This piece originally appeared in an exhibition of cartoons at the Provisions Gallery and Bookstore in Washington DC. During the Q&A in my obligatory “artist talks about his work” appearance at the opening, one concerned art lover asked, regarding this cartoon, whether or not this was really the kind of conservation message I wanted to send, to which I replied “Conservation message? What conservation message?”

This was no gasoline conservation message; this was a comment on the attitude of the millions of American men who were trying to show off how macho they were, “playing soldier” by driving Hummers around their hometowns while, in the meantime, thousands of real soldiers were dying in theirs in Iraq in an attempt to subjugate a nation and steal its resources. By this time, gasoline was nudging the three-dollar-a-gallon mark, and I was getting more than a little bit sick and tired of listening to fat, selfish Americans pissing and moaning about the price of gasoline, as if cheap gas was something they were somehow magically entitled to. I actually found myself rooting for gasoline to hit four or five dollars a gallon — something approaching the prices people have paid for years in Europe — just so I could see all those selfish, arrogant SUV drivers get a bit of well-deserved comeuppance.

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Yeah, sure, call me sick; ask me if I care. I’ll proudly admit to having laughed until I damn’ near wet my pants on hearing the news that President Chimp had nearly choked to death on a pretzel while watching football on TV at the White House, and that my first subsequent thought was “have another pretzel, George!”

I’d also like to take this moment to start spreading around a new expression, to signify that moment when a cocky, hubristic institution suddenly realizes, alas too late, that it’s bitten off more than it can chew and can’t stop itself choking: “Biting The Pretzel” …as in “whoa, Dubya’s really biting the pretzel in Iraq, huh?”

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