Freddogg Off The Chain

Eight years and George Bush had never looked so cool. Some stupid Iraqi journalist stands up and throws a shoe-a high hard fast shoe-right at Bush’s head and he just moves to the side like Ali in his prime and flashes that stupid self assured smerk before easily bobbing away from shoe number two.
And then old white guys emerge from back doors like a Marx brothers movie. Where were the young studs with cat quick reflexes? Take a shoe for the president and five minutes later it’s a million dollar book deal.
Wouldn’t it have been great if a shoe riot broke out inside the tent? What if Bush weren’t so quick and took a hoof to the mouth. The ultimate insult in Iraq, we are told, but you know Bush would have been on the phone to Cheney,” Bring down the shock and awe just wait until I’m safely back inside the green zone. Throw a shoe at my head? I don’t think so!”
One year teaching some dirty white boy threw a desk at me when my back was turned. It bounced off the blackboard. He ran from the room and for a minute I thought of chasing so I could beat him into another standard deviation to the left of normal.
But if an adult threw a shoe at my head how would I react. Not as quickly as the president. He is a shoe dodging all star.