Okay, Denizens, stop the presses.  It’s the Apocalypse™.  The End Of The Fuckin’ Universe™.  The Sky Is Falling™, even.
For the Leader of the Free World…has pissed off Helen Thomas.
(Pardon me one second… )
Okay…where was I…?  Ah, yes:
President Bush today again avoided taking a question from White House doyenne Helen Thomas during his 45-minute press conference, even though he took questions from every reporter around her front-row, center seat.
In other words, just your average day at the White House.  Standard Operating Procedure™.  Move along.  Nothing to see here… (snicker)
“He’s a coward,” Thomas said afterward. “He’s supposed to be this macho guy. He’ll take on Osama bin Laden, but he won’t take me on.”
Um, Helen, babe?  Do you think that could possibly be because you’re a has-been (really, never-was), meaningless-in-the-Grand-Scheme-Of-Things™, exceedingly self-important, overrated, overpaid, washed-up, used-up, tore-up, put-up-wet, uninspiring, underwhelming, over-the-hill, impotent, bitchy, crying, conniving, sniveling, weak little shrew???
Just askin’.
Thomas, who worked as the UPI White House reporter for 57 years and is now a columnist, raised her hand every time the president was concluding an answer to a reporter’s question, but he never called on her.
She had a few questions in mind, though. “I wanted to ask about Iraq: ‘You said you didn’t go in for oil or for Israel or for WMDs. so why did you go in?'”
She also had another question at the ready, just in case, this one about the president’s contention that a 28-year-old wiretapping law known as FISA is out of date, which prompted him to order the National Security Agency to conduct a secret electronic surveillance program that Democrats contend is illegal.
“You keep saying it’s a 1978 law, but the Constitution 200 years old. Is that out of date, too?”
That’s gratitude for you.  Helen, honey – President  Bush (I know how that just sticks in your crotchety old craw, so I love getting that dig in, y’know? (chuckle)) was actually doing you a favor by not calling on your tired, old skanky ass.  Is it even remotely possible that maybe – just maybe – he didn’t want you embarrassing  yourself on national television with those half-assed, shit-for-brains excuses-for-questions of yours?
Afterward, Thomas sat sullenly in her chair in the White House press work area, huddled in her leopard-print winter coat.
Awwwwwwww, ism’s widdle Helen frowing herselfs a pity party ’cause the big, bad, mean ol’ President wouldn’t play her childish-assed game?  Awwwwwwwwwwww…
But as she left, she made a prediction: “He came on to my turf. I’ll bet the next press conference will be in Room 450 of the EEOB,” a theater-style room in the Eisenhower Executive Office Building, where she would not be in the front row.
What if he does, bimbo?  He could  also go one step further and not invite  your ugly ass, y’know.  He’d be doing America  a favor if he did that.
F.E.J.F.E.