Ahhh...the State of the Union...

A prime opportunity to play drinking games, tossing back a mouthful of hops whenever the ubiquitous words "terrorists", "freedom", "enemies" and "nucular" passed through the tinny speakers of the tv. The only way to temper the gag reflex was to continue the swilling.

Sometimes you just have to marvel at the hypocrisy, and none so blatant as King George uttering the names of Martin Luther AND Coretta Scott King, and then going on to compare his administration's actions to MLK and Lincoln all at the same time.

Now, call me nitpicky, but set aside the obvious Orwellian doublespeak sprinkled throughout the speech. Forget about the references to "America's oil addiction" from a failed oilman who's cozied up to so many big oilmen that he bleeds crude. Forget about the hypocrisy of referencing the need for better education a day before education budgets were slashed. I could go on, but do I really need to?

Push all that to the back of your mind and ask yourself...did Lincoln have speechwriters? What does it say about the "leader" of the free world that he cannot speak for himself without a veritable army of pundits, pollsters, speechwriters and campaign strategists to write the words for him?

Now, call me an idealist (go ahead...I don't mind), but I think someone with that much power should at least be able to express themselves without help. I know, I know...you're thinking "If they let Bush write his own speeches, no one would know what the hell he was talking about!" And you're right. And isn't that one of the most telling factors in politics?

We don't elect presidents. We elect public relations firms, and well paid pollsters who tell politicians what to say and how to say it. We elect propaganda machines to tell us what they think we need to hear, without ever really telling us anything.

Bush's SOTU had the frilly wrappings of well-heeled college graduate speechwriter platitudes, dressed up in a smirk, with the substance of a Twinkie.

When I competed in poetry slams, sometimes it came down to a final round, all dependent upon one's ability to improvise. I have had moments of brilliance, and terrible block where I couldn't come up with anything worthwhile. But it was all me.

And my daddy didn't even get me into college.