Rush Limbaugh is an Iago, pouring his poisonous unction into our ears; and he would have us strangle fair Desdamona, the heart and soul of our country. The liberals and democrats and liberal democrats have come by stealth into the bedroom of a married woman, he whispers into the sated ear, for the benefit of any Othello in the radio audience,"who loved not wisely but too well". Iago is self-advertised, of course, as having no vested interest. He is not even vaguely political. He touts himself as the friend of each listener, and most innocently he claims, he is only an entertainer. If he can remember where he saw your beloved's scarf. There it is, full of her body's perfume, in the waistcoat of Congressman Murtha.

"Old rocking chair's got me, my cane by my side.
Fetch me that gin son, 'fore I tan your hide.
Can't get from this cabin, goin' nowhere.
Just set me here grabbin' at the flies round this rocking chair."

--song by Hoagy Carmichael

It's not really the way we picture George W. Bush in his retirement years. But as if a proof of the President's fondness for selling the implausible wrapped up in a sweet confection; he buttered up his resigning Press Secretary, Scott McClellan, in a saccharine ceremony on the White House lawn.

Bush was mentioning the prospect of Golden Years, which would include future reminiscences with Scotty in rocking chairs.