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Jonathan David Morris: Good morning. I’m Jonathan David Morris, and today I’m joined by a very special guest, George W. Bush’s outgoing chief political advisor, Mr. Karl Frickin’ Rove. Karl, thanks for dropping in.
Karl Frickin’ Rove: My pleasure, JDM. Thanks for having me.
JDM: Karl, let me start with the question on most people’s minds. What does it feel like to be Karl Frickin’ Rove? I mean, you’re Karl Frickin’ Rove. Has that hit you yet?
KFR: It has, it has. And I can’t complain. Look, there’s been a lot said about me—this whole Karl Frickin’ Rove mythology that’s just taken on a life of its own over the last seven or eight years. At the end of the day, I wake up every morning like everyone else.
JDM: But no one else wakes up as Karl Frickin’ Rove. What does that feel like?
KFR: On most mornings, bloated.
JDM: You recently announced you were leaving the Bush administration a year and a half before it exits Washington. This is a president you’re largely credited with putting in power. Why leave now, so close to the end?
KFR: Well, there comes a point when you have to ask yourself, what more can I do? I asked myself that question, and I was surprised by the brevity of my answer. I’ve already guided George Bush to the most spectacular fall in presidential approval rating history. What am I going to do—stick around while he sinks even further? That would be like Barry Bonds running up the homerun record after surpassing Hank Aaron. No, that’s not what I’m about. My work is done here.
JDM: At the same time, you’ve been called “Bush’s brain.” Don’t you think it sets a bad example for other brains in this country—that they should abandon their bodies when the going gets tough?
KFR: Sure. And I guess kicking a deaf, dumb, and blind single mother of seventeen off welfare sets a bad example, too. Look, what you’re suggesting reeks of socialism. The brain is its own person. It’s not the brain’s fault the arms and legs can’t carry their own weight. Maybe this is just what they need to clean up their lazy act already. It’s a shame what they’re teaching you kids about America. The Constitution isn’t a suicide pact.
JDM: Speaking of suicide pacts, there’ve been whispers ‘round Washington for years that you masterminded the outing of CIA operative Valerie Plame.
KFR: That’s true.
JDM: It’s true you masterminded the outing?
KFR: No, it’s true there’ve been whispers. This whole thing reminds me of a girl I knew in junior high school. Coincidentally, her name was also Valerie Plame; however, she was black. Anyway, long story short, word spread around the lunchroom one day that this Valerie Plame was pregnant.
JDM: But she wasn’t?
KFR: No, she was. And from what I understand, she outed herself. The point is, I believe in personal accountability. Don’t blame Karl Frickin’ Rove for Valerie Plame’s outing… or the other Valerie Plame’s outing. If these Valerie Plames weren’t people to begin with, there would’ve been nothing to out.
JDM: Moving right along, tell me whatever happened to the grand Rovian strategy for long-term Republican rule. Were the 2006 midterm elections an aberration? Or will Iraq hurt the GOP again in ‘08?
KFR: It’s very clever how you in the media assume losing ‘06 wasn’t part of the strategy. In case you haven’t noticed, ever since Republicans “lost” “control” of “Congress” to the Democrats, Congress’s approval has been even lower than President Bush. I’m not saying, “We planned that.” But I’m not saying, “I’m not saying, ‘We planned that,’” either.
JDM: Finally, there’s been a lot of speculation about what’s next for Karl Frickin’ Rove. Here’s your chance to squash all the rumors. Are you staying in politics? Joining some presidential candidate’s campaign? Or are you planning on spending more time with your family? Or maybe something else?
KFR: Well, I’ve already been offered to replace Rosie O’Donnell on “The View,” as well as Nathan Lane in Broadway’s “The Producers.” But I don’t know. I tend to eclipse a lot of spotlight when I’m in it, and maybe it’s time for someone else. I own a few acres at the center of the Earth, and there’s always been something about sipping lemonade and shooting varmints from the comfort of a rocking chair that’s appealed to me. You haven’t heard the last of Karl Frickin’ Rove yet. But I’ve got time to figure something out.