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I sometimes think

  1. "how different my life would be" if I had been born female.
  2. Then, I might even think
    1. how DRASTICALLY different my life would be if I had been born a minority female.
    2. Which could lead me to think
    3. how UNBELIEVABLY different my life would be if I had been born female and a minority and then discovered myself 2Be Condoleezza Rice.

Not so much the part about being black now instead of white.

Nor the bits flip from boy parts to girl parts (I might be lying here if boobs are involved).

Nor the sharp decline in cognitive abilities one would experience Becoming Condoleezza Rice.

Nope.

None of that.

TheBeing Condoleezza Riceshift I'm talking about is discovering what it's like when all your

  1. embarrassing errors
  2. moronic mistakes
  3. crappy conclusions
  4. dumbass directives
  5. and frightening f'ck-ups
    1. (including all the "sh't hitting the fan" moments they generate)

lead to nothing but

  1. promotions
  2. and commendations
  3. and award plaques
  4. and medals
  5. and dolla dolla bills yo
  6. and keys to cities you've never been to
  7. ... and possibly even
    1. adrenochrome goblets
    2. and admission into the illuminati
    3. and other stuff
    4. like that.

These are not the WMD you are looking for...

Move along now.

  1. And go tell Dick to get in here pronto and clean up all this yellow-cake uranium the CIA delivered this morning.
    1. He may be the boss around here but I'm still the god-damned President of the USA and the oval office, MY office, is not a storeroom for Cheney's uranium shenanigans!

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