Why,
nothin' could be finer'n great vittles and a good show! Gather up
the kinfolk y'all, grab a bag o' Pork Rinds and some o' Grannie's
finest possum gravy (fer dippin'). Then set yersel
ves down fer a spell to see the whole
Bush clan fixin' to head back to DC and commence to reclaim what had oughta be rightfully theirs.
You recollect that Poppy took such
a likin' to the town that he hunkered down there to be a double-naught spy. 'Bout that time, the boy was learnin'
his cipherin' and shootin' squirrels tryin' to swim the Rio Grande. Well, Poppy left town totin' nothing but a
brand new fishing pole.
Now, the boy hankers to git back
there and run off those low-down, sidewindin' varmints squattin' in the White House. First thing, he's gonna save
us all from those horn-swagglin' Revenuers a-taxin' the gas for Jethro's truck - the Original Sport Utility Vee-Hickle.