You evil, cyncial son of a bitch. You cut the convention short--not because you and your rich cronies will actually be doing anything to help, not because you care, since you all blocked funding to build proper storm preparedness systems, but because it would look bad to party while people died. And then you want to use Hurricane Gustav as a photo-op? It really is all for show, isn't it? Hire a woman to be vice-president, just make sure she's rotten to the core and as determined to sell us all to whoever's buying as you are. Parade around the wife you traded-up for when the old one wore out and ran out of money. Nothing matters but power, your power, your personal, cynical, hideous power, and even though the levees haven't been rebuilt and the city is set to drown again because of your birthday-cake baking friends, you'll happily go stand in front of it if it'll make you look one inch more presidential. Nothing could show your colors more than rushing to the side of a disaster to have your picture taken in front of it and then taking off on the nearest private jet, but I'm sure your bought-and-paid-for media will manage to make it look heroic. Because that's your schtick, right? Heroic. Maverick. And I have to stand by and helplessly watch as you fool huge numbers of people who should know better. New Orleans has to stand by and smile, soaked and bleeding, while you wave for the cameras. Fuck. you.
I hope a palm tree falls on you and cracks your skull.