New Rules: Polite Musings from a Timid Observer by Bill Maher Read Free Book Online Page A

Welch’s Grape Juice and a reading from The Purpose Driven Life—suddenly Grey-hound to Vegas looked pretty good.
    Jennifer, I applaud your rugged individualism. You eloped with yourself. And to Vegas, baby—that’s money. I mean, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, whereas the woman who marries in Georgia... stays in Georgia.
    Jen, you’re a free spirit, I can tell. Something inside you snapped and rebelled at the idea of living in a persistent vegetative state—which is why tonight I’d like to offer you an open invitation to come out here. We’ll even send you the $118 dollar bus ticket—first class, right behind the driver.
    Come on! Come all the way over to the dark side. You can stay in my hot tub till you get back on your feet. You’re crazy and you don’t care about anyone’s feelings but your own—you belong in Hollywood. You’re a reality show waiting to happen. Plus there are a lot of eligible bachelors here. Pat O’Brien’s available. I can introduce you. And I’ve got some stuff that you can smoke that might alleviate some of that pressure behind your eyeballs. And don’t worry about that fiancé of yours. Believe me, by the time I’m finished with you, he won’t want you back.

BILL MAHER I
     
    RULES
     

I Do-Wop
     

     

NEW RULE
     
    There’s nothing wrong with being a little old bald guy and marrying a 23-year-old. That’s why God created money. Stop talking about how embarrassing Billy Joel’s marriage is. Driving into every tree in East Hampton? That’s embarrassing. “We Didn’t Start the Fire”? Embarrassing. This is the first thing he’s done since “The Stranger” that makes perfect sense.

I Hear Dead People
     

NEW RULE
     
    If you find a new record from anyone dead, it sucks. If Elvis or Tupac or Kurt Cobain thought they had a hit, they would have released it back when it could have helped them get blown.
    Chicken Hawk Down
     
    NEW RULE
     
    T he people in America who were most in favor of the Iraq war must go there and fight it. The army missed its recruiting goal by 42 percent a few months ago—more people joined the Michael Jackson Fan Club. We’ve done picked all the low-lying Lynndie England fruit, and now we need warm bodies. We need warm bodies like Paula Abdul needs... warm bodies.
    A Baptist Minister in North Carolina told nine members of his congregation that unless they renounced their 2004 vote for John Kerry, they had to leave his church. Well—if we’re that certain these days that George Bush is always that right about everything, then going to Iraq to fulfill the glorious leader’s vision would seem the least one could do.
    Hey, if it makes it any easier, just think of it as a reality show. Fear Factor. Shitting Your Pants Edition. Survivor: Sunni Triangle. Or maybe a video game: Grand Theft Allah.
    I know, you’re thinking, “But Bill, I already do my part with the ’Support Our Troops’ magnet I have on my Chevy Tahoe—how much more can one man give?”
    Here’s an intriguing economic indicator: It’s been over a year since they graduated, but neither of the Bush twins has been able to find work. Why don’t they sign up for Iraq duty? Do they hate America or just freedom in general?
    That goes for everybody who helped sell this war—you gotta go first. Brooks and Dunn? Drop your cocks and grab your socks. Ann Coulter: Darling, trust me, you will love the army. You think you make up stuff? Curt Schilling? Bye-bye. You ended the curse on Boston? Good. Let’s try your luck on Fallujah. Oh, and that Republican Baldwin brother has to go, too, so that Ted Nugent has someone to frag.
    But mostly, we have to send Mr. and Mrs. Britney Spears, because Britney once said: “... we should trust our president in every decision that he makes, and we should just support that and be faithful in what happens.”
    Somebody has to die for that. Hell, Britney’s already knocked up, so that’ll save the guards at Abu Ghraib about 10 minutes. And think