Even HBO was unwilling to air “You’re Welcome America: A Final Night with George W. Bush” in prime time. Perhaps it was the giant photo of a penis Will Ferrell kept calling up on the screen behind him.
But if you weren’t offended by the last eight years, you’ll be okay with this amazing one-man show. Ferrell was at his raunchy best. As funny as he could have been during his SNL salad days if he could have shrugged “fuck it” when appropriate.
It was difficult to distinguish which words actually came from W’s mouth and which were pulled from Ferrell’s very funny ass. So difficult in fact, the word TRUE would be flashed on the big screen to help us know the difference.
As with Oliver Stone’s W., I came away feeling more sad for #43 than mad.
The Eagles provided the soundtrack for an important period in my life. Equally true, I assume, for others in the audience at last night’s Eagles concert. A lady sitting near us wasn’t born when the Eagles hit it big, but grew up listening with her parents.