Saturday, December 17, 2005

Future Bush Script: Media & McClellan



Liberalmedia:
Scott, the President has been in office for five years, but he never says he's sorry. Why won't he apologize? Or admit error? Why not one sincere, "sorry?" Even David Brooks, the conservative, told me he thought a Presidential apology was fair when I saw him at a cocktail party. I'd like a follow up. Just one, please.

Scott McClellan:
This President believes in accountability. He says what he means and he means what he say. Standing firm. Shoulder to shoulder. Never again. NineEleven. The mistake that occurred - er ah, the one I believe you are alluding to - when that mountain girl, Ms. England, was caught being mean to some evildoers, has already been dealt with by court martial. Does that satisfy you?

Liberalmedia:
Yes. Thanks Scott. Oh, about the Iraqi elections...

Scott McClellan:
Make it quick.


Liberalmedia:
Does Moktada al-Sadr support a woman's right to choose?

Scott McClellan:
I'll have to get back to you on that one. Next question?

Liberalmedia:
Thanks Scott. Sorry to be so pushy.


Les:
Tony Blair is a socialist. He's basically admitted as much. You do know that Scott, don't you? With that in mind, what...


Scott McClellan:
Les, I fail to see where you are ...

Les:
Let me finish Scott, Mao didn't celebrate Christmas. You know that Scott. The ChiComs don't even celebrate Santa, much less real Christmas. Don't dodge Scott. Don't dodge Scott. You know it's true. You know it's true. What does the President, on whose behalf you presume to speak, think about thems apples?

Scott McClellan:
The President is not Chinese, Les. Trust me, I anticipated that one.

Mainstreammedia:
Trust Scott??? You told all of us that Rove and Libby had nothing to do with the Plame leak. Now we know that was wrong. We know you were wrong! How can we trust you anymore?

Scott McClellan:
Ongoing investigation. President wants to get to the bottom. Ongoing investigation. NineEleven. Ongoing investigation. I told you we have trust. Look at the transcript. The transcript says we have trust. Does that answer your question?


Mainstreammedia:
Yes. Thanks Scott. Sorry to be so pointed. Didn't mean to imply anything. You have trust. It's in my editors notes and it's in your personality profile.


Helen:
Scott, everything you say is wrong. Everything you say is the opposite of the truth. Why?

Scott McClellan:
Helen, you can disagree with fighting terrorism. If you wish to take the side of the evildoers, that's your right. We can disagree, but you must trust us to tell you the truth about America's policies, even if you wish to take the other side.

Helen:
How can I or any of us trust you Scott? How? Everything you say is wrong. You...

Scott McClellan:
Helen, please. No one doubts us on trust. Sorry to cut you off, but you have to trust me. Trust is part of the Mainstreammedia's consensus view of me. Go check Mainstream's notes. Go check them. Before you ask another question, keep in mind, we have soldiers in harm's way.

Mainstreammedia:
Sorry to be so rough Scott. Happy Holidays.

Scott McClellan:
Thanks, oh ah..wait.. uh...holidays? Uh... Mainstream. Not uhhh sure, ahh if that's uhh. Look, let's just take it slow, ahh - hafta get back to you on that. The President, uhhh...ahh...uhhh, wants all Americans..uhh...

Les:
Ha! You're afraid to disagree Scott. What ever happened to Merry Christmas? Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!

Scott McClellan:
Les, you had your say. Come on everyone. Let's just slow down a bit. This press event must come to a close now. Harm's way. Soldiers. NineEleven. Trust. NineEleven. Ongoing. NineEleven.Thanks.



Scott McClellan leaves the podium. He is sweating from the grilling he just endured. The hands of a free press are hot hands indeed. In his worst nightmares, he never anticipated such a hostile media environment. Sometimes he wonders if it was all worth it. But the day is not over. Now he has to debrief the President. He whispers a modest prayer to himself, hoping the President is in a good mood. Did the President see the grilling? On the one hand he hopes he did. On the other hand, he is not sure. Much depends on the President's mood.

As he walks into the Oval Office, Scott notices the President is lying on the floor with his favorite pillow near the fireplace. He is playing the Strat-O-Matic baseball boardgame with Barney, his dog. At first the President does not notice Scott, so he continues chatting with Barney. The President calls these chats barkversations. Barney barks, then the President barks back. Both seem to understand and respect each other on a very deep level . Scott envies the level of communication Barney has with the President. Sometimes Scott thinks to himself that Barney should be the Press Secretary, if that would help to communicate the President's vital message during this time of terror. Barney is the President's best friend. Scott's just staff. Valued staff indeed, but staff nonetheless.



Scott McClellan:
Mr. President, I just briefed the press. I want to review...


President Bush:
Briefed the press? Where? In the Gulf of Mexico? What's that smell? Ew, Scott The Stinkbomb. Did you soil yourself? You smell like Hell.


Scott McClellan:
Uhhhh.....ahhhhh......

President Bush:

No excuses Scott. Never let 'em see you sweat or smell your smell. Next time just take some salt tablets and beta blockers. Maybe some B12 too. Might be a good idea to wear "Depends" adult diapers for briefs too, especially if you expect to de-brief me afterwards. When I said I want "the poop," I meant I want the news of the day. I do not want the actual poop in your pants. Anyway, that was one tough grilling you got. Helen was viscous. Viscous. Viscous. Vicious. Abu Grillen', almost.

Scott McClellan:
Uh...ah..Yes, it appears Helen does not trust you. I'm sorry sir.

President Bush:
Nice try Scott. Don't shift blame. I saw the exchange. Helen never mentioned me. She did mention you. A couple of times she said you were wrong. She asked whether or not you can be trusted. She did not mention me once. Personally, I get along with Helen. Leave me out of your dust up. I have enough to worry about without getting involved with one of your little spats with reporters - this pesky press stuff.

Scott McClellan:
Sorry sir. Accountability. My fault. Standards.

President Bush:
Those media jackals went after you just like Barney goes after a buried bone. Sometimes when Barney's asleep, I move the buried bone, just for a friendly tease. Barney starts looking for the bone again in the morning at the old spot, because some of the bone scent remains. Eventually Barney realizes that the bone is not there, but only after he makes a funny waste of valuable potential dogbone-time. I feel a little guilty, but I always apologize to Barney. He forgives me. Scott, word to the wise, think of yourself as a human dogbone, a Scottbone, who can hide himself anew after each press conference. Maybe Reburiedscottbone should be your new nickname. We'll see. Has a ring to it. Maybe I'll adjust it. Maybe I'll shorten it. So long as it illustrates my Scottbone reburial theory. Tomorrow morning, the press dogs will start digging for you again, in all your Scottbone-osity, in all those old Scottbone burial locations. Make sure to move the Scottbone, but leave some Scottbone-scent for trick bait. By the time those press dog reporters realize the Scottbone went missing, the news-cycle will have changed.

Scott McClellan:
Excellent advice, Mr. President.

President Bush:
I see they singled you out for some grief on the Holiday/Christmas issue too. That's just wrong. These so-called liberals are not very tolerant, huh? No manners. Sorry to see them put you in that position.

Scott McClellan:
Uh, no problem sir. Politics.

President Bush:
Taking one for the team? Good for you. If you had a jib, I'd like the cut of it.

Scott McClellan:
Thank you sir. Much appreciated. I replied to ...

President Bush:
Scotso, you know this "War on Christmas" stuff is not exactly my bag. I don't really see it. Really. You don't see me pushing it, do you? If some wanna play that tune, maybe that's ok, but not me. Maybe Karl wants it to fester a bit - breed some anxiety stink for later on? Me? Bambozzzle !!! I already got lots of wars going on. I'm not prejudiced either Scott. No siree, not a bit. I think I've been pretty inclusive. You catch?

Scott McClellan:
Yes sir. Might be a distraction sir.

President Bush:
Ha, you catch my drift and I catch yours. Catch as catch can. Right Ho, Paleepoo! Incidentally Scotty, not to toot my own horn, but I think you'll have to agree, I've been very inclusive. I've been a pretty good friend to Israel too. Some say better than my Dad. Agree?

Scott McClellan:
Uhhh, I guess, I er ah, Agree? Yes. Nothing against your Dad, sir. Not sure what ...

President Bush:
Thanks Scott. I'll let you go and wash up. You've had a tough day and all. I'm no Bush to beat around the bush. Look, I just want to wish you and your whole family a happy Hanukkah. Think of me and Laura when you light those candles. If you have a Hanukkah bush, think of this Bush. Right buddy?

Scott McClellan:
Um...ahh.. um...ahh...Hanukkah?

President Bush:
Something wrong Scotso? Any prejudice 'bout your heritage? Any problem, you just come and tell me. Don't believe anyone in the eliteliberalmedia who thinks I'm prejudiced. You know that ain't so.Is he the right man for the job? Is she the right woman for the job? Do they serve my interests as well as I serve America's interests? Do they serve my interests as well as I serve the interests of the world? That's all I ask. Ask Colin. Ask Karen. Ask Condi. Ask Norm. Ask Alberto. Ask all the others. Look, I'm proud to have you work here, playing pin cushion for the press and all that. I tell everyone. Same went for Ari. Incidentally, Ari was good. Sometimes he even stuck them back. Ari's a good man. He's a better man than Paul O'Neil; that's for sure. Ari knew when to speak and now, dammit, he knows when to keep his trap shut, on key issues.

Scott McClellan:
Um...ahh..oh...um...ahh..Mr. President...um.. ahh

President Bush:
Don't be defensive. Gotta demand 'spect Scotso? Don't let them make you feel self-conscious? Be proud of who you are and you do. By your fruits and stuff. Think about it: God's chosen people, God's chosen President, President's chosen Press Secretary. Do the math, for Chrissakes! It all adds up in your favor, right? Kemosabe kemotherapy! Be firm! Be solid! Be Texas! Happy Hanukkah!

Scott McClellan:
Um...ahh,..oh..I'm not..ahh,um..ah..umm, Mr. President, thanks, but I'm, ah.. not,..ahh..um.ahh

President Bush:
Don't be defensive. Just relax. If you can't chill around me, where can you chill? You're among friends. Go and wash up Scott. Get ready to hide that Scottbone of yours anew. Tomorrow's a new day.

Scott McClellan:
Thank you sir, but I'm not, ahh, uh,..(gulp)...uhh.ahh,..I'm actually not, ah.. uh, oh..Thanks..ah..oh.hmm..uh.I'll have to,..uh... talk to you tomorrow. Clarify some stuff.

President Bush:
Hey Scott, (The President stands to face Scott and raises his glass of chocolate milk with its bits of floating graham cracker high above his head, in a toast.) ... L'Chaim !!!! (After bellowing this to Scott, the President chugs downs the whole chocolate milk-graham cracker mix, then he turns around and smashes the empty milk glass into the Oval Office fireplace.)

Scott McClellan:
Huh?

President Bush:
Consider yourself bucked up! (The President smiles and Barney barks in assent. Drops of chocolate milk cluster in the corners of the President's mouth, while crums of graham cracker pepper his left shoulder.) Scotso, you did ok. You're gonna be okay. Go on home now, rest and wash up. Now I gotta wash up before the First Lady gets back. (The President straightens up into a severe mock-soldierly posture, then he gives Scott a paternalistic wink.) I'll See Ya' Later, Escalator!

Thursday, December 15, 2005

Future Bush Script: Bush & Hitchens


Andy Card:
Xbox 360 ?

President Bush:
QUIET!!! Dweebacle- You're blocking the screen . Go get me cheeseburgers - oh, by the way, clean your shirt - you have ketchup stains all over it. 'Murican pee-pol want White House discipline, honor and dignity.

Andy Card:
Yes Mr. President. Sorry Mr. President

President Bush:
Stop apologizing - No wonder your lonely. When you're no longer staff, you'll wanna get out and meet someone, maybe settle down. Women sense weakness. You know - instinct and intuition - it's in their hormoney; the experts call it hydrogen. Chemistry. Makes 'em moody, but powerful.

Andy Card:
Uh, ... I'm married, Mr. President. My wife is a Minister. You've known ....


President Bush:
Yeah, Yeah,Yeah - Then confess to her, not to me, A.C.... (President tosses a Doritio and half a Fig Newton at Card)

Andy Card:
Ok Mr. President, Yes Mr. President, I'll be back soon. Medium? Medium rare?

President Bush:
What are you doing?

Andy Card:
Cleaning my shirt - getting the ketchup stains out, looking professional, respecting the office. Standards. You asked me to, Mr. President. I'll get those burgers.

President Bush:
You're shirt was clean, Half-Deck. There was no Ketchup stain. Don't shift blame. Accountability. Why didn't you just say, "Mr. President, my shirt is spotless, there are no stains." You see Andy, sometimes you're weak - I'm here to help. You gotta learn to overcome that weakness. Now- go get us some cheeseburgers.

Andy Card:
Yes sir - Right to it sir. Thanks for the advice, Mr. President.

President Bush:
Hey - did you just come in here to just bust my chops and break my PlayStation chill? I'm in my wet spot right now. What's the matter with you? Xbox 360? Are you kidding? I'm old school, if it were up to me, I'd be back in the day - putting my quarters on the Asteroids machine, rather than collecting my quarters to buy hemorrhoids cream, beyotch.

Andy Card:
Oh yes, sorry Mr. President - I came to tell you that Christopher Hitchens is here to see you and discuss Kurdistan and the Iraq war.

President Bush:
Hitchens? Do I know him? Is he cool?

Andy Card:
Pretty cool - sort of, sometimes. Karl thinks he's useful

President Bush:
Karl's dweeby, but I've taken him under my wing - Maybe it's time to , you know, remind him of his place in the Dubyaverse.

Andy Card:
Yes sir - couldn't agree more. Time to remind. Time to remind. Maybe let him know. I'll let Hitchens in and get the cheeseburgers.

President Bush:
Watch yourself, Half. You're not exactly Delta material yourself. Don't get too far ahead of yourself. Capicey Cooly? One medium. One medium rare. One with pickle. One without. Mustard on the side. Bring in this Hitchens. Remember, details are important. Keep those ketchup stains out, you shoes clean, your hair combed, check your fly, your tie, and never let 'em see you lose your cool.

Card adjusts his tie, which was fine to begin with.Then he checks his fly, notices it fine, but in an abundance of obsequious caution, pretends to zip it anyway. As he goes to dust off his shoes, which are spotless, the President commands his attention.


President Bush:
What are you doing? Everything is fine. Why pretend otherwise? Life is tough enough as it is.

Andy Card:
Yes sir. As you say, it's the details that count sir. Standards.

President Bush:
Don't shift blame. It's not what I said that's at issue here. Better be carefull; you don't wanna be demoted; you don't wanna be a QUARTER-Deck.

Andy Card:
Yes sir. No, please don't demote. Sorry sir. Hitchens and cheeseburgers - gotta go get them.

----------------------------------------

Card exits the scene as Hitchens walks in. At the last second, The President calls out to Card by his diminutive 'Half-Deck.' Bush throws Card a football jersey in what seems like, to Card, slow motion. On the back of the jersey, the name "Mean Joe Dubya," is printed in bold letters. Card catches the jersey, smiles, then leaves.

The original inspiration for this managerial morale booster was the President's favorite old TV commerical, which he watches when he wants to "get psyched." In the commercial, one of the President's role models, legendary pro football tough guy "Mean Joe Greene," refreshes himself post-game with a Coca-Cola. "Mean Joe" then shows his compassionate side by tossing a used jersey to a young fan. Hoping to leverage these kind of sentiments, Karen Hughes had thousands of "Mean Joe Dubya" jerseys printed up. When they failed to win over many voter blocs, Hughes decided to re-deploy the high quality jerseys by giving them to favored staff, big donors, key diplomats and visiting heads of state.

A mini-scandal ensued, when a discarded jersey was found in a dumpster outside the French embassy, one night after a Christmas party. This led to a boycott of Euro-Disney by some Steelers fans, a boycott of Paris by three counties in West Texas, and rumors of a boycott targeted at Cote d'Azure, by the O'Reilly show.

-----------------------------------------

President Bush:
Who are you?

C. Hitchens:
I am Hitchens. Who, pray tell, did you think I was? Frere Peter? Brer Rabbitt? Uncle Remus? Mister Dooley?

President Bush:
You are Hooch. That is your name - Hooch! Say it! (The President, inverts his forearm, then snaps a bottle cap toward Hitchens, just missing his face.)

C. Hitchens:
I am not Hooch, I am Hitch. My nickname is Hitch. Let's be clear. Mr. President. I am sorry to say, this one time, you have been pre-empted ....

President Bush:
Not Hitch, bumble bee-otch!!! You're Hooch. I no longer drink, but Karl says you like a drop. No big deal. My staff hears so much gossip, they should be wearing hairdriers. Maybe Karl or Scooter heard that from someone in the liberalmedia. Maybe it was Judy Miller, or Matt Cooper, or Russert? Who cares? So you are my Hooch, my drink, not my pooch. Blair is my poodle. Poodle is a pooch, but you are my hooch. Blair and Hitch. You're both My Slimey Limeys! Ha Ha! Poodle and Hooch, Starsky and Hutch or whatever - just accept it bimbo. Don't be uncool. What can I do for ya? I'll tell ya what you can do for me, keep your shadow and your I-have-A-Coupon-For-A-Roy-Rogers-Bacon-Burger body from blocking Da PlayStation game screen - this ain't yo mamma's Space Invaders I'm playing, playa!

C. Hitchens:

Holy Mary, Mother of Modernism ...

President Bush:
Waooooossss, you saaaaaaayin, superfly?

C. Hitchens:
Nothing really - basically just talking to myself, trying to recall why I'm here, ahh - Look, you're a very busy man, as I can see. So am I. Let's get down to business.


President Bush:
Hey, I'm busy. I'm a busy bee! Work, Work, Work, Heeeeelllllllloooo Boys, I missed, Ya. Hahahahhaha. You now what movie that's from? I've seen Blazing Saddles more than I care to admit. Hahahhahahahah. I understand you support E-rack-ee Freedom. You support my war? Good for you.


C. Hitchens:
Support your war? Look closely, Mr. President. Do your see these crenellations on my frontal lobe? See these embrasures below my eyelids?

President Bush:
Maybe, if I looked. I'm busy. What's your point, Englishman.

C. Hitchens:
You said "my war." Who do think is doing the fighting? While the military deserves its share of credit, 'tis Hitch who keeps the Free Iraq flag flying high, above the ramparts, at least in most upscale publications. Mr. President, I have been the one, manning the ideological Battlements, enduring the seige, the relentless seige, as it pounds and pounds and pounds. This is my war, Mr. President, my soul is slashed, as if by porcupine quills.

President Bush:
Let me ask you a question.

C. Hitchens:
Let me give you an answer.

President Bush:
Do you have an Xbox or a PlayStation?

C. Hitchens:
Frankly, Mr. President, I'm hear to talk about Kurdistan. Do you mind of I smoke?

President Bush:
Um, ah..smoke? (President Bush looks around, and down the hall) I dunno if it's safe.

C. Hitchens:
Is smoking safe? Say it ain't so, Jellicoe. You kept that sinister smoking ban? Instituted by that Hoary Hecate, Hillary ...

President Bush:
Hillary who? Hillary Clinton? What whores? What cats? You love Hillary, right? Half-Deck says you're a commie, just like her.

C. Hitchens:
Love her? Love her? Hillary - the face that launched a thousand sh*ts? I'd let the Trojans capture and keep her, while we feast about our fast ships. I loath Hillery with all of my sinews. Molecules, formerly in extremely pleasant places, within my being, run in rampant madness when ever I hear her name. I fear she is a most dreaded witch. I speak my piece, not peace.

President Bush:
Trojans? Sorry pal, we are officially 'absintence only' - you know, the "base" and Karl's advice and stuff. Interesting idea though. I don't care if you smoke. However, I gotta tell you, I'm Mr. Clean, just like that guy on the deoderant bottle. I have no pipe in here. The wife and kids are out of town, so maybe you can have a looksee around, see what you find. Maybe some old bottles, flasks, tin foil, or even an apple, Mr. handyman? The candyman can. The candyman can. Anyway, nothing wrong with witches Hooch. Witches can be hot. Remember that TV show with the witch, Samantha? She lived in a lantern or a treehouse or shoe or something. She was hot. What's your fantasy wish, from a witch, Hooch? You want a Dorito?


C. Hitchens:
Good God. I only want to smoke a Rothman's cig. I left the Gauloises's at home, out of respect.

President Bush:
Whatever your into, Hooch. I just want it on the record - Dubya don't party no more. Not sayin, I ever did, you know I mean (wink, wink). Family values. The base. Word. You mentioned Kurdistan?

C. Hitchens:
Gracious of you to notice. Yes. Kurdistan. You do know that I love her so! . She is like a Hectic in my blood; Indeed, I am sick with love. Shouldn' t the whole world be so ill? Very well then. I am concerned. There are hints of trouble. Our relationship is strained. She fears abandonment. She is very worried. She has been betrayed before. She has "commitment issues." I am at a loss, trying to re-assure. Alas, I am just a man.

President Bush:
Maybe this sounds harsh, but you know what I think you should do?

C. Hitchens:
Wither wilt thou lead me? Speak : I will follow thee.


President Bush:
Dump her, Hooch. Dump her like a cold stack of pancakes. It does no good ...

C. Hitchens:
Mr. President, you miss my point, er....

President Bush:
Hey, did you just me cut me off? Before you even think about interrupting me again - have a look at England's GNP and their missle budget. Then take a look at mine. Poochy Tony don't mouth off, neither should Hoochy pony. BAMBOZZLE! Where were we. Kurdistan. Look, women are emotional. She will cry. Ultimately though, it's for her good. Don't string her along. Dump her. Vamose. Gone. Bye-bye! Look, your're British. You have stiff lips and sh*t. You ever heard of Winston Churchill? He was before your time.

C. Hitchens:
Churchill? Indeed, I have.

President Bush:
Well look, Churchill never met me, cause I'm basically your age, but Walter Churchill, or was it Winston, once said - Now, don't quote me precise and all- I have it written down on pizza box upstairs -From memory , he said, basically, no one is indispensible. Churchill said the graves of England are piled high with indispensible women. Jeez - That sounds harsh even though I am pro death penalty. In other words, Churchill, even with a name that was part Church, thought the indispensible were dispensibile. Yikes. Do the math, Egghead. Now, maybe unlike Churchill, I'm not implying it may be ok to harm anyone. I'm just saying you should dump her for her own good, as well as your own chill-osity. You ain't getting younger. Time to get your groove back, Hooch. Time to find your wet spot, your comfort level. What was her name again? I forgot. I'm busy as a bumble bee.


C. Hitchens:
Uh, Kurdistan

President Bush:
Yeah , Kurdistan. Parents hippies? Hey! There's also city in E-Rack with that name, I think. Hooch, you dating an Oriental from E-rack? Ha! - Whatever. Bottomline, still the same. Ya gotta dump her, like a cold stack of pancakes. Do you think Harriet is a pretty name? I could set you up. Womb has some single friends too.

C. Hitchens:
Womb?

President Bush:
Womb - Sorry, that's the First Lady's nickname. She's my wife, Laura. Don't touch. Double Womb is my Mom, who was also First Lady for my Dad. Double don't touch, Hooch. Hey, America ain't wombded with three wombs. I mean 'Murica. Ha!

C. Hitchens:
Mr. President, to be clear, Charles de Gaulle once noted, in reference to his own indispensible role, that "the cemetaries are full of indispensible men." In other words, De Gaulle was being modest, perhaps falsely, suggesting France will make do with or without him. Now, I assure you, I am not familiar with Churchill saying what you said he said. It's s
o similar, yet so different. Very well then, where were we? Kurdistan. My concern is not with any woman named Kurdistan. Does such a woman exist? I doubt. I doubt. My concern is with the Kurdish area of Iraq, along with all the women in it, not any woman in particular. I am concerned that problems may develop. What if Turkey invades when the Kurds say, "'tis time to part" from Iraq, the nation you and I so gallantly liberated . Cyprus redux? Regarding our oil in Kirkuk, does not Kudistan deserves fair play? Further, it is not too late to seek a newer world. A newer world is coming, whether you wish to seek it or not. Find her first, I say, before she finds you. The dialectic is moving. A good nudge from you is needed to prevent the dialectic from heading off in the wrong direction.

President Bush:
Ah yes, that Kurdistan. That's what I thought. You wus. Don't worry about E-rack. All the women in Kurdistan? Ha! You know what they say, "dialectics are a girls best friend," you dirty dog. Woof Woof Woof!! Forget about the rest of E-rack. 'Murican pee-pol gave me a mandate. God told me to invade, so I invaded. That's my story, and I'm stickin' with it, sometimes. It's in God's hands now. Say your prayers. You worry about stuff you cannot control, like these Oriental girlfriends of yours. Don't worry about E-rack. Be nice to the ladies, though. PlayStation?


C. Hitchens:
Pray? Who prays? Iraq is in your hands. What are you saying? - By the way, I am married- I have no "Oriental" girl friend, much less girlfriends. However, I am touched by your thoughts, not to mention your Anglophilic...


President Bush:
I ain't no Albino fogie. Thats what the liberalmedia tried to pin of Forty-One, just cause he was from New England and not poor. I'm a Texan. Thank God, Dad, and Yale for that. Old times. You're getting all nostralogic. Do you recall the old days, when those old Space Invader machines were still the most popular games. Lots of change spent. Way back when, that is. Where were we, you got us all sidetracked. Iran? Syria?


C. Hitchens:
Pardon? Ah, nostalgia. We go back from whence we came. Let us talk of that, but let us talk of many other things. Let us discuss Iraq, history, and memory. You called me "Englishman." Let us stipulate, just for now, that you are correct about that. Is not England playing Greece to your Rome? If so, indulge my Attic babble. Afterall, it is for your pleasure, not mine. This is your Court. This weary old Hellene, was not once, but is so now, your servent, albeit not very humble. Whilst I now praise famous men, if not the fathers who begat them, I am aware, as are you, that your father was once, where you are now. Do you recall? We were so young. We are so much older now. Much we have seen. More we have learned. Though we pause to reflect, fate remains our clock. Time has strengthened us still. What your father began, you shall finish. You have become greater than your father. As a modern Roman, you are playing Titus to your father's Vaspasian. Complete your father's work, I say, as Titus completed Vaspasian's. The Bush dynasty's conquest of Iraq may be as profound and world-historical as the ancient Roman triumph in Judea, about which we still hear much chatter. Will there be an Arch of Dubya erected in Crawford, just as the Arch of Titus was erected in Rome? Do note, this is a rather piquant allusion. Politically problematic historical allusions, should not be referenced in public; they should be whispered about coyly, among the esteemed Philosophers. For you, I counsel some quietism. Incidentally, other than to see a triumphant Arch, why would anyone ever wish to visit a terra-furnace like Crawford, Texas? Help to visualize Gehenna? Some things are just beyond me, fortunately. I do say, your rhetorical flourish - labeling everyone East of Suez, as "Oriental," triggered in me, a Proustian moment. Your talk of the Orient, my earlier reading of Kipling, add in some plum pudding, rather than madelaines, and it all reminds me of my father, my British heritage, and my family's service to the Empire. Incidentally, my father, served in Her Majesty's Royal Navy....


President Bush:
I accept your apology. You don't like Crawford? Hmm. There actually is a MickeyDees Arch pretty nearby. Anyhoo, you think I'm better than Dad? That's Interesting. Hey, does Silvio Burlesconi know about this Titus? Titus is a funny name. If he had a sister, I bet she was teased. Hehe. Wait a sec. Does the name Susie Titus ring a bell? Way back when. Skidmore? Vasser, maybe? Might be confusing someone. Like you said, we're getting older, but oh boy, we were young once. Ha. I'll have Karen check. Six degrees and roads leading to Rome and stuff? Anyway, we all have fathers. But we don't pray to them, we may use their houses as crash pads and we use their boats and stuff and get their pals to buy stuff and all. However. We don't pray to those fathers. We only pray to the Father. The Big Guy In The Sky!


C. Hitchens:
Hmm, Dick Cheney in a jumbo jet? Otherwise, I'm not a Godist. I'm an anti-theist.


President Bush:
Woooooooo - Mr. Complicated, are you the anti-Christ? Like in that movie ...

C. Hitchens:
Uh no, but I do oppose many of the policy positions attributed to the distinguished gentleman from Nazareth. Compared to you, He seemed a bit soft on crime. Was he not prematurely postmodern, what with his eclectic relativism? I'm puzzled many conservative stalwarts claim to support him. He would probably be to the left of Sen. Feingold on Pentagon spending. Would He have supported last years highway bill in the GOP controlled Congress? With all that pork? Not if he was observant. That's just my humble opinion. Also, with regard to Roman Imperial strategy, Jesus's main cell, the Apostles, failed to grasp the ...


President Bush:
Stop. So you don't really believe in Jesus. What about the Holy Spirit?


C. Hitchens:
Aqua Vitae? Can blended whiskey be called Holy ? If not, neither can the smoke from my Rothman's. Maybe I believe in some unholy spirits. Maybe I believe in aspects of Jesus's platform. Jesus's economic views, though inchoate, seem to have been heading in my direction. Pragmatic market-based socialism? Also, since I'm against the death penalty, if I lived back then, obviously I would have sat on panel discussions in opposition to all that Golgatha madness. Calvary in ancient Judea? Count me against. Cavalry in modern Iraq? You know where I stand.


President Bush:
I'll have to get back you on the death penalty. What about God? You said you don't believe in God? OK, If there is no God, why not just play PlayStation all day? If there is no God to say that's wrong, then what? Think about it. Ok -- I'll give you 50 percent score on Jesus, a 50 percent score on the Holy Spirit, but you get a zero score on God. That's one outta three. 1/3. You fail. Hey - you know what, I once failed a class, but I still graduated Yale, Ha! Since Blair is my Poodle Pooch and Putin is my Pooty-Poot, I need you around, Hooch. You get a pardon from me. Guess who God talks to? You're lucky. I'm glad to help you with your chickie problems. No Oriental girlfriend, you say? No problem. Do you like Afro- American women or African-American maybe, I think. It changes, you know it was black, then whateve. Anyway. Condi is single, upscale, pro-war, well-educated...


C. Hitchens:
No thanks, I'm married, Mr. President - I think I better quit while I'm ahead - or while I still have a head.


President Bush:
Ok... bimbo. You don't believe in God, but you do believe in ME right? In Moi? Go on, say it, say Moi-uncle or Moiuncle. Haha.


C. Hitchens:
Car c'est à toi qu'appartiennent le règne, la puissance et la gloire, pour les siècles des siècles.

President Bush:
Que pasa, Lumpy?


C. Hitchens:
Yes, I believe in you. Do I have a choice? Thine is the Kingdom, the power, and the glory, for ever and ever, or at least I until patch things up with old lefty friends and maintain my green card status and ...


President Bush:
Why speak French? Don't be a Snobby Slimey Limey Hoochy - an SSLH?


C. Hitchens:
Habit, maybe. You used the French word "moi," so I decided to engage. In any event, you may find a measure of French to be quite useful in your Court, if for no other reason than to protect many simple ears from hearing your complicated thoughts, such as they are. Sometimes leadership compells one to protect the rabble in the marketplace from itself. Also, speaking French pisses off all the right people.


President Bush:
What marketplace? Barney Rubble? Whatchoo talkin' 'bout, Mr. Flintstone? Ha, so "Moi" is French? Gotta stop using that one. No wonder Jackass Chiracass was confused when I kept calling him Mister Moi. Anyway, your excuse sounds cool, Dweebacle. You can go now. Game time. Glad to help.


C. Hitchens:
Dweebacle? That's ghastly.


President Bush:
Ghastly? Not me pal. He who smelt it, dealt it. Watch what you eat Hooch. Don't you know there's a war on???



Picture Credit : Seen in many places around the blogosphere. Not aware of its origin, but probably came out when it was reported Bush enjoyed video games during the campaign. Since the President has a sense of humor, as does Hitchens.They both get the last laugh.