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June 12, 2003

Hello Faddah:

Remember that night during the Republican Convention in New Orleans back in 1988 when you sort of felt like Michael Dukakis had just driven a tank over your head? Remember how we talked in that little Bourbon Street bistro at 3 AM after spending all night snorting those little fake sugar packets? We started with that philosophical debate about how you hoped that Danny Quayle would beat that son-of-a-bitch Lloyd Bentsen in the Vice Presidential debate so you could get even for that 1970 US Senate race in Texas?

I think we need to go back to New Orleans soon. It's time for some soul-searching. I did something a little questionable that some might eventually start seeing as a high crime or a misdemeanor. Now, don't get upset, it's nothing like sleeping with an intern on the same sacred carpet where Mom's Millie once messed on the floor. It's just a little fib I told the American people to get rid of that evil Saddam. It wasn't even a fib, really. It was BASED on truth! You, yourself said that ol' Saddam has been using so much Brylcreem on his head recently he could set off a massive oil fire that would challenge Red Adair and his Hellfighters. I replied that his hair represented a weapon of mass destruction. Somehow, I got that idea in my head, and the twins — Barb and Jen — kind of were working college paper about oil fires and I sort of borrowed this report to show Rummy, Ari and Colin one night. Well, one thing leads to another, and pretty soon Colin was bringing the paper before the entire United Nations on live television yet.
Anyway, now everyone thinks that I told the world that Saddam had weapons of mass destruction — which of course I never thought. After all, I'm not dumb enough to go after some guy who could make us look like the Texas Rangers baseball team — especially when I was running them. Why the hell, do you think I stay out of North Korea?
Still, the idea seemed to sell the idea of wiping out Saddam like we planned. Before I knew it, they were knocking down Saddam's statue in Baghdad and those representatives of Hollywood Republicans for Bush — all 12 of them — captured the spirit of that moment of victory even better than our valiant recapture of Private Jessica Lynch. Everyone I knew said all I did to promote this war effort as commander-in-chief would capture either a national book award for fiction or an Oscar® for best original screenplay.
Yet, now some people are beginning to QUESTION my actions, like I'm not the Emperor here and I should care what the American people think. There are even some Democrats who believe what I did was worse than sleeping with an intern!
Hey Dad, I don't want to lose my job. Have you seen what this economy is like since I took office? Besides, I have concerns about Dick Cheney's health. If he thinks for a minute that he's got to be the front man for this administration, he'll have another heart attack! Besides, Dick's got so much work at Halliburton these days, he hardly has time to go to the US Senate every time we want to give ourselves another tax cut. I suppose I could appoint someone else as interim vice president, but Kenny Boy is busy writing legal briefs at Enron these days. If they indict him, it could also bring back some of those bad juju memories from the Nixon-Agnew years.
It's a good thing that the FCC made it possible for my good friend Rupert Murdoch to buy the Washington Post and fire those investigative reporters and hire Matt Drudge and Geraldo Rivera to cover the congressional investigations. I understand if Rupert Murdoch can buy the New York Times as well, he'll demonstrate his dedication to diversity by hiring back that nice black boy, Jayson Blair who worked for us here at the White House when we needed someone to write a White Paper on our economic policy.
Meanwhile, I'm getting worried about the sinking ship around here. More and more people are starting to leave. It was OK for Christie Whitman to go back to New Jersey — I didn't like her assessment of our report on Saddam's ecological evils — but with Bill Daniel's departure, our budget work seems to be in a bit of a hole. Now, there's even talk of Condi going back to California!
It's a good thing that when times go a bit dark I can always depend on Ari. Here he is now, for some reason he has a suit case and a plane ticket in his hand. "Ari? Are you going somewhere? Ari, Ari????"

Your son,

Georgie

   

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