April 19, 2002
By Bob Volpitto
The year is 2065. Georgie Bush is president. He's the grandson
of number 43. Unfortunately, the country has run out of Kennedys
but there are a lot of Bushes still around.
"Georgie, what are you doing? What is going on here?" Dora
Bush, Georgie's third wife, exclaims, rushing into the bedroom
located on the second floor's presidential living quarters
at the White House.
"What the blazes it look like I'm doin', Dora?" is Georgie's
curt reply. We, at least me, is goin' back to Crawford. Find
out where the vice president is at. Call 'im and tell IM to
take this job and shove it -- I quit!"
"You can't quit, Georgie, we're in a war remember? It's your
war. You inherited it from your grandfather. This war is a
family tradition. You just can't quit."
"The heck I can't. Tricky Dick Nixon quit in 1974. Gran'
Poppy Dubya did in 2003 and so can I. Yeah, I'm in a war all
right and I can't get out of it. Bobby Byrd, Tommy Daschle,
Dicky Gephardt, and even that smart pain in the butt Johnny
McCain -- all terrorists, all descendants from those SOB's
that did my Gran' Poppy in back in '03 are criticizin' the
way I'm handlin' my job. Have you seen them polls, Dora? Rover
Boy says my approval ratin' is down to 77%. I'm fallin' jest
like 41 and 43 done. Soon it'll be 67%, then 57% and before
you know it, it'll be 47% then 37%. I tell you, Dora, I jest
can't take it no more. I jest plain quit."
Confused, Georgie calls out, "Dora, Dora." She's no where
in sight. "Now where'd that dumb broad git to?"
The scene shifts to Mrs. Bush's small sitting room down the
hall. She is on the telephone. "Operator, get me through to
Vice President Meaney. Hurry this is a code red. Do you understand
me, it a code red!"
Dora hears from the other end of the line, "Vice President
Meaney's office at an undisclosed, secure location in Yucca
Mountain. May I help you?"
"Put Dicky Boy, errr, I mean the vice president on the line
immediately," Dora commands.
"Sorreeee, but Mr. Meaney is presently in conference. He's
planning next week's nuclear attack on China and he left orders
not to be disturbed."
"Listen to me, you bubble headed bleached blond this is Dora
Bush and ..."
"Who?" asks the operator. "And, by the way, I'm a red head
"Dora Bush -- B-U-S-H -- as in rose bush."
"Sorreeee, madam, but there's no one here by the name of
Exasperated, Dora puts down the phone and rushes back to
the bedroom. She plows into Georgie carrying a suitcase stuffed
with incriminating documents about numbers 41 and 43. "Georgie,"
she pleads tearfully, "you can't walk out on me like this.
For years I've dreamed of being the first lady, I knew someday
you'd marry me and I'd be a president's wife. You dog, Georgie
"Outa my way and call the girls at the Swiss convent and
tell 'em their daddy's no longer the president. They can come
home now an' booze it up, snort it up and raise all the hell
they want to. It don't matter no more." He dashes out a door
toward a waiting helicopter.
Georgie's chopper lifts off from the White House pad. In
its noisy, windy wake stands a distraught Dora Bush looking
skyward, tears rushing from her eyes. Her mascara streaks
down her cheeks, staining her Monica Lewinsky designed blue
dress. While seeing the presidential helicopter glide westward,
Dora notices several small chrome plated cylinders dangling
from tiny silk parachutes falling toward her. Each has a bright
red star painted on its sides along with the words "Made in
North Korea by Enron."
A series of blinding flashes accompanied by deafening roars
signal it's all over -- vaporized!
Meanwhile, at Yucca Mountain, now President Meaney and his
choice for vice president, Johnny Ashcroft, raise their glasses
in a victory toast. Meaney mimics the Bush family smirk as
he says, "It's all ours now, Jon. Call in the shadow government
managers. We've got work to do!"
Mr. Volpitto is a retired newspaper publisher, whose editorials
always reflected the progressive point of view.