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Suddenly It's 2065
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 now."

"Dora Bush -- B-U-S-H -- as in rose bush."

"Sorreeee, madam, but there's no one here by the name of Rose Bush."

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.

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