Dear George Bush (Sigh)…

1600 Pennsylvania Blvd.  Washington, DC 20006

Dear George,

  I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, George, but if it weren’t for your father, who got me out of an embarrassing scrape with the Shore Patrol in 1943, I wouldn’t answer any of the dozens of postcards you send me every week.  I’ve told you time and again that I’m on vacation.  And now you want Me to smite someone… again.  George, if I smote everyone you asked Me to, there wouldn’t be anyone left but you, Laura, Barney and Grima Wormtongue.  Anyway, this guy was only doing his job.  If you’d spend a little more time doing yours and less asking Me for things, we’d all be happier.  By the way, that other guy you want smitten?  Same answer.

  George, your Daddy has gotten Me to pull you out of a lot of messes over the years, but I think My New Year’s resolution for 2009 is going to be to try a little tough love and quit answering your postcards.

Wish You Were Here, (instead of the White House),



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