Short Story Loosely Based On US Policy In The Middle East

I read an article condemning Jimmy Carter’s trip to meet with some of the leaders of Hammas. The article was on Darryl Cagle’s political cartoon website and it was written by, of all people, Oliver North. Rollie pollie Ollie and the Contra Rebels who brought us one of this country’s most embarrassing moments when his illegal arms for drugs, er airplane parts for Iranian planes took place in the Reagan administration’s years. What a joke! Ollie North criticizing Jimmy Carter! If the Bush administration (and Clinton, Bush I, Reagan) would have kept up the initiative of the Carter administration and kept the talks active and the pressure on both the Israelis and Palestinians, Jimminy Carter would not have had to hop off to Hammas and try again to broker peace in the region. Here's what might have happened with the Bush Administration's plan for Peace in the Middle East from my wild imagination.

The phone rings on President Bush's desk but he can’t get to it, he’s on the toilet reading a Rush Limbaugh book.

Mr. Bush, “Darn it, now who is it? It has taken me seven years to get to page 44 but it was worth it. I finally got all of my advisor’s to just say “Ditto, sir” when asked their opinions. It has saved lots of time and tax payer money and allowed me to make decisions in a rapid yet supportive manner. Ha, here's to you, Frank Rich and your New York Times! You won’t be so quick to call me stupid anymore! That’s a great beginning to my legacy! Darn I wish Nancy Pelosi was here. She can clean me up better than anyone on my staff!”

The answer machine clicks in: “Hi, you’ve reached the desk of the president of the United States. To continue in English, press one. (Beep, the sound of “one” being pressed.) If this is Putin or Ahmadinejad, get lost. If this is New Orleans, I did all I’m going to do! Quit calling, I don’t have the bus keys! Anyone else, leave a message, I know where the erase button is and how to use it!” Beep!

Condoleeza Rice’s voice: “Good morning, Mr. President, I was just hanging around by the pool and enjoying breakfast. Nothing’s going on, except your magnificent war in Iraq, and the rest of the week looks good, too. If you don’t mind, sir, I think I’ll take this week off and do a little shopping. I’ll see you next Monday for your staff meeting. Thank you my husb, er, president. Muwha!”

Mr. Bush tries to wipe and put the book down at the same time. He’s gotten better, he has at least not dropped the book into the toilet while attempting to fold the toilet paper! Never mind!

Bush yells; “Oh not again, now I’ll have to buy another book! I have made that idiot Limbaugh rich! Oh well, the information it contains is priceless. I mean, who’d pay for it? Oh, I made a joke! I must make note of it for my legacy – sparkling wit.”

The president returns Ms. Rice’s call. “Condi, hi it’s me. George. The president! Yeah, hi, how was your breakfast? Oh, good, good, good. Condie, I don’t care about the pancakes, OK? Before you take the rest of the week off, do you think you could call Olmert and set up some talks between him and the Jordanians? Why the Jordanians? Because they’re both in the Middle East and we should do something about the Israeli’s difficulties with their neighbors. It will look good in my legacy. Well, yes it will be a lot better than trying to talk with the Palestinians. Those sheet heads are always crying about civil rights and the fact that the Israelis destroy the Palestinian neighborhoods and kill their children in retaliation for the suicide bombings. Well, forget them! There’s no oil in Palestine, why should we listen to them? Come to think of it, there’s no oil in Israel, either. So why are we supporting them? I’ll call you back, Condi.”

Mr. Bush presses a button on his intercom. The answer: “Nancy Pelosi; Hi darling, we getting together soon?”

Mr. Bush; “Sorry, Nancy, not right now. I pressed the wrong button. Bye.”

He tries again. Answer: “Lincoln Bedroom; John McCain speaking.”

Mr. Bush: “Oh, sorry John, go back to sleep.”

John McCain: “OK, Mr. President. I will, Mr. President. I love your war, Mr. President. Oh, and please tell his holiness, the Pope, thank you for the rosary. And when you see him again, could you ask him what it’s used for?”

Bush: “Ask him yourself, he’s lying right next to you!”

John McCain, “Is that who that is? I did not recognize him without his pointy hat. He wouldn’t leave me alone; all night he wanted me to play this game called ‘Yes, Your Eminence, I am the altar boy of your dreams!’ I told him to take his hands off me, I’m not a Catholic, a Democrat or gay.”

Mr. Bush, “Good work, John, I knew you could handle him. After all, you must have experienced worse horrors in the Hanoi Hilton. No? Not even close, huh. Well, try and get some sleep. After all you are running for president and you have some big shoes to fill. Mine, you idiot!”

Bush tries another button. Answer: “Laura Bush. What do you want, dummy?”

Frustrated, he gets out from behind the desk, walks over to the door, opens it and yells “Where is Bob Gates?”

Voice from down the hall answers: “He’s out hunting quail with Dick Cheney! Dummy!”

Mr. Bush: “Laura, is that you? Never mind. Oh no, now I’ll need another Secretary of Defense!”

Bush goes back to his desk and places a call. “Good morning, General Patraeous! How are things going? What’s that? No, I understand, General, take time to duck and cover, I’ll wait.”

After several minutes: “Yeah, general, the reason I called was to ask if you have any small nuclear devices laying around that you could spare? You know, like a hand grenade or something. Well, I know they don’t make nuclear hand grenades – who’d try to use one? Right? No I guess I’m thinking of a small missile, you know, that won’t start a nuclear war but will send one heck of a message. I was wondering if you could send a couple of them into Palestinian territory, you know, mess up a couple of neighborhoods and let them know that we’re pretty much on Israel’s side. After all we want God to like us, too! You’ll see what you can do? That would be great, general. What’s that, do I know Frank Rich’s phone number? Not off hand, I’ll transfer you to Information.”

Bush thinks: “Wow, what a chapter this will make. I can see the headline now; ‘Vigorous work by Bush and his army convince the fifty four remaining Palestinians that their situation is hopeless and they agreeably sign a peace treaty with Israel’. The chapter will tell how I alone came up with the idea of a small nuclear device to get and hold the Palestinian’s attention long enough to convince them to sign a peace treaty. I’ll have the best legacy ever!”

Bush places another call, "Uncle Dick! Hi it's little George! Can we do lunch? I have something to tell you! You'll be so proud of me, Uncle Dick!