by George W. Bush
Hey, I'm an optimist. Y'all know I'm a good Texas boy--got that good ol' Texas optimism. In Texas, we're the doers--the can-doers, I mean--and you got to believe that you can get that tree stump out of the ground or it's not gonna...um...you just gotta believe! That's all, end of discussion.
So, since I've been a role model to so many people, people are always asking me, "Hey, George, how do you show leadership? Hey, George, how do you do it? I want to know." Well, that's a good question. You see, I attribute most of my success to genetics--as in, I happen to be genetically related to one of the most notable Republican politicians of the 20th century, that's what I'm talking about. I also got my dad's nose. Noses are funny. But I guess my advice is to be the child of a really rich, successful person if you want to be successful, because God knows that that's the only way to get ahead anymore! Wait, this thing ain't taped, is it? I don't want this showing up in the next g-damn Michael Moore movie. Okay, movin' on.
I guess my next bit of advice is that you gotta work hard. I work really hard. Y'know, some days, I actually work from morning to night. A lot of people probably wonder what a typical day is like for the Prez Nigh Stays (sorry, that's how we Southerners pronounce President of the United States. I know-it's kind of catchy!). Well, I usually wake up around nine, nine-thirty. The Secret Service has orders not to enter the bedroom until 10:00. You never know what me 'n Laura are going to be up to...just kidding. Sex is gross. Anyway, by 10:30, at the latest, I'm in the Oval Office, listening to advisors, tending to the interests of the country. Then, at 11:00, you know what it's time for: LUNCH! I always order the same thing--chicken fried steak, biscuits and gravy, and arugula salad (are you blue staters HAPPY!). I usually don't drink liquor, although I confess I'm a little blattoed right now. Am I slurring too much? No. All right. So I usually take a long lunch, because who's going to say anything? I'm the President! My Chief of Staff, Josh Bolten, is always shooting me icy looks once 1:45 comes, but less often when I'm eating with heads of state, so I try to do that all the time. Josh always gives me these things to bring up, like "trade violations" or "nucular [sic] proliferation", but I'm just a simple country boy and I like to just talk with other people, figure out what they like and don't like, and if one of the former is America, we start trying to take them out. Then I...wait, did I just say...which one means the first one, former or latter...shit. OH, NO, I mean dadgum. Yeah. Wait, what was I saying? Oh, yeah, lunch. Nice, long lunch, steak, strawberry lemonade. By 2:00 I'm back in the Oval. That's usually when that douchebag Bob Gates comes in. He's the Secretary of Defense. I so miss Rummy--he'd come in and tell jokes about John Kennedy screwing interns from back when Rummy was in the House. But with Bob it's always "Sir, we have to talk about force protection," "Sir, Guantanamo is causing us so many problems," "Mr. President, our troop levels in Iraq are unsustainable," blah blah blah. I totally tune out. When he starts asking questions, I alternate between yes and no, and I look very thoughtfully at the paper in front of me, which more often than not is yesterday's crossword puzzle. I have my secretary cut them out of the Washington Times, then wait a day so that I can see the answers. Anyway, that's another one of those keys--make sure you alternate between yes and no when you're totally zoned out and/or drunk. You see, that way it doesn't seem like you're totally ignoring what they have to say, but you're not giving them what they want, either. I used to start with a yes, then move on to a no, but I learned that one the hard way after some Democrat asked me if I believed that global warming was real. Wait...wait a goddam minute, aren't I supposed to have six of these things? Ah, shoot. Okay, let me think--could you go back and number them for me? How many more of these I gotta do? So there was optimism, the thing about being rich - good one, huh?, the thing I was trying to prove by talking about my day, and the yes and no thing--wait, was there another one? No? Okay, I can do four more, no big deal...
Can you believe that so many people hate me? Why? I know you all think it doesn't bother me, but it does. I'd love for Democrats to love me. I'd love to be the great compromiser again. Sometimes--screw you, I'm not crying, I just have a frog in my throat--sometimes, I just wish we all got along. Why does it gotta be this way? I know that the base is the base, I know that. I know that. I just want to be popular, like I was after 9/11. Boy, was I good or what? Everybody was together, the New York Times was praising me, everyone was saying how good a leader I was for not marching to war...I miss those days so much.
Okay, I'm better now. And that was off the record, by the way.
So, two more things...two more...hmm. Nothing's really coming to mind. How about we go through the rest of my day. So after my daily meeting with Bob, I take my daily nap. Sometimes I do it before Bob leaves. You would not believe how pissed he gets at that. I remember one time I had dozed off and he banged his hand on the desk and shouted, angrily, "Mr. President, THERE ARE HUMAN LIVES AT STAKE HERE! AMERICAN LIVES!" You have to be able to react fast to shi--er, stuff--like that. So I jumped up, grabbed him by the lapels, and yelled back, "I DO, BOB! I THINK ABOUT THEM EVERY DAY!." That really surprised him, and he backed down. I think he felt kind of bad. Hey, wait, wasn't that a good tip? React quickly? Put that down. Whew! Now I've only got one more to go. So, after Bob leaves, and after my nap is over (we're talking about 5:30), I head down for dinner. This is usually with some well-known celebrity or someone like the Girl Scout that sold the most cookies. I remember when that she was down here I made sure to get a whole bunch of money from Jeff, the head of my Secret Service detail, and I went down a little before dinner to buy some of those peanut butter cookies. She didn't have any on her. I joked that she must have cheated to win the contest if she couldn't even sell me a cookie. I was just joking, and she totally started crying. Even my little "crazy guy" dance didn't work. Actually, that made things much worse. I had to exempt her parents from the income tax this year to make up for it. That's okay, because [Office of Management and Budget Director Rob] Portman says we can audit them and find some loophole to double their payroll tax or something. I dunno. I don't know much about economics.
So, dah dah dah, eat dinner, blah blah blah...oh, yeah, after dinner, Laura and I talk for a while. I love it when we talk about T.V. and stuff like that. It seems like she's getting more and more, well, political these days. She used to ask me to fire Rummy all the time, and one time I said, "Sweetie, I love you, I really do. You're amazing. But since I used to run companies and you used to run libraries, you probably don't understand how firing people works. You can't just fire somebody for no reason. You have to prove that they're incompetent." I could tell by her silence after saying this that I had made her feel stupid, so I offered to tickle her feet right afterward to make her feel better. She just stomped off. I'll never understand women.
Anyway, after that, I put on my P.J.'s, hop into bed, and get some rest. Hey, HEY, there's number six: always get enough sleep. Whoo hoo! I got six of 'em! That was fun. All this talkin' 's got me tired. It's a good thing I've got a big meeting with Bob coming up!
