[NYTr] Dowd: Tears on My Pillow - Bush Misses Albania
 
Date: Sun, 1 Jul 2007 16:10:31 -0500 (CDT)

Via NY Transfer News Collective  *  All the News that Doesn't Fit
 
[One of Maureen's better efforts. The first one to make fun of
Georgie's Albanian love-fest, of course, was Fidel Castro.-NY Transfer]

The New York Times - Jul 1, 2007
http://select.nytimes.com/2007/07/01/opinion/01dowd.html

Tears on My Pillow

By MAUREEN DOWD

bI miss Albania!b W. wails. bThey know how to treat a president there.
Women were kissing me and men rubbed my hair. The crowd kept yelling,
bBushie!,b and they almost grabbed the watch right off my wrist trying
to get at me.b

The concerned group huddling outside the presidentbs closed-bedroom
door in Kennebunkport can barely hear him. His voice is muffled because
he has his face buried in his feather pillow, which the Secret Service
has carefully transported from Washington to Maine for the weekend,
knowing that it would be needed. They guard it so conscientiously that
they have even given it a code name. Since the presidentbs Secret
Service name is Tumbler, his agents christened his beloved pillow
Slumber.

bSon, I know how you feel,b Poppy calls in to him, trying to sound
positive. bRiding high in 2002, shot down in 2007. Thatbs life, as
Sinatra says. You were a puppet and a pawn to King Dick and it screwed
up your presidency and our party and the Middle East and the Atlantic
alliance and the family legacy and Jebbs future, not to mention the
fate of the planet. But you canbt just roll yourself up in a big ball
and die, George. Your friend Vlad the Impaler is here, and I think you
should come out and talk to him. You invited him and he came all the
way from Russia, and you donbt want to be rude.

bIbve already taken him to Mabelbs Lobster Claw and out on the boat. He
scared all the fish away. I donbt know what else to do with him,
George. He brained the Filipino manservant, the little brown one, with
a horseshoe.b

Putin steps forward. bLet me try,b he tells Poppy.

bGeorge, hey, itbs me, Ostrich Legs, Pooty Poot. Remember when you gave
me those nicknames? Come out, and I show you my real soul. Dark, dark,
dark. I put the Putin back in Rasputin. Listen, Albania stinks. Maine
much nicer. I saw Moose and Squirrel in the woods. Letbs throw
horseshoes at them! I love this American sport.b

Tumbler burrows into Slumber. bWhy doesnbt anybody like me anymore,
Daddy?b he keens. bMan, I miss Tony. My Iraq poodle left me with a
porcupine. And I canbt believe my own Republicans crossed me on the
immigration bill. Now my Mexican buddies from Midland are saying,
bAdiC3s, Jorge.b Vice doesnbt even want to be in the same branch of
government as me. Where is Dick, by the way?b

His mother steps briskly up to the door. bNow listen, Georgie,b Barbara
says. bWe didnbt invite Dick. Hebs not our kind. He has utterly ruined
your presidency. Therebs a Washington Post series I want you to read.
Ibve put it in the kitchen by your bowl of Cookie Crisps. It explains
all about how Dick played you for a fool on everything from Iraq to
capital gains. He set up the West Wing paper flow in a way that
undermined your goals and advanced his. He let you act like you were
the Decider, dear, when you were really just the Dupe.b

W. howls, bDick promised me I would never be a wimp and now Ibm a wimp!b

Putin intervenes. bNo, George, donbt blame Dick,b he says. bDick good
man. Shoots friend in face. But Dick too soft. Friend lived. He needs
put more people in your Gitmo gulag, shut down newspapers, kill more
critics. Ibll send you some of my special polonium-210 pellets. They
just like Altoids, curiously strong.b

Clarence Thomas rushes up to the door, black robes flapping. bI got
here as fast as I could,b he assures Poppy, before yelling in to W.:
bIbm sorry about the GuantC!namo decision. I donbt know what my brethren
were thinking, applying the Constitution to Cuba. Whatbs law got to do
with it? I should have fought harder. I was a little distracted by our
decision to stop race from being a factor in making schools racially
diverse. I needed to make sure that black children all over America
would have none of the advantages I had.b

Henry Kissinger oils his way across the floor. bMr. President,b he
rumbles through the door, bitbs not so bad bungling a war. I got to
date Jill St. John.b

Condi joins the group, and wrinkles her nose at Putin. He puts his arm
around her and gives her head a noogie. bWhen I said U.S. aggression is
like Third Reich,b he tells her, with his most charming K.G.B. smile,
bI meant it in a good way.b

Condi ignores him and coos to W.: bTherebs bad news and good news, sir.
Or maybe itbs Vice versa. Cheneybs going to pardon Scooter. And the
Albanians have agreed to put your presidential library in Tirana.b

Copyright 2007 The New York Times Company
       
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