President Bush, you are my only friend.

President Bush, you are my only friend.
I never get tired of listening to you.
How humble you are, and charming.
Just now, I watched you greet all of Saudi Arabia in fifty seconds.
I remember the tears you shed in your oval office after 9/11 – we all saw them.
We were with you then, and we’re still with you now.
Sometimes I am unhappy with you, but then when I look into your laughing eyes I can’t help but to chuckle alongside you.
And join you for the ride. All those nameless Secret Service agents fluttering around more, cleverly disguised, Secret Service agents. Sometimes I think, even I may be a Secret Secret Service agent, somehow working for you.
You have my allegiance, Mr. President.

But you have so many problems. The road you are traveling down is putting more and more people in Blank. I don’t agree with being your only friend.
I want to live a life beyond serving you and laughing at your brand of slap-stick comedy. I want to walk away from you and make other friends. Not Ahmadinejad, I know. How about Pierre Trudeau and Winston Churchill and Caesar and Alexander the Great? At least they don’t ask so much of me.

But mother is coming home, and I must say goodbye. Until next time, Texas.

False alarm.

Everything’s under control. Everybody relax. Just RELAX okay!

My nerves are totally shot. “Any second” and the apocalypse mixed with a healthy dose of shock and awe have turned me into a drunk boxer, drooping between punches. So I turn to your smiling face, W. You’re in my corner, I know you are – along with the NYFD and the rubble of Ground Zero. You’re bullhorn made the rubble shake that day – we all heard you! Indeed, we were all there.

But mother is coming soon so I should wrap this up I guess. Keep smiling, George Bush.