Editorial

"Mr. President, this job can't be fun for you any more. There's no
more money to spend--you used up all of that. You can't start
another war because you also used up the army. And now, darn the
luck, the rest of your term has become the Bush family nightmare:
helping poor people. Listen to your Mom. The cupboard's bare, the
credit cards maxed out, and no one's speaking to you. Mission accomplished.

"Now it's time to do what you've always done best: lose interest and
walk away. Like you did with your military service and the oil
company, and the baseball team. It's time. Time to move on and try
the next fantasy job. How about cowboy, or space man? Now I know
what you're saying: you're saying that there's so many other things
that you as President could involve yourself in. Please don't. I
know, I know. There's a lot left to do. There's a war with
Venezuela. And eliminating the sales tax on yachts. Turning the
space program over to the church. And Social Security to Fannie Mae.
Giving embryos the vote.

"But, Sir, none of that is going to happen now. Why? Because you
govern like Billy Joel drives. You've performed so poorly I'm
surprised that you haven't given *yourself* a medal. You're a
catastrophe that walks like a man. Herbert Hoover was a shitty
president, but even he never conceded an entire metropolis to rising
water and snakes.

"On your watch, we've lost almost all of our allies, the surplus,
four airliners, two trade centers, a piece of the Pentagon and the City
of New Orleans. Maybe you're just not lucky. I'm not saying you
don't love this country. I'm just wondering how much worse it could
be if you were on the other side.

"So, yes, God does speak to you. And what he's saying is: 'Take a hint