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Although since reformed from this method of getting
what I want from a girl I couldn’t help but marvel
at the President’s seduction last year. From the
moment he conceived of what he wanted, namely to let
him have a guys night out in Baghdad, he was the quintessential
seducer.
His girl wasn’t convinced at first. She didn’t
quite like his friends. Boy, have I been there. I’ve
had to explain away my own Dick Cheney and Don Rumsfeld’s.
She didn’t want him to be gone so long. And the
money! How exactly did he think he was going to pay
for him and his friends to go on their little trip?
And why exactly can’t he just stay home like the
French, Germans, Russians and Chinese? If it’s
such a great trip why don’t they want to go?
The President had all the right answers, as any natural
seducer seems to; ‘Cheney and Rumsfeld aren’t
that bad, besides Powell will be their. How much trouble
can we get in with ol’ Colin around?’ ‘We
won’t be gone long,’‘it won’t
cost us anything once all that oil starts flowing.’
And the French and Germans? ‘Huh! Hasn’t
she heard? They’re not cool anymore. Everyone’s
says so. Besides Micronesia is coming! Doesn’t
she know how cool the Micronesians are?’
It made me think of one icy college afternoon when
I told my girlfriend (I’ll call her Amanda) that
I was going on spring break. I told Amanda that I needed
to go because I’d never been out of the country
before. How could I graduate college without seeing
some of the world? I protested vigorously when she suggested
that Cancun, Mexico wasn’t exactly ‘seeing
some of the world,’ unless by world I meant seeing
other girls besides her naked. I took her in my arms
and told her she could trust me.
Bush’s girl was just as stubborn. So he slipped
his arm around her and got her drunk with images of
mushroom clouds and unmanned planes delivering small
pox to her cities. Back in the 50’s guys used
to use tell girls they’d die without her, ahem,
cooperation. It seems the prospect of death is especially
effective in getting girls to do what you want.
It turned out one of Amanda’s friends was in
Cancun with me. One girl. Damn. Imagine David Kay with
those silly looking cornrows some girls get when they
go to the tropics and you’ll know what I was up
against. And so my girlfriend found out the truth, my
idea of seeing some of the world back then actually
was about seeing other girls besides her naked.
So like I said, I can empathize with what President
Bush is going through now. David Kay whispered in his
girl’s ear about how those unmanned planes weren’t
ever coming to drop small pox on her. What about that
mushroom cloud? No Chance. By the way he’ll be
gone longer than he said, a lot longer. He also needs
to borrow some money. Can she spare two hundred billion?
And he’s not so sure those Micronesians are as
cool as he thought they were. The French at least had
some money with them when they went on these trips.
I tried talking to Amanda after her friend was done
with exposing me. I had all kinds of excuses back then.
How she should trust me rather than those spies of hers.
They never liked me anyway. Remembering myself in those
conversations isn’t an attractive thought. So
when I now see the President talking with that smirk
on his face, telling his girl that she really can trust
him. I squirm a little for him, for the smirk.
I had that smirk to, confident that I could talk her
back into my arms. I had that smirk right until she
dumped me a few weeks after I got back from Mexico.
Things just weren’t the same. Every night out
with the guys was assumed to be about finding girls
to get naked with. And going out to watch the game obviously
meant a search for other naked girls. Amanda couldn’t
trust me anymore, which was about what I deserved.
I watch Bush tell his girl about how he can handle
his deficit, how the jobs boom is right around the corner.
I can almost see her brow furrow, deciding whether she
can trust that smirk or not. My trip had cost me my
girl. I wait to see if President Bush’s costs
him his.
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