Dinner with W

While I'm on special super duper secret assignment,

Here is an oldie but goodie.

It was not unlike any other knock on the door.

Perhaps a little harder, and perhaps a little more deliberate.

The old Mexican hand knocker from San Miguel can make itself known

when the right physics are applied to my 80 year old rounded door

that looks like it might be useful in another Lord of the Rings episode.

I opened the door in my black boxer shorts and black T shirt.

"Mr. OZ", said the rather tall man with the cell phone in his ear.

"Yes", I said.

"You are wanted", he said.

"For What?"

"For Dinner."

Did I forget to put a dinner party on my outlook, I thought to myself.

With Who?, I asked.

"The President of the United States."

Truthfully, I was incredulous.

It has been more than 7 years since we had been together.

When I last served under W, he was the leader of the 9th largest economy

in the World.

He didn't listen to me then, in fact, he replaced me after my first term

with a tall white woman with a straight nose and beady eyes

from everyone's favorite corporation,

Enron.

The ride to the White House was uneventful.

Airforce One could actually do with a little interior design help though.

We ate in the Oval Office so we could focus on our work.

"OZ," the president said, "Why do you write that way you do about me?"

"Shall I be frank Mr. President?"

"Absolutely".

"Well, let me try to lay it out carefully and thoughtfully.

When you came into office, you had a big surplus right?"

"Right."

"Then you gave the people who gave you money a lot of money back."

"Right."

"And now, the children and the unborn will have to pay those taxes."

"Why?"

"Because we are running deficits that will ultimately have to be balanced."

"Go On."

"And, you got us into a War that has cost 300 billion dollars and counting,

and you are not winning it."

"We're not?"

"No, we are losing it.

Now, you know and I know that some think

we need to control the oil in the Mideast

because the world is fast approaching a time when production peaks.

Everyone else knows that now too. They call it Peak Oil."

"They do?"

"Yes, and almost everyone also knows that even if we get that oil,

we can't burn it."

"Why?"

"Because if we don't get a handle on Climate Change,

it's going to be all over except for the surf boarding."

This got his attention. "So why are we fighting for it?"

"Because Turd Blossom and Dick Shit think its the right thing to do."

"Why?"

"Because they aren't that smart."

"They're not?"

"Remember when Turd Blossom put that bug in his own office

right before the debate with White?"

"Yeah, that was cool."

"Remember how the FBI came in and said that it didn't make sense."

"It didn't?"

"No, because the battery was full."

"Turd Blossom didn't think to put a half run down battery into his bug."

"I forgot about that."

"Not smart, lucky to not get in big trouble actually."

"Yes, your right, Dad helped on that.

He said the same thing actually."

"What?"

"Not Smart, that's why he fired him during his run."

"So, here we are killing lots of innocent people, losing soldiers,

and at the same time, we're filling the pockets of the people

we ought to be choking dry."

"I never thought of it that way."

"And if we just say screw it, you can have your damn oil,

you can sell it to China, or to the moon for all we care,

because we are going to bust your chops and totally go modern.

We're going to make everything work on the light that surrounds it.

We're going to totally recreate the way we transport ourselves,

We're going to use our technological superiority to make advanced

weapons of peace,

that are more powerful and a lot more effective than our weapons of war.

In the meantime,

we suck the issues and the money out of the fundamentalist,

we avoid a conflict with China and the rest of the world over oil,

we put a serious dent in the emissions that create climate change,

we put a lot of people to work doing really cool things,

we make the US the hero of the nations and the earth.

and you get your pointy pooch put on Mt Rushmore."

"I do?"

"Yeah. You do."

The ride home was uneventful.

I tried to figure out how I could explain this to my cats.

I decided I wouldn't even try.

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