Dear President Bush, Hey - what is happening? People are all talking about Iraq and all. Did you read my last journal entry? Maybe you should because my wife had a really good point about you telling the US people that you can't really reveal why we should attack Iraq, but just to take your word for it. I can't believe your script writing monkey didn't suggest that - maybe it's time for a new one.
Oh, hey. I didn't vote for you. I am not even registered in this state. The state I am registered in probably wants me to come in for jury duty or something. There may be a warrant out for my arrest for all I know. My brother is wanted in some state I think. I forget which one, but hopefully not the one that he recently moved to. It was for a speeding ticket of some sort. He speeds and punches people (who deserve it), but I suspect you know that because I see the White House IP address on my server logs all the time.
Hey, maybe you should talk to him. He may be able to shed some light on how to deal aggressive jerks - or then again, maybe in this situation YOU are the aggressive jerk (didja think about that) and he will pop you in the jaw. Now, you must tell the secret service not to arrest him or shoot him when that happens - you would have invited him in and you were well warned.
I doubt he would even punch you though, unless you were calling him names or groping his new bride.
Oh get this shit, my brother was my best man when I got married. He really didn't do anything as best man except take his new girlfriend to the hotel bar and make out and get plastered while we were trying to find him for the official reception toast. He shows up covered in lipstick and wobbly - I think his toast was funny, but I don't recall much of it. OK, let's rewind a bit. Here we are the day before the wedding. Me and Ms. Robot and our NYC pal Joanna are hanging out on the side porch of my parent's palatial estate. A police car drives by. That is weird because on our street, very few cars ever come back, especially not a friggin pole-lease car. He goes up the block, turns around and drives slowly by again. He turns around, and slowly comes up and parks in front of the house.
My brother is home, and I immediately think, "oh crap".
I hear my parents in the other room - my mom whispering, "honey, there is a police man coming up the driveway".
My father (a bit of back story here) has worked with the police department on projects and things. He's all involved in the city, so he knows all the cops, which could be very good or very bad when you are his son. Depends on the situation I guess.
He walks out to greet him, and the cop asks for my brother. We are trade worried glances and I imagine getting married with my brother in shackles beside me.
My brother, upstairs, is of course keen on what is going on, and is rapidly going through all the reasons this cop could be here. He decides not to bail out the window and run for the hills.
My father comes in and asks for my brother to come downstairs. My mom gasps and says something worrisome.
Brother and the cop stand outside and talk for a minute, and then that's all. Cop is leaving. Brother comes in, and get this: the cop came by to tell my brother to rip up a speeding ticket he had gotten that morning. It seems that Brother had been speeding through a school zone, but the cop didn't realize that school wasn't in session that day. How about that?
Puts a little faith in how things work. You should send this to Cheney - I bet he would like that story. I don't know him, but I bet he's a bit of a lead foot.
Hey, I gotta go. In terms of Iraq, maybe ask WWMJD?
