“Liberals everywhere are having to come to grips with the fact that Iraq may not be a complete disaster,” the anchorman announced, “We now go to one of the war’s dissenters, humanities Professor John Glickman.”
The professor was clutching his head and pounding it against his desk. “Brain hurt! Bush bad! But no disaster in Middle East! Can’t… comprehend… Bush wrong! Right is wrong! Black is white!” He then screamed and jumped through his window.
Condoleezza Rice turned off the T.V. “Reality is descending upon the liberals. Some learn to embrace. Some kill themselves rather than have to face it. Other burrow further into the dark recesses of delusion to conceal themselves from it.”
“Is this that ‘reality-based’ community I keep hearing about?” President Bush asked.
“Yes,” Condi answered, “based on reality, but not quite of it. They do not operate in the same realm of thought that normal humans do. You see, current events have been like an antibiotic to the bacteria that are liberals. While most are killed out, those remaining are the most virulent – or, in the case of liberals – more delusional.”
“That’s a great point,” Bush said frankly, “Rover, what’s your take.”
The hooded-figure of Karl Rove emerged from the shadows. “The Book of Punditry says that a wind from the East would decimate the enemy. If democracy hits the land of the black riches while the pachyderm holds the throne, then the ass shall be kicked from power forever.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Bush said.
“You’re not understanding anything either of us are saying, are you?” Condi asked.
“No, but, as long as our plans are working, who cares?” Bush said smugly, “Middle East knows what’s what, now, and everything is falling into place!”
“Anyway, I would like permission to capture and study one of these uber-liberals,” Condi stated, “They could be a danger, but we won’t know until we imprison one.”
“Will this involve intrusive and painful measures to the liberal?” Bush asked.
“Most certainly.”
“Sounds good to me, but I better consult with the Attorney General. Hey, Alberto, what’s your opinion on capturing a U.S. citizen without any cause, holding him indefinitely, and torturing him?”
“I don’t give a flying @#$%,” Alberto Gonzales answered, “and I don’t see why anyone else would.”
“Sage advice as always,” Bush said, “Well, Condi, you have a go. On to other matters.” He turned to the Vice President. “Any luck on finding Osama?”
Cheney shrugged his shoulders. “He wasn’t by the coffee pot.”
Bush looked to Rumsfeld. “And how’s the exit strategy on Iraq?”
“There are still some Iraqis left alive, but we’ll take care of them,” Rumsfeld vowed.
“We’re not supposed to kill them, Rummy,” Bush said, “We’re supposed to help them build a prosperous democracy.”
“What!” Rumsfeld yelled, “You keep changing the plan on me! Rarr!”
“Hey, the situation is fluid,” Bush said as he ducked under the table, “Well, on to the domestic agenda, we need to get our Social Security reform passed. I forget, though; what narrow special interest does this serve?”
“I think it’s stock brokers,” Cheney responded.
“Might be the wealthy in general once more,” Condi commented.
“I’m sure Halliburton wants it,” Cheney added, “and that’s all that’s important.”
“So how are we going to stop the Democrats from… uh… stopping us?” Bush inquired.
“We have the most evil nine-year-old in existence campaigning for us,” Rove intoned.
“And, best of all,” Cheney added, “he’s working solely for Yu-Gi-Oh cards.”
“What in God’s name are those?” Bush asked.
“No adult knows,” Cheney answered.
Little Noah McCullough stepped forward. “I love studying about presidents, and I want to make sure there is Social Security when I retire, golly gosh!”
“He’s cute! Seniors love cute kids!” Bush exclaimed, “The Democrats will have no rebuttal to this!”
“They’ve tried teaching their talking points to kittens to counter us,” Rove said, “and have executed eight so far for failure.”
“Anything else to worry about the Democrats?” Bush inquired.
“They’re threatening to filibuster more judicial nominees,” Cheney answered.
“Someone should send them a box full of Viagra for their impotency.” Bush laughed. “Don’t actually do that, though; that stuff is expensive.”
The group sat around silently for a while.
“Okay, I’m bored,” Bush stated, “Let’s issue another terror alert.”

“We were informed that the terror alert had been raised to orange since the terrorists had stolen the ‘rock’ from ‘rock & roll’ leaving us with just ‘roll’ which hardly is useful by itself. I called a number of music stations, and, while some did not have ‘roll,’ all had ‘rock’ at least and did not know of any terrorist attacks. How do you explain this?”
White House Press Secretary Scott McClellan looked at his talking points. All it said was “I’m not fat; I’m big-boned.” Scott looked to the press and shrugged his shoulders. “The President is an ass?”