“Frankly, Mr. President, I don’t think there could be a bigger waste of time than analyzing the Democrats’ response to your State of the Union Address,” Cheney stated.
“But I know they’re up to something!” Bush declared, “There must be some dark purpose behind this seemingly inept and incompetent speech.” Bush watched the screen. “Reid is gay, right?”
“I’m going to go do some real work,” Cheney said as he left the office, “You consider accepting that the Democrats really are just incompetent idiots.”
Bush turned off the T.V. as Alberto Gonzales entered the office. “Good job not getting filibustered, amigo,” Bush told him, “And now that you’re Attorney General, I want to give you this sombrero of authority.”
“I’m not wearing some stupid sombrero!” Alberto yelled.
“But it goes with your poncho!” Bush protested.
Alberto snatched the sombrero and put it on. “Fine.”
A little Scotty dog pup ran into the room and yelled. “Yip! Yip!”
“What the hell is this poor excuse for a Chihuahua?” Alberto demanded.
“That’s my new Scotty pup, Miss Beazley.”
With a sharp kick, Alberto sent the dog flying out the door of the Oval Office. “Sorry,” he said, “but when I see a puppy, I just have to kick it.”
“And those were exactly the sort of qualities I was looking for in an Attorney General,” Bush smiled, “Now get to work.”
As Alberto left the office, White House Press Secretary Scott McClellan entered. “I need to talk to you about how to field questions about your Social Security plan,” he said.
“Simple,” Bush stated as he walked over to Scott and handed him an object. “Take this brick. If some reporter calls my plan a scheme or seems to demean my ideas, you smash him in the face with the brick. Don’t make the mistake I did and throw it, though, because then you lose the brick and can’t bash anyone else with it.”
“I dunno…”
“Just get to it, tubby!” Bush yelled as he kicked Scott out of his office.
Condoleezza Rice then entered. “Did you want to see me?” she asked impatiently.
“Yes,” Bush said sternly, “I heard you met with Saudi ambassador and broke his nose!”
She shrugged. “So?”
“Where’s the video?” Bush demanded, “That sounds funny!”
“I don’t like having video evidence of my actions,” Condi said coldly.
“But it would great for the holiday blooper reel!” Bush pleaded.
“Anything else?” Condi asked, “What are we doing about the findings on the oil for food scandal?”
“I’m having my favorite U.N. peacekeeper look into that,” Bush snickered.
Condi rolled her eyes. “You didn’t put a blue helmet on that rottweiler Chomps and send him to the U.N. headquarters to maul everyone, did you? Frankly, I’m getting tired of that antic.”
“And I never tire of the humor of maulings,” Bush answered.
“One of these days, they’re going to wise up and realize that a dog with a blue helmet on isn’t a real peacekeeper.”
“And that will be a sad day.”
Condi headed from the office. “I’ve got more ‘diplomacy’ to do.”
Senator Joe Lieberman came in next. “You said you wanted to see me.”
“Yes, I just wanted to thank you for your continued support and playing the party line,” Bush said.
Lieberman looked confused. “Excuse me?”
“I just wanted to personally talk with all the Republicans in the Senate and make sure we’re united for the same cause against the Democrats who will be blocking our agenda.”
“But I’m a Democrat.”
Bush furrowed his brow. “Are you sure?”
“I am. I even was on the ticket that ran against you in 2000.”
“Really?” Bush said incredulously, “But you even voted for my torturing Mexican.”
“I thought he just made honest legal opinions.”

“Attorney General, we have a man in custody we suspect of being Arab and maybe even Muslim. We were wondering if connecting his genitals to a car battery would be considered torture.”
“In my opinion…” Alberto said as he thought for a moment, “I don’t give a rat’s ass.”
“Are you sure?”
“Hey! Who’s wearing the sombrero?” Alberto shouted angrily, “You don’t question me!” Alberto slumped in his chair and put his sombrero over his face. “Now don’t bother me for the next couple hours; it’s siesta.”

“Well, if you’re convinced you’re a Democrat, I don’t feel like arguing with you,” Bush said, “I bid you adieu.”
As Lieberman left, Laura Bush walked in. “Have you seen Miss Beazley?”
“She went flying in that direction,” Bush answered pointing towards the door.
Laura set a folder on the desk. “Anyway, I corrected the spelling and grammar in these war plans for you.”
Bush snatched them up. “Those are classified!”
“Then you shouldn’t have left them on the coffee table. When I found them, Barney was ripping out the pages.”
“Barney has ruined more war plans than any other small size dog,” Bush griped.
“So how is your day going?” Laura asked.
“Well, next in my schedule is more samurai sword practice in case of another ninja attack. Then I was going to meet with Rumsfeld, but I think he’s busy with the press answering questions about the times he tried to resign.”
“Those were the resignation letters written in his blood, right?”
“I’m pretty sure it was someone else’s blood. Couldn’t accept them, though. If Rumsfeld were let go, he’d go on a rampage. At least while he’s in my cabinet, we can keep an eye on him.”

“So what exactly led you to offer letters of resignation?” a reporter asked.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Rumsfeld snapped back, “Do you have some other namby-pamby questions?”
“I won’t stop until I get the truth!” the reported declared.
“Rarr!” Rumsfeld yelled as he picked up the reporter and threw him out a window. Rumsfeld then punched the wall behind him, ripped out a pipe, and held it over his head ready to strike as water sprayed everywhere. “Rarr!”
“Run away!” the other reporters yelled as they scrambled over each other to get out of the press room.
Rumsfeld turned to see Chomps angrily lapping up the water that was spraying out of the hole in the wall. Rumsfeld dropped his pipe and patted Chomps on the head. “If I had resigned, I’d be able to spend all my time killing fools like them. Well, I guess I have to leave something for retirement.”