“Good job with your first press conference,” President Bush told Tony Snow.
“Thanks. I found the best way to handle Helen Thomas was to spray her in the face with a water bottle every time she tried to speak. I figure if I keep it up, she’ll learn not to talk at all.”
“Maybe, but Ari Fleischer tried the same thing, but instead of spraying her with a water bottle, he clunked her on the head with a tire iron– and that still never took. There was one thing about your press conference I didn’t like, though, and I think that was violating our first rule.” Bush pointed to a sign on the wall.
Tony read the sign aloud. “‘No matter what, never admit it’s amnesty.'”
Bush looked at the sign. “Oh, I guess we changed the first rule. Anyway, it used to be ‘There is no crying in this administration.’ I don’t care if you barely survived cancer, Snowman; I barely survived a pretzel, and I didn’t cry… even though I really really wanted to. Anyway, it’s time to appease the base.” Bush walked over to a map of the world and whapped Mexico with a pointer. “I think the only way now is to invade Mexico.”
“Invade Mexico? Well, I guess that will be easy with troops at the border.”
“No, they’ll expect that.” Bush pointed to Guatemala. “We’ll invade from here and they’ll never see it coming.” He thought for a moment. “So now I need a plan to invade Guatemala.”
Condi stormed into the room and yanked away Bush’s pointer. “Wars are for popular Presidents. You finish the ones you have and just work on border security.”
“Ahh… border security is boring,” Bush moaned. “Well, I guess I’ll head to the border and work on the problem.” He turned to Tony. “You tell everyone I’m doing a lot about illegal immigration and not to say bad things about me because the NSA will know… but don’t admit we have an NSA spying program. Actually, deny we have an NSA.”
“Uh… I’ll come up with something to say.”
“Yes, you say–” Bush marched off. “–I do.”

Attorney General Alberto Gonzales stood by the border wearing his Sombrero of Authority and matching poncho. Next to him was some high-tech gadgetry. Bush walked over to him. “What do we have here?”
“A virtual fence,” Alberto said and handed goggles to Bush while taking a pair for himself. They both put them on, and Bush then saw in front of him a giant wall of pure concrete.
“Wow! When you wear these, it appears that we actually care about border security!” Bush exclaimed.
“All we have to do is get everyone to wear these and it’s like we really have a fence,” Alberto said. “We would also need to get Mexicans to wear these if we don’t want them all running over here while we’re admiring our virtual fence. But, if they do come in…” In the virtual world, Alberto pointed up at some butterflies flying over the fence. “–it won’t look so bad. See, those butterflies are virtual representation of illegal immigrants crossing our borders.”
“Wow! They’re almost blocking out the sky!” Bush looked down and saw a newspaper on the ground. He picked it up and read it. “Cool! In this world, my approval rating is almost 40%!”
The good news disappeared as Alberto pulled off Bush’s goggles. “I have something else to show you. If the virtual fence doesn’t work, I hired a consultant for another option.”
Standing near them was a tall, old, bearded man wearing a robe and holding a staff. “I am Gandalf the Gray,” he said, “and I shall make you a magical fence.”
“Yay!” Bush squealed. “I love magic.”
Gandalf faced some Mexicans nearing the border. Gandalf then yelled, “You cannot pass! I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the Flame of Anor! The Dark Flame will not avail you, Flame of Udun. Go back to the shadow!” Gandalf struck the ground with his staff. “You– shall– not– pass!”
A rock struck Gandalf in the head, knocking him to the ground. The Mexicans then all ran over him.
“That could have gone better,” Bush said. “Well, I guess this problem cannot be solved. Anyhoo, I’m hungry for some Mexican food. How about you, Speedy?”
“If you’re paying,” Alberto answered.
As they walked off, a thought struck Bush. “What if we made a real fence?”
Alberto slapped Bush across the back of his head. “That would lower property values, you stupid gringo!”