Senator Hagel stared straight into the camera. “I want the American people to know that the President has made a disaster in Iraq, and thus I oppose the surge.”
“Now, Senator Hagel,” Chris Wallace, “what do you say to… uh… could you face me please?”
Hagel grudgingly turned from the camera to look at Wallace.
“What do you say to your critics who say since the build up to war in Iraq and until now you’ve been nothing but a media whore and a douche?”
Hagel turned back to the camera. “When someone has the courage to say what needs to be said, he will inevitably come under attack.” He looked back to Wallace. “Can you set it up so I can see myself on TV as I talk?”
President Bush turned off the TV. “I don’t think I like Chuck Hagel. How much do you think it would cost to fire him into the sun?”
“The lowest bid I got was five billion dollars,” Condoleezza Rice said.
Bush thought about that. “That’s a lot of money.”
Condi shrugged. “The more time goes by, the less it seems.”
“Eh, I guess firing him into the sun is a bad idea,” Bush said. “We need to worry about getting back the majority in the Senate, plus a big space launch will only give him the media attention he so craves. Maybe since he likes to get his face on TV, an ironic punishment would be to burn his face off with acid.”
“Acid is cheaper,” Condi said, “but you always end up inhaling the fumes and waking up in a hospital bed.”
“Yeah, I’m no good with acid. How about we have Rumsfeld’s angry dog attack him. Media whore’s make him angry. Very angry.”
“Rumsfeld resigned, remember? You now have Robert Gates has your Secretary of Defense.”
“Oh. Does he have an angry dog?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
“How about some sort of agitated cat, then?”
Condi shook her head.
“Well, I’ll just have to think of some appropriate ironic way to get back at that annoying media whore.” Bush put on his thinking cowboy hat. “You’ll have to leave me alone with my thoughts, Condi. By the way, did I ever tell you how clean you are?”
“I’m leaving now.”

“Things are complicated, Tim,” Hagel said.
“You’ve been saying they are complicated since before the war,” Tim Russert responded. “Are things now even more complicatedier?”
“Well… that’s complicated.”
A wrecking ball smashed through the set, hitting Hagel and sending him barreling into a camera. In through the new hole walked President Bush. “Ha!” he shouted as he pointed at Hagel.
“Did you just hit Senator Hagel with a wrecking ball?” Russert asked in disbelief.
“I sure did!” Bush said proudly. “It was an ironic punishment for him being such a media whore.”
“How was that ironic.”
Bush shrugged. “Uh… because he never like getting hit with a wrecking ball.”
“You don’t know what irony means, do you?”
“Hey, I’m not stupid!” Bush shouted. “I obviously know how to work a wrecking ball as I only smashed three other buildings before I hit this one proper.” Bush looked to Hagel. “You think he’s dead?”
“Wrecking balls can have that effect,” Russert said.
Bush looked to Hagel again. “I wonder if I should do something.” He thought for a moment. “I think I’ll go get lunch.”