Friday, May 26, 2006

George Bush May Lose His Daughter’s Approval

A light Spring rain was falling outside the window behind the oak desk in the Oval Office. George W. Bush was sitting back in the thickly padded dark brown leather chair, his black loafers on the credenza, ankles crossed. His hands were casually clasped resting in his lap as he watched the early morning clouds. The rain drops made trails on the window glass. Bush glanced at his rubberized digital watch. It was 6:32 AM. Bush had yet to put on the red tie that was on the desk behind him. Bush's white shirt was open four buttons down exposing a white t-shirt. He sported a black blazer that was open and ruffled because of the position he was in. He counted the rain trails on the window glass. Seven trails.

"You are down to seven," said Karl Rove who stood fully dressed in a dark grey business suit with his standard red and yellow striped tie.

"Seven rain drop trails flowing down my window," said George W. Bush as he stared out the window.

"Excuse me," said Rove.

"The rain. I like a light Spring rain. It cleans things up," said Bush.

"George, you are down to a seven approval rating," said Rove.

"What does that really mean? Let"s consider that. Seven percent of what? There are 300 million Americans. Seven percent of that is what? Is that like twenty-one million. That's more people than watch American Idol, right?" asked Bush.

"I wouldn't know," said Rove.

"Twenty-one million is a lot of people, Karl," said Bush.

"Yes, George, but I did not say you had a seven percent approval rating. I said you had a seven approval rating," said Rove.

"Yeah. Seven approval rating, whatever is that?" asked Bush.

"That means there are seven people who approve of you," said Rove.

Bush removes his legs from the credenza and turns in his chair to face Rove. "Seven people. How the hell do you figure that?" asked Bush.

"We polled everybody. We can do that now with the Patriot Act. It's not a typical poll, but we can find out what everybody thinks," said Rove.

"Everybody? That's absurd. So you know who the seven people are?" asked Bush.

"Yes. Laura is one. Your dad and mom are two more. Your two daughters make five. Jeb is six. I'm seven," said Rove.

"What about that woman in Houston last week, the one on the street who told me how much she loved me? She said it right there with the cameras going. It was even on the news," said Bush.

"She hates you. She is angry about Iraq. She is angry about gas prices. She is just plain angry about everything. She said she loved you to be polite," said Rove.

"You didn't count me. You didn't count me. I make eight," said Bush.

"Yes. Sorry. You would make eight. You have an eight approval rating," said Rove.

Bush picks up the red tie on the desk and drapes it around his neck.

"I should point out that your daughter Jenna is not a solid approval lock. She is wavering. You might go back down to seven," said Rove.

"Get out. Jenna? She loves me," said Bush.

"She loves you as a father, I would imagine. We are talking about your presidency.

"Jenna. She was always a pain in the ass," said Bush.

"We need to do something. We need to get drastic," said Rove.

"Oh, now, Karl. There is no reason to panic. Hey, things can't get worse, right. I got work to do, that's all. Stop the panic stuff. It makes me anxious. I don't. I don't want to be anxious," said Bush.

"Sorry, George. I'm just thinking about your legacy," said Rove.

"You're talking about history books? Damn those. Don't read them. No one does anymore. You got to get with the times, Karl. You got to get with the times," said Bush.

No comments:

Post a Comment