Touching our Inner Child

Dear George,

The reason you’re the kind of guy America would like to have a beer with is your eternal youth. We admire anyone who has managed to evade the constricting repression that comes with growth and maturity. You bring to the White House the very qualities that made you stand out as a boy.

In January of 2001, when you first took your seat in the Oval Office, you suddenly realized that America was your frog to do with as you pleased. So you stuffed a firecracker in her mouth, lit it and threw her as far as you could. Eight years later, the bloody remnants of America are scattered across the globe.

You are America’s black hole, and into it has been sucked our prosperity, our credibility, our prestige and our values.

What is so bracing about our makeover is that it has been a bipartisan effort. Thanks to you, we have eliminated the traditional balance of powers that have long been the source of so much tension and rancor. Nor is the country any longer rent by petty disputes between Republicans and Democrats. Blinded by the radiance of your eternal youth, congressional Democrats have bowed before you and acted on your every command.

America is now a lean, mean fighting machine that is so lean and mean we are shaking ourselves apart.

One writer caught your spirit when he remarked:

George Santayana once said that a fanatic is someone who redoubles his efforts as he loses sight of his goals, and, as George W. Bush proved when initiating the Iraq surge, no animal on earth is as fanatical as a politician looking for alternatives to having to admit he was wrong.

Power is never having to say, "Whoops!" or something like that.

The point is that every young boy, when caught standing over his mother’s shattered vase, instinctively says, “I didn’t do it!”

In short, you are the penultimate expression of the America’s youth culture. You have touched your inner child and we are a different country because of it.

Your admirer,
Belacqua Jones