Betty Bowers: October Newsletter

Here's the October Newsletter from Betty Bowers.

Dear Members of the Republican (GOP) Guard:


I am just back from Miami and I am pleased to say that our handsome President thought that the debates went wonderfully and according to plan. Just like Iraq. In your giddiness from the relief of your disloyal vision, once again, being corrected by the balm of our President's thoughtful speechwriters, don't forget to take time out of your day to stop someone on the street and implore him or her to "Remember Poland!" No, it doesn't have quite the ring to it that "Remember the Maine" did in a previous wholly discretionary war abetted by powerful journalists (well, owners of former-journalists -- then, Mr. Hearst – now, Mr. Murdoch). But it is important to note that should those "nucular" troublemakers in Pyongyang get feisty tomorrow, Poland's cavalry could be within a day's ride of the Korean Peninsula by Christmas. Which is heartening, as we have no troops left of our own to send, as they are all otherwise engaged protecting the oilfields of Saddam bin Laden . . . or was it Osama Hussein?



In all candor, I must admit that there are days when I go whole hours without thinking of dear, sweet Poland. Nevertheless, perhaps it is our handsome President who should have joined me in this geographic slight last night. After all, President of the Republic of Poland Aleksander Kwasniewski was discourteous enough to note: "[The Bush administration] deceived us about the weapons of mass destruction, that's true. We were taken for a ride." Honestly, those Poles remind me of surly Jenna Bush sometimes. Invited to the party – and then gets all tetchy because there's a cash bar.



And speaking of poles, I don't think Jenna's pole-dancing for John McCain and the press once her mother had nodded off after her "bonus" Halcyon kicked in helped with our President's concentration during the debate. Which may have provoked his comment about "keeping my girls on a leash." Call me clairvoyant, but I took that as a harbinger of an early parole for Private Lynndie England!


I will say this: President Bush may have come across in his reaction shots as a tad surly and scared, but he is quite the sassy little coquette in his new beige blond hairdo! How fabulous that Mr. Bush chose not to stay the course with yesterday afternoon's white 'do that, all for the wont of intentionally cheap pearls, risked making him look like his mother after an elusive diet. Just an hour before the debate began, Georgie asked me, "2B or not 2B?" I quickly steered him towards the sink and lobbied persuasively that he opt for a flip with Clairol 7B (Tawny Summer), rather than an inevitable flop with Clairol 2B (Anemic Crone).



After retrieving my Aveda Sun Source tanning crème from Mr. Bush (and admonishing him that one five ounce tube is generally not thought to be "one application" by those who've never dated Ben Affleck), I tried to quell his concerns about his new saucy blond locks by saying: "Even as a Christian, I know that it's better to be whorey than hoary, dear!" (Which left him looking rather perplexed – an expression he was unable to shake for several hours.)


"Saddam Hussein, if he's alive, is spending a whale of a lot of time trying to not get caught. And we've not seen him on a video since 2001."
-- Donald Rumsfeld, September 11, 2004.



"Of course we're after Saddam Hussein"

-- George W. Bush, September 30, 2004.


Angry lib commentators danced in American solider blood when Mr. Bush appeared to make a slip by referring to Saddam Hussein as the man living in a cave in Tora Bora. This was no slip. Mr. Bush and Mr. Rumsfeld were simply adhering to the recent decision by the administration to make public what was previously a secret policy: confusing Saddam Hussein with Osama bin Laden. It keeps terrorists (and the composers of terrifyingly awful songs about being followed by moon shadows) on their toes if they think America is so diligent in the War on Terra that we are still hunting people we've already caught. Although if I were Barack Obama, I would think twice before checking into a hotel in Bora Bora. Soon, the money we devote to protecting ourselves (approximately 15 cents out of every dollar we spend protecting the Iraqis) will result in a super-complete terrorist homonym database. Just as soon as Tom Ridge finds someone to fill the FBI's Microsoft DOS 2.0 programming position. (Speaking of intelligence needs, where are the Spanish translators to decipher all those "Mexed messages" the President is so rightly concerned about?)

Between us, I do worry about the next debate between Mr. Cheney and Mr. Edwards. I fear that Cheney will look like a Rottweiler trying to attack a beautiful Springer Spaniel puppy – and America will recoil. When I told Laura this while sneering at Jenna's unladylike slacks, Laura replied: "Dick's only heart problem appears to be that he doesn't actually have one." I'll give her this: Pickles can usually be relied on for a zinger if you catch up to her before the White House pharmacist.

On a positive note, I'm glad that the President was able to clearly pronounce the non-flip-floppity Bush Doctrine of Foreign Policy: We can invade Iraq without consulting anyone, but can't even talk to North Korean without China holding our hand.

GOD BLESS YOU, BETTY BOWERS!!!!!!