| Dear Diary,
What a week this has been, and it's only Wednesday. I've hardly had a chance to catch my breath, with one thing after another. I've been on TV so much that I feel like a movie star. (Scott McClellan tells I look like one - the little ass kisser!) I so looked forward to writing to you yesterday, but when I finally got home, all it took was one glass of Chablis, and I was out like a light.
The big news, of course, is that George gave me permission to testify. About time. He made me plead and plead, but he finally gave in - just like they all do! He can be so mean. And yet so masterful. Honestly, until I started giving him the silent treatment, I really thought he might not compromise his principles. I probably shouldn't have worried about that, I suppose - I haven't met a man I couldn't handle yet!
But it does mean so much to me to be able to stand up and tell my story. Like I told that old Ed Bradley, it means more to me than anything. (Except for my secret wish, but that's between you and me, Dear Diary). I just knew that they would have Bradley interview me for '60 minutes' - they are so predictable. If they have a negro guest, they trot out Ed. Psychology or racism, I don't care. The old man smells like feet.
And speaking of racism, that's another reason I want to testify - to show little Ricky Clarke that I'm still the boss, and always will be. My friend Ann told me that the reason he was being so mean was that he didn't like working for a 'dumb black chick'. The nerve! It's true that when he tried to tell me about al-Qaeda I gave him a blank look, but that's because I thought he said Al Kato. Al Kato is the biggest threat to America? What is he talking about? But then when he repeated himself I said "Oh. I thought you said Al Kato", and we laughed and laughed. I guess I should have fired his ass instead of just demoting him.
Oh well, everything's always clear in hindsight.
Condi |
