Dear George,
At last! I finally understand your ejaculative genius! God has gifted you with the unique talent of turning lemonade into lemons. Just look at all you’ve accomplished. In the year 2000, you took the helm of a country at peace (if you ignore a few bombs dropped on Baghdad just to keep Sadam honest), with a budget surplus, a country pretty well admired around the world (except where we were hated and despised).
I have to admit that your first eight months in office were a repeat of Harkin Oil and the Air National Guard. There were a few bright spots: pulling out of the Kyoto Treats and unilaterally canceling of our Nuclear Nonproliferation Treaty with Russia. Other than that, you were kind of futzing around.
Then came 9/11 and, suddenly, you shone like a meteorite on a collision course with the Earth. For a brief moment, whole goddamn world was behind us! You looked around and said, “This has gotta change!” And change it you did. You trashed Iraq and increased the number of terrorists out to get us, you soured relations with our traditional allies (except for your lapdog, Blair), you fucked up Katrina, you proved to the world that our military might was a paper tiger, and you ingested our surplus and spit up a record-breaking deficit.
When you leave office in 2008, you will leave a country in shambles, and I love you for it! The world is a more exciting place when it’s screwed up. It’s people like you who shine because history remembers the fuckups with greater clarity than the saints. Who has the bigger name: Jack the Ripper or Florence Nightingale? I rest my case! You have brought a punk rock mentality to politics; if you want to be remembered, you have to start smashing some furniture.
Your admirer,
Belacqua Jones
9:11:11 PM 
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