Dear Batshit Loopy Leader of the Free World,

I want to apologize, sir.  I know you have come to rely on my advice.  And I feel like I haven’t been there for you lately.  Since you were taking a five week vacation in Crawford I figured I could get away for a while, too.  But since your administration, and the entire Republican Party of which you are the head, seem to be falling apart, I cut my vacation short, so that I might offer you a few items of constructive criticism.  Please consider the following:
First, sell the fucking ranch.  Everyone I know that could pass the SAT knows that Bush is to Ranching like Truthful Accounting is to Enron.  People pretty much understand that you are going there to do some yard work and knock back a few stiff ones.  It has been in the Enquirer for fucking God’s sake.  And ask Tom Cruise – once they are on to you, the secret is pretty much over.  Plus, with how badly you have fucked up the entire planet, people don’t really want to think about you on vacation, while they’re working their collective asses off trying to figure out a way to pay for that extra dollar-thirty a gallon gas is going to cost them.  Fuck it.  No more vacations.  And surely.  No more vacations on “the ranch.”  It is pretty simple really.  Sell the ranch = fewer people in a revolutionary state of mind.  I am pretty certain about this.

Second, never, ever, listen to Turdblossom again, when he tells you that it will be a good idea to fly over a disaster area of biblical proportions with a photographer anywhere on your goddamned plane.  If you haven’t figured it out for yourself yet, Rove’s political instincts have left him more quickly than HCA stock flying out of Frist’s portfolio before a bad quarterly report.  That picture of you, flying over New Orleans, while tens of thousands of Americans were trapped inside hell holes designated as government evacuation points – sleeping with dead people and feces – was the single image that many of us will carry to our graves, right above the caption of “Worst Fucking President in the history of the world.” I can’t lie to you here.  The damage that photo has done is irreversible.  Many, many Americans will hate and despise you until either you, or they, are buried.  But don’t make it any worse.  Things are going to get out of fucking hand if you make it any worse.  I am seriously afraid that your ineptitude may actually disintegrate the very institutions which have allowed us to peacefully transfer power democratically for the last two-hundred and some years here in the U.S.  So stay the fuck away from 1) disaster areas, 2) cameras, and 3) Rove.  Please.  I am begging you here.  To recap.  No more photos of you looking on helplessly as the nation collapses = some chance that we will not suffer some kind of popular fucking revolt ending with guillotines or some shit.

Third, please read Article II, Section 2, Clause 1, of the United States Constitution.  No.  I’m not kidding.  It is only about a hundred words long.  Just wait until Cheney, Rummy, and Rove are out planning to bomb Iran, and ask your secretary to bring you a copy.  You can even ask her to highlight the fucking appropriate passage.  Because you are the fucking President.  It is amazing.  But, it is very important that you read it.  I will even give you my analysis of this key section, to make it easy.  You are the Commander and Chief of the United States Armed Forces.  Nobody else.  It is you.  This is the “George Washington” clause of the great document that your administration is destroying.  This clause gives you, and you alone, the power to do something really fucking great.  You know your poll numbers and how fucked they are.  I can make them better.  I am sure of it.  Just repeat after me, “I order the complete and immediate withdrawal of U.S. forces from Iraq.”  Practice it.  Break it down into three word pieces and say it over and over.  But you need to act fast.  Because you are fucking murdering people.  Daily.  I know, you probably don’t even realize it.  You are simple.  I can understand that.  But real people are fucking dying daily, for no fucking reason.  They wrote you speeches.  And they told you there were good reasons.  But, everyone in the whole fucking world now knows that this was complete and utter bullshit.  So just learn to say it.  “I order – the complete – and immediate – withdrawal – of U.S. forces – from Iraq.”  They have to listen to you.  You are the Commander and Chief.  You don’t even have to give them a fucking reason.  But, if you need help, call me.  Okay.  I am there.  But they have to fucking listen.  I guarantee you a ten point bounce on day one after you announce this.  Just do it.  Because if you don’t, you are going to have to stay in the fucking White House all the time for the next three years.  I was on your lawn this weekend.  There were like a half-a-million people.  And they all hated you and Cheney.  They know.  Okay.  They know.  It is all a lie.  I walked by your house, and they were screaming at you to fucking leave.  And it is not going to get better okay.  There is no getting better from here.  Admit it.  Give the fucking order.  And some people will stop hating you.  We are a forgiving country, sir.  But don’t kill anyone else.  Please.  Be a human being.  You remember what it was like, to ponder going to a foreign land to die, right?  Right before you got into the Guard.  And fuck Cheney.  He’ll be okay.  He’s got a summer home that isn’t on the Gulf Coast, doesn’t he?  Okay.  Here is the shorthand.  Read Constitution + Feel Empowered = Stop Unjustifiable Death and Destruction by Uttering a Simple Sentence.  I’m not kidding here, sir.  I would back you on this, if you would grow the balls to do it.

Fourth.  This one is really simple.  Get a fucking doctor to adjust your meds.  You are totally fucked.  I have seen it before.  Lots of people on psychotropic meds get tics and shit.  But you, unlike a vast and growing number of people over whom you rule, have access to the best health care in the world.  When your secretary brings you the Constitution, just tell her to get the best doctor money can buy, and have him or her make a fucking house call.  You are looking horrible.  People are starting to talk.  It is kind of disconcerting with the whole “you having access to the Nuclear codes thing,” not to mention all the shit that Majestic 12 probably told you about the Alien Technology Project at Area 51.  You gotta get the meds straight.  Fewer Facial Tics = Less time I will spend in therapy imagining you are going to end the world, not because you are an asshole, but because your finger fucking twitched while you were playing with the red button.

Fifth, it is never really too early to start working on a resignation speech.  The silver lining here is that there have been so few of them, it is something, that if you start working now, you might be considered the best at.  The list of greatest resignation speeches would look like this.  1) George W. Bush.  2) Richard M. Nixon.  That’s something, huh?  Better than the consolation prizes they used to give away on the old Let’s Make A Deal Show.  Remember that show?  That was a hoot, huh?  Seriously though.  Things are just looking dire everywhere you fucking stare, aren’t they?  Delay indicted.  Frist under investigation.  Rove under investigation.  Libby under investigation.  Brownie resigned in disgrace.  Any sane fucking person you ever had in your government (Powell, O’Neill) gone.  Downing Street.  Katrina.  Iraq.  Abramoff.  (Did that guy really fucking have someone whacked?)  Fuck.  It kind of makes Monica look pretty laughable, huh?  And a Democratic Congress just about one year away.  Just work on the speech.  If you are humble when you make the address – you know, human.  Say something like, “I was just never up for the job, and I am really sorry.”  I think that alone would get you to number one on the list.  Plus – don’t give the double peace signs when you get on the chopper.  Unless of course, you actually issue the order to end the war.  Then maybe the peace signs would be okay.  Okay?  Hard Work on Resignation Speech = Pretty Good Chance You Can Top Nixon.

I gotta run.  I’d love to make myself available to you for actual consultations, but I don’t really want to hurt my public image.  I’ll write again as the inevitable day gets closer.  Hang in there.  And give the order.  It will help a little.