"If there's a leak out of my administration, I want to know who it is. If the person has violated law, that person will be taken care of."
– George W. Bush, Feb. 11, 2004

Hiya, there, Karl. How you doin', old buddy? You comfortable? Anything I can do for ya? Recline that Barcalounger, maybe? Fluff up your pillow? Get you some nuts? I'd steer clear of the pretzels, if I were you; they look harmless, but they're nasty little suckers.

You know I'm here to take care of you, Karl. It's what I promised I would do a year and a half ago, and by God, it's what I'm going to do. Take care of you. I'm a man of my word, you know that. Heck, we've been together some 32 years. You've seen what kind of guy I am. You've heard what they've always said about me: He's steadfast, he's tenacious, he won't go to bed until the last fleck of the coke is scarfed. All that stuff that equals resolve. And if was going to change all that tomorrow, who would I be changing over? Not my little Turd Blossom! Heh-heh.

I'm looking out for you, Karl. Don't you worry about that. No, siree. Hey, can I turn on the teevee for ya? I think The Man Show might be on. You game? Or are you more in a Bartiromo kind of mood? Just say the word, compadre. The remote is yours.

Whew. Crazy week, huh? The natives sure have been getting restless. But it's meant a lot to me, Karl, to be able to show the American public that I'm standing behind you, like always. Having you walk with me to the helicopter was a big "in your face" to the Demmycrats. And how about that cabinet meeting where I said I wouldn't comment on an ongoing investigation, while you were sitting right there behind me, not speaking a word? When the news out of Washington is dark and confusing, I think people find great comfort in seeing you staring over my shoulder like you're six seconds short of giving the Scarecrow a brain.

Now, I know some folks were surprised I didn't mention you by name. Heck, they went at McClellan like a pack of wild hyenas for doing the same thing. But what's in a name, right, Turdmeister? If we say I have full confidence in "anybody who works at the White House," well, that's gotta mean you, right? Because you're the one we're talking about in the first place. It's like, if I told a reporter that Joe Wilson's wife worked for the CIA, that's basically the same thing as using her name, since he's not an Osmond and only gets to have one wifey at a time. OK, maybe it's a bad example.

How are those tootsies feelin' right about now, Karl? You enjoying the pedicure? That Wa Ling, she sure knows her onions. Get in there deep, honey. The boy's corns are a sight.

Anyway, the reporters only had a field day because somebody told 'em beforehand I'd be mentioning you specifically. No wonder they got so hot. You don't tell people there's an Easter egg hidden on the lawn, they don't know to be disappointed when breakfast is scrapple again. I'd like to know who dropped that little tidbit, anyway. Damn leakers. If I had my way, anybody in this White House who talks to the press off the record would get hung from the Washington Monument by his nuts, then dragged into the quad and … oh, sorry. Getting ahead of myself again.

Karl? Another highball?

Sweet Jesus, it feels good to take care of you, Karl. It's so much better than throwing you over the side like I could. But that's not going to happen. There's no way I'm going to turn my back on a buddy just because he's already won me the last election I'll ever have to stand for. We've got a Republican government to protect that's going to last this entire generation. Those senators and congressmen stuck their necks out for me the last time we were all up at bat. And I don't cut out on people who have been kind enough to put their trust in me. When you invest in George Bush, come hell or high water, you're going to get a return on your investment. Just ask anybody in the Texas Rangers organization.

Now the missus, she don't see it that way. Man to man, Laura's been giving me a lot of noise lately about putting some distance between the two of us. She says that I shouldn't go too crazy giving you credit for every battle and office I've ever won. According to her, any 14-year-old kid can Photoshop a Dominican AIDS baby into Max Cleland's good arm. I think the woman is trying to take advantage of my better nature, Karl. She keeps saying I need to remember it's the man upstairs who's guiding this presidency – the almighty being who has all our best interests at heart and who decided at the dawn of time what every one of us is going to do with our lives. But I just remind her that Uncle Dick puts his pants on one leg at a time like anybody else.

You look happy, Karl. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were born in that chair. Why don't you skooch down a little further and just let the time go? I do this every afternoon; it's how I like to unwind. It's sort of meditation for me, if that doesn't sound too swishy. If you really want to relax, you can concentrate on some soothing words, like "smear" and "push poll" – nothing too complicated, like, oh, say, "political liability."

While you're at it, check out this cute little vial of aromatherapy oil the twins picked up at the mall. Kinda smells like almonds, don't it? Go on, get a good whiff. I know how you love your Almond Joys. That's it, Karl, breathe deep. Breathe … you're getting sleepy … breathe …

Great Gosh a-mighty, there's nothing better than taking care of somebody.

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