Well, well. In honor of the great and powerful George W. Bush, I'd like to buy the bar a round of Miers and Coke. What a harsh run of luck he's having right now (gloat, gloat), what with having had to count on his fingers again to pick a new Supreme Court judge nominee -- and one who won't be required to turn over documents relating to his legal affairs. Wouldn't that have been a riot? Guess that little detail threw a real wrench into things. What if Miers had handled the deal when Bush traded Sammy Sosa from the Texas Rangers and she had to turn over that paperwork? Talk about embarrassing. What the White House needs right now is a big party. Maybe they should throw a "rove." You know, dress in black, play some crazy music, take some ecstasy, dance like crazy, and leak the name of a CIA agent. Oh wait. Karl isn't getting indicted right away. That's the plight of Scooter Libby. My favorite Bush quote on this so far is, "If someone has leaked this information and has broken the law, that person will be taken care of." How many volumes does that speak? I honestly think he believes this is about the White House plumbing. I just hope Brownie doesn't get in any more trouble. I would hate for the rest of the world to see headlines reading, "Scooter and Brownie: American Political Icons on the Skids." I'm sure the ingenious columnist Ann Coulter would love that, since her greatest claim to fame so far, other than the fact that whoever does her eye makeup is on acid, is that she had never heard of Scooter until a few days ago, a statement she has repeated at least 3,000 times with the same smirk on every insane television news show that wastes airtime to have her on. But I have good news -- for a change -- for George. I have a new television show in mind for him (like it's not already one big television show) that might lift his spirits, since now even his buddies are mad at him. And what nerve they have, with him having made all that money for them with oil deals and wars and construction contracts and the like. You'd think they would stick up for him. He sticks up for them whenever they get caught with their hand in the till, a la Tom DeLay. In the new show, Bush's going to play a middle-aged washed-up businessman named Walker Pennsylvania. That's his porn name, derived by using his middle name and the name of the street he lives on. It's supposed to be the name of the street you grew up on, but I don't know if estates in Connecticut and Maine have street names. My porn name is Floyd Boxwood; how great is that? And just how juvenile do you think I can possibly make this? At least it doesn't involve pet names. In the show, Walker is a loveable loser. He knows he's not the brightest bulb in the chandelier and he doesn't pretend to be anything else. He clowns around a lot and tinkers around the house, and he has two nutty daughters who make fun of him all the time, but they really love him. He wears funny ties and walks around making a farting noise by flapping his underarm over his hand, and his daughters and his wife just roll their eyes. He's semi-retired and has a pension and doesn't want for much, but he always has some deal in the works, only none of them ever works out. Fortunately, he has family and friends who bail him out. Every time he meets someone he shakes hands and grins and says, "Glad you got to meet me!" He's basically a harmless, sort of charming guy, and his next-door neighbor is Scott McClellan. Together, they are quite a pair of high-jinks-loving dudes, racing lawnmowers around the yard, throwing lit firecrackers into the toilet, etc. At the end of every episode they kick back in their recliners and tell silly jokes and then doze off and everything is okay. Like I said, it's television. And it wouldn't be a half-bad legacy for him.