Dear George: Now, wasn't that fun? And you thought I was kidding when I suggested Canada would be a good place to try out a few of those foreign policy ideas, though I must say you really outdid yourself with that Mackenzie King quote. Hell, George, most people up here figured you wouldn't even know we had former Prime Ministers, much less start to cite one. I haven't seen that many jaws drop in unison since Janet Jackson let it all fly at the Super Bowl. But, between you and me, King was a bit of a nutter who liked to hold séances and talk to dead house pets, so you might want to leave him out of the conversation next time.

And if it's all the same, perhaps you could hold off on any more visits, at least until folks up here recover a bit...we're not used to that much swagger, George.

You see, old chum, what worries me is not so much how you stirred things up with blunt talk about missile defense and the like. No, we both know that Canada is about as much help to you as a short order cook is to a brain surgeon, but I wonder how all those sensitive ninnies in "old Europe" are going to take to, well how should I put this, George? The new you?

I mean, no offense, buddy, but if you get any more cocky you're going to start crowing at sunrise.

Now, I don't want to take the steam out of your engine, George, and Lord knows you have every right to strut a little after the election, but I think it's time to settle down and face some facts. And before you say it, no, I'm not referring to your golf slice, though if you'd just widen your stance a little you might save your security a few trips into the rough retrieving your balls.

And, no, George, I'm not poking fun at your balls, either. Relax.

What I'm referring to is Iraq. Let's face it, George, it's going about as well as a botched root canal. Sure, we stand to make some good bucks off this exercise, but like any good investment, George, there's only so long you can let it bleed money before you need to see a return. There's a lot of bleeding going on over there, my friend, and while I know you want to have those elections held next January come hell or high water, you might have better luck getting Falwell and Graham to shack up in holy matrimony before you get anything that resembles a functioning election.

You need help there, George. You're short of staff and equipment, and from the way Rumy's pep talk to the troops went yesterday, you're likely facing mutiny before Christmas. And you thought you could fight two wars at once? George, they're piecing together Humvees with recycled scrap over there. How are we supposed to make any money that way? You did not get into this to be a junk dealer, and until you give me some shares in scrap metal, I can't exactly get excited over the news.

So, while I know the whole idea of making nice with a bunch of stodgy, stuck-up continentals strikes you as being about as appetizing as three-day-old sushi, you simply can't go to Europe with the same "my way or the highway" speech that you gave here, or the only thing you're going to walk away with is a couple of stale croissants and some Swiss chocolate. And yes, George, I know they make fun of you, but you can't dangle things like trade over their heads quite the way you can here.

So my advice, George, is to go over there, try to get along, have a french fry or two, or as the French say, "frites" (don't worry, it's not that hard to pronounce), and even offer a few rebuilding contracts to soften things up a little. Sure, they don't see the value in a McDonalds franchise, and their movies can be little strange, but there are a lot of troops over there doing nothing more than sipping Perrier or eating bratwurst, George.

And I ask you: Wouldn't they look better nibbling on falafels in Baghdad?