Dear George: All I can say, my friend, is be very thankful for the New York Yankees, because if it wasn't for them clogging up the airwaves last night, a hell of a lot more people would have seen you giggle and gosh your way through what, mercifully, was your final debate. Honestly, George, what has been with you these last couple of weeks? Eleven points up and a month to go and you not only fall for a rope-a-dope, you practically hang yourself with one.

Well, I suggest you'd better hope people keep tuning in to see the Yankees, because these next three weeks are going to be filled with some seriously messy politics. And unless you pick up your game, old chum, the boys in pinstripes are likely to be the only people to beat anyone from Massachusetts this fall.

Speaking of which, George, I got your little note this week, and while I find it quaint that you thought to wrap it around a dead fish and leave it on my doorstep, there is absolutely no way that I'm going to sit here and let you pin this debacle on me. I said to out-grim him, George, not out-grimace him. There is a difference, and all you ended up doing in the first debate is looking like a petulant Bella Lugosi instead of the fearless leader you should be.

What happened to that tough hombre I remember strutting around a flight deck in front of a "Mission Accomplished" sign last year? Sure, I know it isn't, but you could at least act like it.

Now don't get me wrong, George. I know these debates are very difficult, what with all those facts, figures, time clocks and nasty questions that no one bothered to clear with you ahead of time. And I think it's safe to say that you weren't the only one who was a little stunned to discover that the holy communist terror from Beantown not only has a pulse, but a pretty effective uppercut to boot.

But you had an eleven-point lead, George. ELEVEN POINTS! You know what your lead is down to now, my friend? Well, you don't have one, that's what it's down to, and I don't need to tell you just how many of us are depending on you having a lead, particularly when it comes to our portfolios. Kerry is going to give all those juicy contracts away to foreigners, George; people who eat croissants; people who eat schnitzels; people who refuse to eat at McDonalds, old boy.

That's un-American, George. You know that, I know that, but some people are starting to forget that. What did all those people die for if the reconstruction contracts go to the French and Germans?

Not only that, but Kerry actually wants to put a stop to this, bring the boys home and appeal to the UN. And while I know he doesn't have a hope in hell of doing it, he's going to try, and if there is one thing that puts a serious crimp in arms sales it's a president who is only half-heartedly at war. We can't have that, George. I took it on good faith to put most of my retirement funds into General Dynamics and Lockheed Martin shares, but they're not going to be worth an Iraqi Dinar if the French end up doing most of the shooting.

All this "let's get along with our neighbours" and diplomacy talk is starting to worry me. I'm not diversified enough for you to get along with your neighbours, George, and you're the man who will keep them pissed off.

Needless to say, this is serious business, and if you've got Osama tucked away in a freezer somewhere, I suggest now's the time to haul him out, instead of contradicting yourself on national television about whether or not you're concerned about him. I don't think I need to emphasize that that was not a good move, George, but even if you've got a corpse that at least looks like the man, start showing him off. Just make sure he's extra tall and heavy on the beard. If people are still skeptical, have Larry King look him over.

If Larry believes, America believes, George...just make sure you leave a little extra in his stocking come Christmas.