The Steady Quarterback

Dear George: Another good week, my friend, and while it's beyond me how you got that nice little group of war vets to lay into old captain cardboard with those stories about Koward Kerry running away from all that nasty gunfire, it sure seems to be playing well. Swift Boat Veterans for Truth?! Who the hell came up with that name? Dick? Well, whoever thought of it, give them my kudos. Now you've got the old peacenik having to say how eager he was to run in there and kill some gooks, which is a seriously nasty piece of optics compared to that little bit of hooky you played with the National Guard. And before you say it, I know you had a hot date, but quite frankly, George, a year is a hell of a long time to be on a date.

And I must tell you, old boy, I'm really starting to buy this divine providence thing of yours, because if the stars weren't already lined up to order as it was, there comes Hurricane Charley, wiping away half the eastern seaboard and setting the stage for another installment of The Caring President. Beautiful, George, simply beautiful. Hollywood has nothing on you, my man. You almost had me believing you, for God's sake, or at least until I caught that little twinkle in your eye.

I know that look, George. You were just counting votes, weren't you? Well, you go right ahead and count, hombre. You've earned them.

But here's the thing, old chum, and don't get me wrong, I'm not about to start raining on your victory parade (hell, George, I've already picked out a new suit), but given just how well things are going and all, do you really need to be pushing for all these little extras you've got planned for the happy voters? Fully functioning missile defense by the end of September? Democratic elections in Afghanistan by October?! It's a bit like going for a couple of on-side kicks in the second quarter, isn't George?

And let's face it, my friend. It is only the second quarter, the game is tied, and you're the '85 Chicago Bears to Kerry's Cleveland Browns (any Cleveland Browns). The points will come, George, they will come easily. Just keep picking up the fumbles and let your defense do the work. This is not a time to get fancy.

Because quite frankly you're going to start looking a little silly when both these things don't work. You and I both know that missile defense is like trying to pick off a supersonic tsetse fly from five miles away, and unless you know something I don't, George, you haven't been able to hit a barn with a howitzer from ten feet. And yes, George, I know your arms dealing friends are just drooling to get their hands on those development contracts, but can't it wait? At least until you hit a barn?

And the same goes for all this election stuff in Afghanistan. These people are still sweeping up the rubble from the last promise you made, and are about as ready to vote as a stuck pig is ready to fly. People are buying up votes, George, and while corruption is old news around here, these people really don't have the knack for it like we do just yet. Hell, half of them think their registration cards are food stamps, and those are the one's who actually have them. Is that really the example of Middle Eastern democracy you want to hold up to voters in October? Their election is going to make Florida's seem like textbook democracy, and you really don't want anyone making that connection, George. Trust me.

No, George. It's time to play the steady quarterback. Just keep handing off the ball, no fumbles, watch out for sacks, and let this election come to you. And while I know this sort of stuff looked like it was needed a few months ago, it sure isn't now, and there's no need to run every play in the book, especially when you're up against a team that seems more interested in turnovers than touchdowns. It's yours to lose my friend, and this is an upset you don't want next to your name.

Just ask your Dad.