Dear George: Now see, what did I say? You are in serious need of help, my friend, and I don't mean with those damn missile defense tests, though I really wish you'd go back to rigging the results of a few, just for publicity's sake. I know it makes for great defense contracts, and I'm certainly enjoying all my capital gains this year, but if people keep seeing how useless those bloody rockets are, there's going to be more than just a little talk about having Rumy's resignation on a platter, perhaps even about having the silly fool stuffed and baked for Christmas. When are you going to fire that idiot, anyway? Loyalty is one thing, but at the rate the man is going, he might just end up getting you impeached for poor judgment of character.

No, George, I'm talking about Iraq, and you'll have to pardon me for being a little hot under the collar, but every time I open my newspaper, I see you trying to polish coal into diamonds like a two-bit pawnshop dealer. And while I know this stay-on-message thing plays great at home, we have a tiny little problem in that it is not playing at all well over in the land of dust, guns, and under-armored troop transports. People are getting shot up, morale is at an all-time low, and about the only thing you seem to be re-building is a Halliburton tent!

Saying the military is on a peace mission while standing around in an army hospital parking lot might sound good to the folks in Crawford, George, but it's a bit of a silly thing to say, given the circumstances, and I suspect downright frightening for your troops to hear.

Try watching someone other than Bill O'Reilly, old chum. The last thing that is going on over there is a peace mission.

Now, don't get me wrong, George. I'm a little angry, but I'm not stupid. Both you and I knew that this would be a bit of a mess, and I'm not going to sit here and tell the man who pulled the wool over a nation's eyes with slight of hand not seen since Houdini that he doesn't know what he's doing. You're the man, hombre, and between ignorance and a full second-term mandate there's not much to stop you short of a New Year's Eve cocaine binge with naked, under-aged midgets, given that half of America thinks you're the second coming.

No, I'm not worried about that, George; though do stay away from the midgets. There'll be time enough for that later.

What's got me just a little steamed is that I read in the morning paper today that the rats are fleeing the ship, and I don't mean deserters, though we're already getting a few of those arriving here begging for refugee status and a hug. No, my friend, the problem is that contractors are starting to leave. You know: the guys who are there to make money? They can't afford to keep their people safe, and while I know those Halliburton folks are still a tough bunch of cookies who would go to hell itself to make a few bucks, by the time the first round of elections are over hell's going to look awfully attractive in Iraq.

Which leaves me wondering, George: with only a few weeks to an all-important election that should see the lucky winner in charge of little more than main street Baghdad, why is it, old chum, that you're leaving your trip to Europe until after it's over?

You see, the key to making money off reconstruction is to actually have people there reconstructing. And between you and me, George, you didn't send those kids over there just to free a country. Hell, you could have done that in Sudan for a fraction of the cost, so don't start giving me that rubbish. But unless you get some help, old boy, this last week is not only going to be the norm, but seriously bad for business, not to mention the damage it's going to do to the Republican cause.

Think LBJ and Vietnam, George. Democrats have been paddling upstream ever since.

No, my friend, it's time for you to suck it up and play nice with foreigners, unless, of course, you have an extra 100,000 battle-ready troops tucked away somewhere that I don't know about.

They don't grow on trees, you know.