Victory At Last

Rumsfeld reported at a confidential meeting of the Cabinet. "Mr President, the entire country is against us. The generals tell me that unless we install mortar-proof canopies on our bases there, our forces will be overrun before the election. We are desperate for new ideas."

"Well," said the President, "let's show them how strong we are. Blow up some of their favorite buildings. Mosques and stuff. Just leave the Oil Ministry alone, we need that one."

"We've already done that, sir."

"Oh. Well, then, remind them who makes the rules. Break down their doors if they have the wrong friends. Mow them down for driving too fast. And if they have a party, strafe it. They may not speak English, but they'll catch on soon enough."

"We've tried all of those, sir, and the problem has only gotten worse."

"Why didn't you tell me about that, Condi? I'm the President, I'm supposed to know these things. But here's an idea. Round up a bunch of them and make them crawl around naked. Beat them, rape their sons and daughters in front of them. Take the gloves off! I want results, dammit!"

"We've done that too, Mr President. You ordered it, and last week you apologized to Prince Abdullah for letting the troops take pictures, remember?"

"Oh, yes, I forgot about that one. Well then, for Christ's sake, I'll have to get you all out of this jam you've got us into and fix this myself. Fire up Air Force One, Colin. Get me my God damned bottle of Jack Daniels, Laura. Take me to Baghdad so I can drink these sons of bitches under the table, man to man."

Colin Powell interceded, "Um, I'm sorry that it was buried in the briefing papers, Mr President, but most of the population of Iraq are teetotalers. They don't drink alcohol."

"Now there you go," said the President, brightening, "They're coming around to our Christian values already!"