From: gwb
To: Hank Blakely
Sent: Monday, June 03, 2002
Subject: Travelin', or havin' a Pit-Bull up your butt, I can't decide
 
Here's one you maybe ain't heard:
 
Two fellas is sittin' in a bar, talkin', when a third fella comes in and spots 'em. "Say," says the third fella, what you two fellas doin'?
 
"We plannin' World War III," First fella says.
 
-- Oh, wait a minute. Did I mention the first fella's supposed to be me? 'Cause it's kind uvva joke on me, y' see.
 
So anyway, "We plannin' World War III," says me.
 
"World War III?" third fella says --
 
-- Oh, nuts, I should a' told you the second fella was Colin. So me and Colin was the two fellas who was in the bar 'fore the third fella come in and ask what's we doin.
 
"World War III?" third fella says, all incredible, "What's you gonna do?" He says.
 
So then I -- not the real me, the made up me -- says "We gonna blow up a million folks in Iraq and shoot a washin'-machine repairman."
 
Third fella says, "Why you gonna shoot a washin'-machine repairman?"
 
Hee-hee. Ain't that a good one? I mean even if it is one on me?
 
Funny, though, now that I look at it wrote down, it don't seem as hilarious as when Dick C told it. Could be I left somethin' out.
 
Seems to me I'm forgettin' more and more these days. May be the result a' my head bein' stretched by so much travelin'.
 
But I think it was worth it. I think I done a lotta good while I was over there. One thing I hear is that Putie's Russia is now bein' looked at like it's a "market economy." I'm partic'lar glad a' that, 'cause I 'member how, when he was up here visitin' , how jealous he got over our supermarkets, and now looks like he's gettin' some a' his own.
 
That don't mean it was all good. A lotta the folks I met in the foreign capitals seemed to be laughin' at a few more things than they was to laugh at. Half the time I wasn't exactly sure we was all laughin' at the same thing. I know damn well one time we wasn't. I was talkin' to Ferdy Cardoso, President a' Brazil, and I ask him -- 'cause how 'm I supposed to know -- if he had blacks in Brazil like we do. I thought Condi was gonna die on the spot. She real quick explained that Brazil got practical more blacks than anybody, and then moved on to another subject fast as she could. It was a little embarrassin', I guess, but, like I say, how 'm I supposed to know?
 
Later on I heard Ferdy got in a dig about was I "still in trainin'?" But the worst part was when we was leavin', and we hear some laughin' goin' on behind us -- not for the first time, neither. I could see that Condi was gettin' agitated, so to put her more at ease, I told her to ignore all the titters. Then, forgettin' who I was with, I passed a pleasantry that I subsequent wish I hadn't to.
 
Besides a sense a' humor, one a' the other things Condi ain't got is a tolerance for incorrectitude. She prides herself on steerrin' me clear a' these kinds a' Snafus, and she take it personal when they blows up anyway. Condi don't like loose ends. That's 'cause they ain't nothin' loose 'bout Condi, who, if you ask me, is trussed up a little tighter than a pork roast.
 
Here's a tip: if Condi invites you to her house, and you ain't quick enough to think uvva reason why you can't go? You should know that when Condi tells you to "put your feet up," she mean it literal. She ain't a gal for messiness.
 
Which is partic'lar odd, 'cause she's in the messiest business they is. Innernational politics is all about messy.
 
I spent some time lookin' at the two faces a' the problem, and I come to a few contusions. First off, I don't think it's 'sposed to make sense. Seems to me you spend more 'n half your time fussin' with your friends and cooperatin' with your enemies. 'Fact, the words "friend" and "enemy" don't even seem to mean nothin' no more.
 
And even if the word "friend" do mean somethin' it don't matter as far as we's concerned, 'cause we ain't got any. People all over is upset 'cause we is the only superpower, and they 'cuse us a' makin' up the rules. Hell, that ain't the point. When you is the only the superpower, they ain't no rules, they's just stuff what works and stuff what don't. You tell Pakistan to stop incursionin' Cashmere, and if that don't work you go tell India to stop tryin' to nuclearize Pakistan, and if that don't work you close the door and beat on both uvvem with a baseball bat wrapped in a towel so it don't leave no marks. That usual works.
 
They all think we got a superior attitude 'cause we think we better than they is. But that ain't it at all; we's just different. In a better way.
 
Still, I swear, if somethin' fatal was to happen to America, I don't think nobody 'd come to the funeral.
 
Oh, wait a minute. I got it! I got it! Third fella says, "Why you gonna shoot a washin'-machine repairman?" And I pokes Colin in the arm and says, "See? I told you nobody 'd care 'bout the million Iraquis!"
 
It's a much better joke when you tells it right.