We have noted, with a mixture of empathetic sorrow and "Euuuuw, gross!" the President's suffering last week at the hands of the colonoscopists. Our medical experts inform us that the patient is required to take Colyte, a purgative solution that effectively displaces what is delicately referred to in the literature as "residue." Thus, during this procedure, the President was only full of Colyte.
 
He was also, at least temporarily, not President -- in accord with the 25th Amendment to the Constitution, which requires the Vice President to assume the office in the event of Presidential incompetence. (Yes, yes, but we don't have time to go into that just now!)
 
During this time, the Vice President's official title was that of "Acting President," which may trouble those of our readers familiar with the Law of Impenetrability, which states that no two objects may occupy the same space at the same time. To them we say, be not afraid, the law applies only if both objects are real.
 
Shortly after the operation the President's authority -- that is to say, all that he had prior to the operation -- was restored to him. The White House assures us the hand-over involved no significant disruption of day-to-day routine, and we have no reason to doubt them.
 
We know that there are they as feel we cannot be trusted with the sensitive topic of presidential residue. There are they as expect us to perceive in this intelligence some clarion call to wickedness; that we can not, in short, be trusted to be adult in this regard. But they are they as do we great wrong, for we are not so fundamentally unkind -- particularly in matters of the fundamental kind. When presented with temptation of this sort, we rise above it, hissing sternly, "Get thee behind us, Satan!"
 
And in truth the President's difficulty is no laughing matter. There is a constitutional issue at play here: whether the displacement of Mr. Bush's residue renders him only half the man we almost elected, and thus defrauds us of our vote -- that part of it not already defrauded.
 
If we had wanted half a President we would have voted for Pat Buchanan in the first place.
 
Reluctant as we are to escalate this matter into a constitutional kerfuffle, we at Team W nevertheless demand the restoration of the presidential residue. We want it put back -- all of it, and now. Our motto: "Full Bush, or no Bush at all."
 
We would ask the Congress to intervene, but the Hill-sters are lately consumed with a dilemma of their own. Following on the decision of the 9th Circuit Court of Appeals (California, wouldn't you know) to declare the Pledge of Allegiance unconstitutional -- specifically the words "under God." The decision has caused a virtual traffic jam in Congress: long lines form in the Senate and House cloakrooms as legislators stand nearly paralyzed in a quandary over whether to wrap themselves in the flag or the bible.
 
This is an issue of great personal distress since these two words are the only part of the Pledge many of them can recall.
 
If the next Congress is to be better, it seems we must turn to New Jersey, where a dedicated group of Garden Staters is attempting to draft rapidly maturing rocker Bruce Springsteen for the U.S. Senate. The avowedly reluctant Boss' Shermanesque rejection of their efforts so far seems not to have deterred the drafters, some of whom were responsible for the gubernatorial victory of Minnesota Miracle, Jesse Ventura -- now semi-voluntarily retiring from office.
 
We will only say it seems that at least a few of Springsteen's public comments belie his ostensible renunciation. In them we find numerous hints that might be construed as evidence of subterranean political ambition. Par exemplum, we cite several that emerged in the course of a recent performance:
 
"Tramps like us, baby we were born to run,"
 
How much clearer could he be? Or this evidence of thoughtful political realism:
 
"Baby, this town rips the bones from your back. It's a death trap, it's a suicide rap,"
 
as concise a description of life in the nation's capital as any we've heard.
 
Several of the more timorous W Team staff have expressed concern that a Springsteen candidacy might lead to the spectral horror of a presidential bid by Madonna, since that and piracy upon the high seas are the only endeavors left to the ever-renascent chanteuse.
 
But there is no need to venture into apocalyptic speculation at this point. We welcome the entry of the perennial rock-meister's fedora into the electoral ring, if for no other reason than we might at last enjoy the rare sight of a lawmaker who is clearly in tune with his job.
 
Still unknown is how the President would receive this information. Mr. Bush, is momentarily soured on popular entertainers because, as he has complained, no matter how enthusiastically he waves to such superstars as Stevie Wonder, Ray Charles or Ronnie Milsap, they never wave back.
 
Well, the joke's on them, we say. Speaking of which we present, appearing in the Caesar's Palace of the mind this week only, "Standup," a shticky-wicked that's sure to leave you in stitches -- perhaps literally.
 
And finally this Team W public service announcement: the government warns us to be extra careful about terrorism during tomorrow's sacred American holiday. Be on the lookout for people with explosives.
 
And that's a wrap for this week's nihilistic vision. Until next time -- if the water isn't over our heads by then,
 
Hank
 
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