On the way to his practice vacation in Kennebunkport in preparation for his one-month vacation at the Crawford ranch, the President's head came into abrupt and involuntary contact with the door frame of the presidential helicopter.
 
Alert Secret Service agents instantly wrestled the helicopter to the ground, accidentally smashing it's windshield into the hood of their car several times. Justice Department officials will not comment on reports that the helicopter is being held in warrantless detention for felony assault.
 
The President was immediately air-lifted to Walter Reed Hospital and examined for damage to vital organs, but it seems the blow was only to his head.
 
That harrowing event behind him, we assume the uninjured portion of the President's brain is once again occupied with the nearly mantric obsession that has left his train of thought derailed since September 11th: "Why do they hate us?" This poignant inquiry is newly piquant in light of recent polls showing a majority of Americans now feel the country is on the wrong track; and, more significantly, that they blame present office holders -- presaging a possible incumbent bloodbath in the forthcoming congressional elections.
 
But we suspect the largest bee in the Chief Executive's contused bonnet is circling the international aspect of his question: the Islamic world's implacable and growing detestation of our nation.
 
Critics of White House policy are trampling each other in the rush to offer answers. Their suppositions include: our rapidly tarnishing image as a Middle East honest broker; our decades-long exploitation of Middle Eastern resources; our siding with Russia against the Muslim Chechens; our callous disregard for the lives of Afghani civilians -- indicative, they say, of our studied indifference to the plight of Muslim peoples throughout the world; ... and, oh, just any number of things.

But you have to get up pretty early in the afternoon to pull the wool over the shuttered visage of our President. And in response, Mr. Bush merely stamps his little foot, tosses his pretty head, says "piffle!" and goes off in search of pleasanter alternatives; the current favorite being that they hate us because of our freedom.
 
Supporting, as all good citizens must, our leader in his every act and utterance, we are naturally reluctant to point out what might be considered a significant stumbling block on the way to his conclusion. Nonetheless we feel compelled to note that, since September 11th, freedom in America has experienced a rather substantial reversal of fortune and yet, if anything, the Islamic world seems to hate us even more. Plainly, the truth is still out there.
 
We are reminded of something Sherlock Holmes once told us during one of our not infrequent fever dreams: "When you have eliminated all of the unpleasant possibilities," said the somewhat blurry hawkshaw, "Whatever remains -- however ludicrous -- is what you have to go with."
 
It is in such spirit that we offer a theory that seems at once more likely and so obvious we wonder how it escaped the White House's frenzied attention.
 
Clearly, the answer is...
 
Ice cream! Yes! Ice cream! The Islamic world hates us because we have ice cream and they don't!
 
We ask the reader to recognize that words such as "insane" and "lunatic" do not significantly advance the discussion, and to instead consider the principle of "Occam's Razor," which states that the simplest answer is the one most likely to be correct. Admittedly, as a causative of international enmity "freedom" is a pretty simple answer, but "Ice Cream" is even more so.
 
Then, consider the geopolitical implications: where do most Muslims live? In hot places -- the exact places where ice cream shouldn't be! Hah! Now who's crazy?
 
Recall also that America is the king of ice cream! We've practically got ice cream coming out of our ears! (It doesn't pay to say that too quickly, by the way.) From Butterscotch to Butter Pecan, our confectionery abundance seems bitter as aloes to those ever beyond the comfort of Rocky Road. Under such conditions one may easily understand that mere mention of a banana split would be enough to cause immediate rending of garments and brandishing of scimitars -- if they still have those.
 
Whatever the answer, the administration has undertaken to solve the problem in the quintessential American way. We refer of course to advertising. The newly-formed "Office of Global Communications" will coordinate the presentation and burnishing of our image at home and abroad. The plan is the love-child of former presidential counsel Karen Hughes. This comes as something of a surprise to those of us who thought that Ms. Hughes was presently a-molderin' in her political grave.
 
This is what comes of leaving in the middle of the autopsy.
 
Remember! Only a WOODEN stake! No other will do!
 
Some readers may leap to the unwarranted conclusion that this new effort is merely a techno-pop party-remix of the Pentagon's "Office of Strategic Information," (or, if you will, "Operation Pinnochio") which sought to plant disinformation in the foreign press. We hasten to assure that the two plans are entirely dissimilar. For one thing, the OSI was evil, whereas the OGC is good. For another, Karen Hughes hated the OSI, but she loves the OGC.
 
Also the names are different.
 
The two initiatives do, however, have a similar focus: to cause Islamic observers -- presently convinced that they see American injustice on their every horizon -- to keep rubbing their eyes until they see something else.
 
This plan cannot fail, because advertising is our paramount strength. The industry that has convinced us that toothpaste will make us irresistible, or that Briteny Spears is an artist, can make anyone believe anything. Convincing the Islamic world that our government gives even a faint dam about what happens to them should be child's play.
 
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Oh, and here's some late-breaking news on the presidential assault: the suspected terrorist helicopter is reported to have died of natural causes during questioning by Saudi interrogators contracted to the Justice Department. No further details are available at present. Meanwhile, the President, as Commander-in-Chief, has been awarded a Purple Heart; the first wartime President ever to receive such an honor.
 
That wraps up this week's Junior Woodchuck meet. Be sure to return next week when we'll show you how to enhance the value of your stock portfolio with just an ordinary wastebasket, a can of lighter fluid, and a single strike-anywhere match.
 
In the meantime, so long -- and don't give them your right name,
 
Hank