As you may know, your W Team yields to none in its admiration and support of the President whom God has visited upon us. The marbled halls of Command Post W ring with but the single cry: "Go! Bush! Go! -- a sentiment surely echoed by many far beyond these walls.
 
But there are times when the Commander-In-Chief will steer the ship of state toward a shore not readily apparent to ordinary eyes. Such a case now finds expression in the President's Ahab-like determination to sink a final harpoon into the White Whale of Iraq.
 
Never worry, We continue to regard Mr. Bush as our Maximum Leader, and were he to require it of us we would unhesitatingly follow him into hell or Democratic National Headquarters. But we admit to just the teensiest misgiving about his current Middle East strategy--if that is the word we want.
 
We know there are those of you who will say that our tergiversation (assuming you are the kind of person who says things like " tergiversation'), ill becomes us; that we have let down the side, surrendered the ship, chickened, as it were, out. But we say only that we might better assist the President had we the dimmest idea what he is about. And, we're certain, so might he.
 
We are not alone in this conviction. In addition to the general public, which long ago gave up trying to understand the President, we now have the uncustomary spectacle of people in his own party and inner circle cautioning him against his semi-announced course. And all appear to forecast the likely outcome of his plan in various shades of Götterdämmerung.
 
But these voices are drowned by the siren song of Messrs. Cheney, Rumsfeld, Wolfowitz and Perle, who, conjecture aside, are not the law firm of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, but are instead the hawkish counselors that currently have the President's ear--in a figurative sense, of course.
 
These are no ordinary nincompoops. These are men whose respective states have deemed them capable of operating self-propelled vehicles and of obligating sums of money for real estate. And we have no doubt that, given time to prepare, they could breeze easily through a sanity hearing in any state in the union--particularly Texas. These are clever men, courageous men who lead from behind, men undaunted by the deaths of people other than themselves.
 
To appreciate their importance it is necessary to understand that the President's remarkable brain is a beehive of whirring and at times quite opposite thoughts. He depends upon these four men to sort through them and to choose those that best fit a particular circumstance. This is an often perilous task because, like all of nature's beauteous creations, the President's thoughts are perfectly random, and one never knows what inappropriate associations they might trigger in his mind, which is best pictured as a roomful of mousetraps into which a beach ball has been tossed.
 
But now it seems, the War Leader is receiving his cues from an alternative source. Reportedly, he has been reading "Supreme Command," arch-conservative Eliot A. Cohen's new hard-line book on Iraq. This cannot have been an easy process. We envision his advisors' frustration, having successfully trained him to hold the book upright, and to turn the pages in ascending order, only to discover halfway through that they had neglected to instruct him to note the contents of each page as it went by.
 
Frankly we're a little surprised that Mr. Bush would attempt so difficult a reading assignment. We might have supposed it to be his favorite "The Hungry Caterpillar," but of course there is little strategic or tactical grist to be milled from such a volume.
 
Therefore, in hopes of aiding the President's "determinations" (wink-wink), we present him with two fables--abstracted, appropriately, from traditional fairy-tales--that we hope will sound a cautionary knell in his belfry.
 
The Little Red, White and Blue Hen
A little red, white and blue hen, desirous of purloining a delicious ear of corn she spied in another barnyard, asked the duck, the goose and the turkey to help her acquire it. But her friends were decidedly negative. "It would be the patriotic thing to do," she said, but still they would not. "Very, well," she said, "then I will get it myself." And she did.
 
"Who will help me cut the corn?" said the little red, white and blue hen, and again her friends were markedly unenthusiastic. "You three are such a drag," she said, and cut it herself.
 
Now, with the corn in four pieces, the little red, white and blue hen asked with an arch smile, "And who will help me eat the corn? Thinking they would change their tune. But to her surprise they did not. "Go for it, Red," said the duck, waddling away. "Very, well," she said, "then I will eat it myself."
 
And she did. Then she threw up and was very sick for a very long time.
 
 
The Sticky Goat
A farmer's bad goat ate all of the farmer's lettuce and ran away with taunting laughter. "I will catch you, bad billy," muttered the farmer, and ran after him. But the goat was spry and sly and the farmer could not catch him. As they darted about the landscape the farmer called to his neighbors to assist him. His neighbors hated him but dared not refuse because the farmer was powerful and crazy and they had no idea what he might do if they did not help him.
 
Finally they caught the goat, but, to the surprise of all, as soon as they touched it they found themselves stuck to it as fast as a coin to a stock analyst.
 
Now as they sped across the land, and as more and more came to assist, the goat became completely obscured in a tangle of arms and legs and shouting men. Finally its heart gave out and it died, and after a few days did not smell even as good as it had when it was alive. Now the men were crazed with fear and even more desperate to free themselves from its carcass. But they never did.
 


These, we think, should help.
                ___________________________________
 
Hey, we're outta here, fellow citizens. Next Wednesday, while not a celebration, is nevertheless an anniversary of sorts, and we'll take the day off to Think about Things. But we'll be right here the following week, full of P & V, and ready to report on the doings of what must presently be regarded as the most interesting government on the planet.
 
Adios, Rangers, Yippee-ty-yi-yi!
 
Hank