*is too busy writing motivational speeches to remember Dominique's birthday; wouldn't send Devil Ducky a card even if he had remembered*

*long-suffering sigh* As usual, it's up to America to take a stand against tyranny when everyone else is just too busy to be bothered. Well, I have my priorities straight, and no amount of badminton or beach volleyball is going to distract me from saying something about what's going on over there in Georgia. After all, if the Russians are planning to gobble up that Georgia over there, what's to stop them gobbling up our Georgia next? I mean, think about it people! This is serious! CNN, Coca-Cola, the Atlanta Braves ... do we want to see them in Russian hands? *stops to consider* Well, I wouldn't actually mind too much if they moved CNN to Moscow and taught those journalists proper respect for their rightfully elected leaders. Put up a few photos of that Anna woman around the newsroom just as a little reminder.... *laughs* Just joking, just joking! No one treasures freedom of the press more than I do, and I don't bear any grudges for all the nasty and untrue things that have been written about me over the years, just like the awful things they're saying now about my good friend, Prime Minister Pooty Poot. *stops a moment and looks a little confused* Well, I don't mean I support what he's doing in the other Georgia, but I'm sure he has good reasons for it, even though sending in tanks and bombing them just because they don't want to change their name to Vladia seems a tiny bit excessive to me. I mean, heck, look at all the trouble I got into when I decided to bomb Iraq and those mobile weapons factories. I had a good reason for going to war, but that sure didn't stop the Germans and Devil Ducky and Jack from saying awful things about me. But I preserved because I was in the right, and who needed to drink French wine when we have good old American Coca-Cola made right down there in Atlanta, Georgia, and that's why Pooty Poot has to pull out the Russian troops and send them back home, because then the Georgian troops from the other Georgia can come back to Iraq and get back to helping make the world safe for democracy! And Coca-Cola from our Georgia will still be called Coca-Cola and not written in that funny Russian alphabet that no one can read, and no one would be able to pronounce when they tried to order it at the Atlanta Braves baseball games, assuming they were still called the Atlanta Braves and not some strange Russian name like the KBG Kossacks or something like that, and ... and ... well, you get my point! And now I need to go find Laura so we can go watch some swimming or beach volleyball or gymnastics or basketball or something. Football? Is there football? *wanders away, trailed by his Secret Service detail, inconspicuous as usual in their dark suits and sunglasses*

Yesterday was my birthday, but even though I sent out reminders, only Vladimir and Tony remembered it and wished me "Happy Birthday". And then Tony gave me a rose. A red rose. *blushes and looks down shyly* I didn't tell Laura where it came from....

*snaps out of his reverie, and looks around, scowling* So where were all those other so-called world leaders and friends? Angie and Jack and Devil Ducky and Silvio and Stephen (Stephen!) and Australian Johnny and Gordie and Dwarf Lord. All too busy to pick up the phone or mail a card, but did you see how most of them turned up at the birthday party Miss Wacca arranged? *mutters* Bunch of freeloaders, the lot of them.

*blushes and smirks* About my party. We sure did have a lot of fun! Jack said something naughty to Angie. And even though my real wife Laura wasn't there (probably a good thing, considering that male dancer who came out of the cake! *goes beet-red*), Condi was there, and she's been known to forget herself and almost call me her husband in front of other people! Anyway, it's all recorded for posterity, and you can see the pictures and what everyone did if you just click above where it says "my party". And be sure and look at how my bedroom is decorated. I just can't understand why Laura doesn't want to sleep in there with me.

***********************

ETA: The link works now.

Have just read the Op-Ed section of last Sunday's New York Times (hey, I've been busy the last few days fishing with Vladimir and giving Scooter a "Get Out of Jail Free" card) and am feeling a little unloved.  Tom wrote a piece about Iraq and said "Some things are true even if George Bush believes them."  *scowls*  Just what does he mean by that, I'd like to know?  What Maureen did is even worse, and I've copied out the whole thing she wrote and put it behind this cut:



*cries*  I feel just like Rodney Dangerfield.  I don't get no respect!  And if I hadn't sent out reminder notices, I bet everyone would forget my birthday tomorrow, too!

Found a clipping from that pinky-orange Financial Times newspaper taped to a sheet of paper and slipped in with my mail this morning.  Some "well-wisher" had printed the date (Jan. 18th) at the top of the page, and at the bottom "Mr. President, where was Dick Cheney last week?"


This is what the article said:

Yanukovich ally shot while hunting

Yevhen Kushnaryov, a political ally of Viktor Yanukovich, Ukraine's prime minister, died yesterday after being shot while hunting.

Authorities said it was too early to determine whether the incident was an accident or murder.


Well, to be perfectly truthful (which I always am, of course, even when writing in this private, secret, My Eyes Only, Keep Out and This Means YOU! journal), I don't exactly know where he was last week.  But I'm sure he wasn't anywhere near where that poor man was shot and killed.  He promised me after that little accident last fall that he wouldn't go out hunting again without letting me know first.  And since he didn't say he was going, then he didn't go, because he always tells me the truth, just like I always tell the American people the truth....

On the other hand, maybe it wouldn't hurt to have a little chat and remind him of that promise.

*picks up telephone*