Bush Sensed Foley's Perversity 10 Months Ago -- And I Knew About It, Too!

As the world now knows, Republican congressman, Mark Foley, who crusaded against child exploitation, resigned in disgrace on Friday after a slew of sexually explicit internet conversations with underage boys were made public.

"I think the Democratic leadership should have been told 10 months ago," said Rep. Jane Harman of California, top Democrat on the House Intelligence Committee, referring to the fact that the top Republican Denny Hastert had been told about the emails 10 months before. "I gather that basically nothing was done except that Foley was warned."

George W. Bush had an inkling something wasn't "right" about Foley 10 months ago. He asked his wife, Laura to remind him to look into it, but Ms. Bush forgot.

How do I know this? Because I have a life that is amazingly similar to the life of George Bush and I had a dream in which I was party to a conversation between George W. and Laura about his inkling.

I didn't think much of it at the time, but now I see how important it was. I wish I had taken the time to remind George W. to check into that Foley guy!

Anyway, here's the dream I had ten months ago about George W.'s inkling:

George and Laura Bush were getting ready for bed when the President, wadding up his jockey shorts and tossing them across the bedroom into the open hamper in the corner said suddenly: "Laura, honey, I got a bad feelin' about that Foley fellow down there in Florida."

"What kind of bad feelin', Lil' Daddy?" Laura asked lazily, slipping out of her brassiere and reaching for her negligee.

"Somethin' about him I don't like," George said. "The way he's always talkin' about helpin' the poor missin' kids? Remember that fella Father Bruce Ritter in New York? Everyone thought he was just helpin' those runaways, but he was engagin' in abominations with them poor boys!"

"He was a friend of Big Daddy's," Laura recalled, fluffing up her pillow and stretching out kittenishly. "I think he had dinner here at the White House, didn't he?" She reached over to her bedside table, found her cigarettes and ashtray. "Can you pour me a bourbon, Georgie Dub?" she asked, lighting up, blowing a perfect smoke ring toward the ceiling.

"Remind me in the mornin' to call ol' Denny Hastert," George said, pulling on his pajama bottoms. "I feel somethin' in my gut. Somethin' ain't right about him."

"I feel somethin', too, Georgie Dub," Laura said, slapping the empty space next to her on the bed. "So why you puttin' on your PJs, Lil' Daddy? Pour a bourbon for yourself and get on over here."

"What's the ol' sayin' about power you're always quotin' to me?" George asked absentmindedly, ignoring Laura's request.

"Oh, you mean "power tends to corrupt and absolute power corrupts absolutely?"

"Yeah, that's the one. Was that Shakespeare who said that?"

"It was Lord Acton, honey," Laura said gently. "Can you pour us some bourbons now. I've got a powerful thirst."

"Maybe I should have that put in a speech," George said, walking to the liquor cabinet. "Somethin' about freedom and corruption. How free and powerful people can either choose good clean power, or bad corrupt power."

"That's fine, honey," Laura said with a trace of impatience. "But no speechifying tonight, darling. Tonight I want to see that man of action that I married."

"What's that -- hmmm -- Oh yeah," George said, at last catching on to Laura's overtures. "I'm your man of action, baby!"

"Hot action," Laura corrected him. "Hot hot action between a married man and his wife. The only kind that God allows."

"What is it about folks like Ritter and Foley that they want that man boy action?" George wondered aloud, bringing the bourbon bottle and glasses over to the bed. "I mean I get sick just thinkin' about it."

"Oh I don't know, Georgie," Laura said, accepting the glass from her husband and taking a sip. "From what I hear tell in most of them porn videos there's almost always hot girl on girl action. Men seem to like that."

"But that's different," George said, raising his eyebrows. "That's entirely different. That's not a degrading abomination, that's just honest masculine curiousity thinkin' about that."

"Did you ever think about that, Georgie," Laura asked sweetly, stirring the bourbon with her index finger. "Did you ever want to have two women at once?"

George stood up, his face suddenly flushed. "And I suppose you want it with two men at the same time! Is that what you're sayin'? You and Big Daddy and Colin Powell, maybe? Don't you ever go and think that I'll forget how you -- oh my God in Heaven: did you do it with both of them at the same time? -- you harlot, you slut, you horny bitch!"

"No, Georgie, no!" Laura said fearfully, tears springing to her eyes. "Don't start that again! I'm faithful, I'm your faithful wife -- you know that!"

George W. pointed to the chest of drawers across the room. "Is that the chiffarobe you asked Colin to bust up for you? Is that the one?"

Then he pointed to Laura. "If anybody's gonna be busting up your chiffarobe, it's gonna be me!"

That's when I woke up.

I remember I thought that I should probably email George W. as a second reminder to Laura's, but I was sure she'd remember to tell him. I'm not blaming Laura for not reminding him. I couldn't blame her without blaming myself. I just thought the American people should know that just like his gut feelings about WMD in Iraq, George W. had a gut feeling about Foley, too.

Sometimes I'm just so proud to be so similar to George W.!


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