|The Nossiter Net
The net that shall enmesh them all
Edited, Written, and Published by Josh Nossiter
|References On Request
Monday, November 27th, 2006
|The Nossiter Net is cast to snare some of the riper rascalities of the day. Comments? email@example.com|
|News Item: President Bush is seeking $500 million to build his presidential library at Southern Methodist U. in Dallas. The ambitious plans call for a new think tank, the Institute for Democracy, modeled on Stanford’s Hoover Institution. Its purpose will be to provide employment for writers and thinkers disposed to publish favorable accounts of the Bush presidency. The Bush team has already targeted “wealthy heiresses, Arab nations and captains of industry as potential ‘mega’ donors.” – The Daily News*
As word spreads of President Bush’s lavish, half-billion dollar memorial library, the attraction of sinecures for writers willing to put a positive spin on W’s presidency in exchange for pay has proven irresistible. From the far corners of the globe, job seekers are already besieging the library’s planning committee. Furthermore, the nature of Mr. Bush’s new enterprise has had the remarkable effect of self-selecting the most appropriate candidates:
To Glorious Library of Bush, Greetings! Allow me to introduce self, being distinguish journalist and noted anti-Semite, misogynist, and ignoramus. How are you today? I am ver well, thank you. I am most happy to put all my cultural learnings at disposal of President George, hollow be his name. My specialty is Central Asian studies. This violent, primitive, backward region is well-suited to library of Bush, himself such a fine exponent of all these qualities. My salary requirements are ver modest, my hygiene requirements nil. Waiting to hear of my glorious appointment most anxiously, Sincerely am BORAT.
My Dear Commander-in-Chief Bush,
I have long been an admirer of your fearless, not to say ruthless, willingness to employ force to achieve your objectives. Enemies, as you have so rightly demonstrated, are made to be crushed, speedily, bloodily, like ripe fruit, until all the juices run out, ye unto the fifth generation… Ahem. Pardon my passion, but like you, I love what I do. Perhaps we differ on some points. For example, some of my enemies, especially the plumper ones, found their way to my dinner table. You, I understand, prefer barbecued pig. I can assure you that a plump enemy is every bit as, if not more, sweet, should you ever wish to join me in one. But in so many other respects we are kindred souls. It would be a pleasure to work for your Institute for Democracy, a subject on which I have always had strong, if not violent, sentiments. Sincerely, your blood brother, My Excellency General Idi Amin Dada.
Remember all the good times? Those long phone calls about pick-up trucks, and clean-limbed youths, and Jesus? Our intimate meetings in your gracious home, a fire burning brightly in the hearth, but never as brightly as the sparkle in your eyes? I am, as you probably know, very available right now. In short, I need a job. I have a career’s worth of experience in praising the Lord. It wouldn’t be any kind of hump to get over to switch to praise of your own sweet self. Please please please pick me for your lovely new think tank. Love, the Rev. Ted Haggard.
As you see, I can readily adapt to the colorful idiom of your own splendidly red neck of the woods. Well, not to put too fine a point on it, old chap, I’d simply love to come work for your new Institute for Democracy. As you know, I’ve been defending you, and rather eloquently if I may say so, for the past six years. No matter how vitriolic the critic, or how accurate, I’ve been your staunchest defender. And so I think you’ll agree that I’m superbly well-qualified to continue the job, ex post facto, as it were. And here’s the thing: I’m going to be out of a job quite soon. Not having been in quite the position you were to enrich myself, I shall be in need of a steady income. Few, alas, on this side of the pond seem inclined to provide me with one. So I trust you will think seriously of me. As, it goes without saying, I always do of you. Ever yours, Tony B., MP.
Dear Mr. President,
I hope this finds you well. I understand that you seek defenders of the faith to sing your praises in the after-presidency. Know well that those of us trained to praise the one god and his prophet are peculiarly well-suited to serve your purpose. Praise, you might say, is our business. This application may come as a surprise, but consider how useful we have been to each other over the past years. Without me, would you have been re-elected? And I say with all gratitude that without you, I would not be the man I am today. Still, four wives are four wives – what with Laura, Condi, Karen, and Harriet, I’m sure you know whereof I speak. Perhaps too you’ll sympathize when I say that a fractious following, growing more fractious by the day, has become wearisome. Not to say dangerous. For men like us, naturally inclined to meditation and reflection, that is a double evil. I lay, therefore, my pen at your service. W. be praised, peace be upon you!
©Joshua C. Nossiter, 2006
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