The Real Reason the Bush Administration Has Been Stonewalling the Sept. 11 Commission
By J. Daniel Janzen

Crawford, Texas, August 6, 2001. Mid-afternoon at the Bush ranch. On the back porch, John Ashcroft, Paul Wolfowitz and Donald Rumsfeld are playing Risk while Dick Cheney polishes a shotgun beside them. Laura Bush is deeply immersed in a worn copy of "Gravity's Rainbow." On the lawn, President Bush turns backflips while chanting Yale cheers.

President Bush: ... Bulldog, bulldog, bow-wow-wow, our team will never fail. Whew! Still got it.

Cheney: You're an inspiration to us all, Mr. President.

(Enter the Intelligence Analyst, a nervous-looking man in a cheap suit. He joins the president on the lawn).

Intelligence: Mr. President? I'm sorry, I thought this was the time — I could come back later if you're busy.

President Bush: Not at all, not at all. You're the fella from the Agency. Spy stuff. Whatcha got for me, Agent 007?

Intelligence: Well, sir, I hate to disturb you on vacation like this, but it seems pretty important. We've been picking up a lot of sigint lately —

President Bush: Sig who? Sigmund the Sea Monster? Hey, Dickload, remember that show?

Cheney: Signal intelligence, Mr. President, and we've talked about that nickname. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got some killing to do. (Pumps shotgun and prowls the lawn intently).

Intelligence: Excuse me, Mr. President, it's just that we have reason to believe that Islamic terrorists are planning something pretty major, and if we wait for you to come back to Washington next month —

President Bush (calling into the house): Hey, Lesar, are you in there? Hey, Lesar-beam, how 'bout bring me a refill on my Country Time?

(Enter Dave Lesar, chairman, president and CEO of Halliburton, carrying a pitcher of lemonade).

Lesar: Way ahead of you, Mr. President.

President Bush: Secret Agent Man here is going to have to share with somebody. You don't mind, do ya, Seke?

Intelligence: Mr. President, we've actually kind of narrowed it down. We think they might hijack some airplanes. And they've talked in the past about using them as weapons, crashing them into —

(The rest of his words are drowned out by a series of shotgun blasts, then several rounds of handgun fire).

President Bush: Gosharootie, Dick, whadja hit?

Cheney: False alarm. Field mouse.

Wolfowitz: Can't be too careful.

Intelligence: Sir, there's also been a lot of noise coming out of Afghanistan. The Taliban seem to be growing more radical by the day — they just blew up those big Buddhist statues and all. Remember, sir, those really old ones carved into a mountain? We could be looking at something new here.

Lesar: He's got a point, Mr. President. You know, you really ought to send a few divisions out there to keep a lid on things. I can have full operational support up and running in a week. Anything Halliburton can do to help our country. (He winks at Cheney, who winks back).

President Bush: That's your answer for everything, Lesar-Faire. You know how I feel about nation-building. Hey, Dickmunch, let me hold that thing. (Scowling, Cheney hands him the shotgun. Bush pumps it, then aims it at the others one by one). There's a new sheriff in town, see, and he don't much care for —

(Both barrels fire. Intelligence, torn nearly in half by the blast, falls to his knees, mouths a few silent words and collapses).

President Bush: Oh my God, my administration is over.

Cheney: Not necessarily, sir. Ashcroft — grab a towel. Wipe the gun. Now put it in his hand. It was suicide. We all saw him shoot himself, right?

Ashcroft: He was having a homosexual affair, the pervert. I'll see to it.

Wolfowitz: I'm not even here. (He rises from the table, a large stain visible in the crotch of his pants, and exits in haste).

Rumsfeld: What about Lesar? Do we kill him, too?

Cheney: Don't be a fool. I need him. But I'll tell you what, Dave. If you keep your mouth shut, we'll make it very worth your while. Name your price.

Lesar: Well, Afghanistan would be nice and all, but it's kind of slim pickings. At the end of the day, you're left with a bunch of goats and a few poppy fields, and the heroin trade isn't really our style.

Rumsfeld: Say no more. How does Iraq sound? You help us take it over, and we'll throw in the oilfields once we're done. Everybody wins.

Cheney and Lesar (in unison): Now you're talking!

President Bush (sniffing the air): Man, all this smoke is putting me in mind of a barbecue. Hey Laura, sweetie pie? (Laura raises her eyes slowly from her book). Can we have ribs tonight? Beef ribs? The way I like?

Laura: Of course, dear. Of course we can.