DEAR MR. PRESIDENT:

You're a very busy man.  So is it any wonder that I know things before you do?

I knew about the attack on the World Trade Center before you did.  I knew about Katrina, the levee breach and the crisis in the sports arena before you did.  I knew that your wife was being evacuated from the White House hours before you did.  Now it turns out I knew about the United Arab Emirates deal before you did.

George, I have one word for you:  Internet.

Unlike the New York Times, and some other journalists we know but won't mention, I reveal my sources, especially in the national interest.  And I think it might be helpful if you were kept a little more up to date on current events, especially those that cost us our lives, our homes and our security.  AOL, Google, Yahoo, VMS, Burelles, Wall Street Journal....great news alert services. 

Frankly, and I'm not speaking for myself, many Americans are likely made to feel terribly insecure by the fact that some crazy, fat, Jewish gay guy in a place called Hell's Kitchen is more up to speed on threats to this nation then the President of the United States.  I don't mind.  I don't mind sending you emails or texting you on my black Motorola RAZR when I get wind of something.  Really. I don't mind.

You don't even need to carry a cell phone or a pocket pc, that's what those hot studs in the dark glasses and wired ears are for.

I know.  You think they're stalkers.  Nope.  They are with you to serve and protect.  Use them.  Make them check the Internet, your emails, phone calls.  They can be very helpful.

Getting caught off guard sucks.  We all know that.  And when Rove throws open the Oval Office bathroom door and catches you doing a few lines, hey, he's your bud, you don't have to panic and pretend like you know what's going on or make up some cockamamie story like you broke one of Laura's Hummel figures and you were just trying to glue it back together again.

And it's not your fault that you invaded the wrong country.  We all make mistakes.  And they all look alike, after all.  Furthermore, Saddam was smelly. No loss.  So he had nothing to do with weapons of mass destruction or al-Qaeda.  Big deal.  He looks like crap in his tighty whiteys.  There isn't a gay man on Fashion Avenue who wasn't offended by that.  Death to Saddam.

We all know by now that you know shit.  We can all stop pretending otherwise.  Even Frist who thinks you can catch AIDS when someone cries, knows that you're a little bit of a dummy.  So don't sweat it.

And I'm really, really willing to help.  Just send me your email address and your cell phone number and we're good.  Totes.

OK, so big deal, so some other corrupt incompetent dude you were told to hire by your father and the Saudis tried to pull off a personal multi-billion dollar deal behind our backs.  So it would have put some of our major ports under the control of the guys who partly financed al-Qaeda and the 9/11 attacks, the guys who were among the few allies and supporters of the Taliban, the guys who provided the shipping hub for moving nuclear (nucular to you) weapons parts to Iran.  I'm with you. Let bygones be bygones and if it also lines your pockets with a few extra billion. Hey, good for you!  Just don't forget me on my birthday!

So here's the scoop.  You heard it hear first. Again.  Iraq is going down the toilet.  Blame it on Cheney, but not on a hunting trip.  Europe thinks you and your administration are a bunch of war criminals.  Blame it on Rummy and Condi. He's a religious nut and she's just butt ugly.  It's almost hurricane season again and nothing's been done to protect the swamp that used to be New Orleans from another flood.  No sweat.  Blame it on the Louisiana Democrats.  Ray Nagin, a crazy chocolate man and Babineaux Blanco, a fat cracker dike with some Frenchy name, and who is easier to blame than the French?  And don't worry about Hillary, you've pounded enough Americans over the head with that big fat bible of yours to make them all pretty damned stupid.  Just tell them that Hillary's been muff diving with Mary Cheney.  Who's going to doubt that?  And nobody will vote for a Lesbo.  And it will put you on the side of Bill in that marital dispute.  And everyone loves Bill and his big cigar.

So, George, go back to admiring that big sterling silver presidential seal on your really cool hand tooled cowboy boots.  We both know how much you like shiny things.  I've got you covered.

Warm regards,

Richard Jeffrey Rothstein