Personalized M&Ms for President Bush

When I woke up this morning, I was thinking about how grateful I am that I am not the President. Now, I know that some people aspire to have a job with a big title, and the power that goes with it, but I know my limits and I imagine that the stress of it would do me in. Besides, I strongly suspect that Laura is really the one that is in charge. Bush is a man. He probably can’t even match up his socks after they are pulled out of the dryer.

But I digress.

I started thinking about some creative ways I could get a message to the president. I keep seeing these ads for personalized M&M’s all over the Internet, so I spent way too much time thinking about what I would have printed on M&M’s, so they would be a meaningful gift for George W.

The first one was so easy. We went to a candlelight vigil the night before that was held in memory of the 4,000 US soldiers who have died in our war with Iraq. CBS news recently reported that 65% of Americans disapprove of the way George W. Bush handled events in Iraq, so apparently I am in good company. I would get some red M&M’s that say, “4,000 and counting!” From there my mind immediately jumped to a phrase that I ask fairly often, “What will the history books say?”

Speaking of history, George has struggled with reports that he has fallen off the wagon since being in office. Alcoholism is a serious disease that many Americans struggle with, so I think it would be nice to send him some M&M’s that say, “Bill W. is your friend”, so that George will remember that he is not alone.

I was going to stop there, I really was. It’s not like I can even afford to send the President some M&M’s. Between job layoffs, underemployment and the rising costs of gasoline and food, we stretch every penny just to stay alive. Then this nagging high-pitched voice started insisting that I was overlooking the obvious. Thank goodness I am a writer and not mentally challenged, because I am also lacking health insurance and could not afford any medication to quiet the voice. So, I did what any good red-blooded American writer would do. I listened and wrote it down.

“Too bad it’s not a pretzel.”

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