Barbera Bush-the Old BattleAxe

Junior,

This time I've really had it. After spending thousands upon thousands of hard invested and inherited dollars on the best private schools, bribes to keep you out of harm's way in the military, "incentive money" to land you in the best fraternaties, and payoffs to my former business associates to land you gainful employment--after over FIFTY years of throwing my money down the drain, you're still an idiotic plebe.

I CANNOT believe you could be so stupid. I thought that a life in the public eye might actually force you to grow up at least a little, and for once in your miserable lackluster existence, might even inspire you to do something mature and adult-like. But no, you're still the same careless slow-witted sluggard that you've always been. I'm tired of it George, I really am. The White House isn't the frat house. Get a grip on that.

Next time you have even an inkling of an inclination to do something as imprudent as Operation Wilson Expose, don't plan on coming home for the holidays. And if you do make it until Christmas without doing something completely idiotic, you can still do us a favor by not coming home. I finally got Jeb calmed down about being cheated out of his other forty-nine states, and I don't want to go through that debacle all over again.

And another thing. Your mother was straightening up your underwear drawer at our retreat in Kennebunkport the other day. She found your little black book with alllllll your little pals' names in it. You know, the one with names like 'Rove," Colter," "Rush?" We know you're running with the drug crowd again, George. That explains a lot of things.