12/14/2006 02:51 pm ET | Updated May 25, 2011

Celebrate V-I Day!

(Having apparently failed in my attempt to offer myself up as a face-saving scapegoat for the entire Iraq SNAFU, I'm trying a different tack. This one, like the previous, is based on the only reality that the White House accepts: whatever they wish was true. -Dave)

Congratulations Mister Bush on your glorious victory in Iraq! I dare say "our" glorious victory in Iraq, since by clearly laying out your vision, defining victory so unambiguously, standing firm (of course), and winning this war you have won me -- and everyone else -- over and made our beautiful nation once again the beacon of freedom and democracy and whatever else beacons generally beacon. Land, probably. Or a town, if you're in the plains. But that's not the point. YOU DID IT! YOU WON! TIME TO BRING THOSE VICTORIOUS TROOPS HOME!

Let's get those party planners doin' their thing and turn the sculptors loose on a new coin or two with your manly profile and the slogan "Yeah, I was right! You didn't believe me, but I was right! Munch my sac and pull my finger, retired Generals, Baker-Hamilton eggheads, and Colin 'Pottery Barn' Powell!" Maybe leave that last part un-sculpted, but we'll all know it's there, engraved in our hearts. Almost as importantly, let's GET THOSE TROOPS HOME.

Look how vindicated you are by today's victory! Unlike mere mortals, you got to wade into an issue that seemed (to the clueless Generals and the poopy UN and pretty much everybody else) well over your head, be strong-willed (never, as now-shamed critics like myself have said, "pigheaded") and un-bogged-down by details (not at all "devastatingly ignorant"), adapting to no shifting ground conditions (quote-unquote reality), and STILL win the day with zero negative consequences for you, your universally admired dynasty, or your personal (yeah!) historic (YEAH!) legacy. Because our enemies, whoever they are (were), have been obliterated, and the few remaining citizens of Iraq once again breathe the fresh (but slightly, delightfully petroleum-scented) air of freedom. They'll have even more breathing room once we BRING THE TROOPS HOME, so let's get on that.

Yes, December 14, 2006 will truly go down in history as the turning point for American benevolent belovedness, when the country turned from "creepy cousin who used to put firecrackers down your pants when you were kids and still -- STILL -- does that inside-out eyelids thing even though he's, like, fifty or whatever, but who you have to invite for Christmas because his mom will bitch to your mom if you don't" to the much more palatable "father figure who seems, moment by moment, like he's going to punch your teeth in, but really he's just a wise old bird who you should listen to once in a while, you ungrateful punk. Just look how he won in Iraq and BROUGHT THE TROOPS HOME." Feels good. Really good.

But there's no time to sit back on your laurels or on your duff! You have to call the Pentagon and find out why the hell they haven't BROUGHT THE TROOPS HOME yet! Quick! It'll take weeks to GET THEM HOME, and we need at least 140,000 for the big ticker tape parade! Hey, here's something: GET THOSE BOYS AND GIRLS HOME for New Year's! Picture whole divisions in uniform in Times Square, huh? And you yourself working the little button or whatever that drops that shiny ball! They'd rename it Bush Square, I betcha. And rightly so, what with you BRINGing THE TROOPS HOME like that.

So, heckuva job, Dubbie! Congratulations! Just don't forget to make that call. (I can't find the "real" number for the Pentagon switchboard, but Google digs up an old phreak phonebook that says it's 202-545-something I probably shouldn't say because it'd end up being the 1200-baud modem on the box that controls all the nukes. Why'n't'ya just ask somebody there in the office, K?) GET 'EM HOME, because if American troops have to spend one more minute out there in the newly liberated cradle of civilization, you'll look like an utterly pointless fool.


(PS - It's "Victory in Iraq," not the V-I from UrbanDictionary. C'mon, does EVERYTHING mean sex? Or maybe it is that, and I'm hoping to celebrate the end of the clusterV-I that is the Bush Iraq policy.)