Tuesday, February 03, 2004

Another Email

Obviously I can't vouch for this one either, but, you know, it's The Corner Standards for Journalism Day.

Dear Atrios,

I met George W. Bush back in 1972. I was getting my Ph.D. in clinical psychology and interning at a private drug rehab clinic for the sons and daughters of the rich and powerful in North Carolina. It was tucked away in the hills, away from the lime light and promised the utmost discretion. I had to sign a half-dozen forms swearing me to secrecy to get my internship.

In the late summer, this kid shows up, looking like shit, wild-eyed, thin as a rail. It was Bush, strung out on coke. When he first came, he was trembling with the shakes and almost hallucinating. (He wasn?t my patient, so I am not violating any therapeutic relationship by revealing this.) Current news reports indicate that he was supposed to be in Alabama, working on some political campaign. He wasn?t in Alabama, he was in North Carolina going through rehab. I heard his father was some sort of political big wig, but that was no surprise; every kid in there had rich parents. It went with the territory. So Bush didn?t attract much attention.

His father never showed up, but his mother came twice. She just tore him to pieces. Even though she was in his room, with the heavy door closed, everyone could hear her perfectly well, just ripping him up one side and down the other, how he was a worthless piece of shit and if he didn?t shape up he would be cast out of the family, penniless. She would go on and on for hours. She made everyone there feel so sorry for George.

The thing is, he did shape up while he was in rehab.

Needless to say, don?t release my name.

...lighten up people - I posted this to make fun of the Corner, not to claim it is a true story. Us liberals can't even play dirty in jest...