Mr. Bush Has a Dream
Hello, this is your President talking. Have I got an environmental plan for you!
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My fellow Americans, as your President, my most trusted advisors tell me that real leadership begins by following their advice on what’s good for America. I am happy to do so, because they also tell me that it’s the best advice available. And frankly, that’s good enough for me, which coming from me really means something, because I am, after all, the President.
The time for bipartisanship and civil debate is behind us. It’s always easier to tear down than to build up, and that is why I’m tearing down as much as I can. Energy, conservation, preservation, the environment—let’s do away with slogans and catchphrases and set national policy by humbly listening to the loudest voices.
These voices tell me that one of my dreams for America is to buy Oregon, rename it New California, and convert the “old” California into a maximum-security federal prison with a very tall fence around it. This will end the so-called California energy crisis, relieve our overcrowded jails, create thousands of jobs for screws and matrons and executioners, and save $383 trillion that will go toward a retroactive tax cut in the final weeks of my first term, allowing every American citizen to buy or lease the biggest SUV he or she can find—and incentivizing the oil industry to explore even in places where there is no oil!
It is also my dream—not the one featuring J. Lo, or the other one, where I win Poppy’s respect by getting a C-plus average at Yale—to see new logging roads crisscrossing our national parks and nature preserves, maybe even your own backyard. Because wherever Big Lumber needs to go, right now, to turn those green forests into greenbacks for the political action committees that have brought our political system to the state it is in today, is as much a part of the American Way as wood. Or there would be no Popsicle sticks or baseball bats. In fact, even as I speak, surveyors from the Army Corps of Engineers are staking out the symbolic logging road to be hacked from one end to the other of New York’s Central Park—too long a scandalously underutilized forestry resource.
And that’s not all. We need to confront America’s energy needs head-on with bold new initiatives, such as harnessing the nation’s unemployed for human power to manually turn the wheels of the thousands of electric miniturbines and treadmill generators planned for installation in parks, picnic grounds, campsites, and other useless spaces nationwide, generating billions of kilowatts of free electrical energy to keep our video games, illuminated billboards, and shoe-buffing machines—our very lifeblood—humming. Think of it: The more homeless, unfortunate, and unemployed among us, the more free electrical power!
As your President, and, for that matter, mine too, I am told that I am dedicated to solving the problem of our increasingly endangered freshwater supply. Mere half-measures may suffice for civil rights and education, but not for this. We must eliminate America’s outdated fetish for fresh, clean water within our lifetime, if not sooner. This would set industry free to turn every river and lake into the toxic brown sludge that says, loud and clear, “Costs way down, profits way up!” And it can be done, once our drinking and all water needs are met by the most plentiful and renewable water source on earth: tangy, sodium-, iodine-, and manganese-rich water from the sea. Try one sip: You’ll want more, and more, and more.
And let’s not ignore nuclear power. I think that’s spelled “nucular,” but statesmen can agree to disagree. The menace of a nuclear meltdown and runaway radiation, my fellow citizens, is exceeded only by the specter of giant utility companies being barred from using this cheap form of energy. That is why a national lottery should be conducted as the only fair way to assign the locations of all new nuclear power plants and waste storage facilities. My National Lottery Director, the former Secretary of State of Florida, reports that the results have come in even before the lottery has been held. Due to an amazing statistical quirk, she informs me that the states that voted Democratic in the last federal election will soon have a slew of nukes.
Finally, your President has our national wildlife refuges lined up in his sights. I intend to sign off as soon as I can find a pen on Operation PAVE (Protect America’s Valuable Ecology), a program already mobilizing to cover millions of square miles of fragile tundra, grasslands, marshes, and other wildlife habitats with a protective six-inch coating of fireproof asphalt. The prevention of broken buffalo ankles, skinned moose knees, and cut grizzly bear paws through the elimination of all rocks, bumps, gopher holes, and other hazards of nature can only be imagined.
Gas pipelines, oil pipelines, water pipelines—I think of these as the varicose veins of the economy. And I am now set to augment them with a new animal pipeline, sealing our wild four-footed friends into an all-steel, 2,000-mile-long habitat to keep them snug and safe from the strip-mining, oil drilling, and deforestation that I plan to get going, toot sweet.
Now I am overdue for my nap. But I promise you, my fellow Americans, and all you foreigners out there who are not yet Americans: I will sleep better knowing that I have left it up to you to carry out my responsibilities. Good luck, and good night.