DEAR DUBYA:

Ya wonder why I lubya. I lub the way ya flub ya words and how ya squint your eyes and look as wise as a constipated hoot owl in disguise, how ya misconfabulate the tax rate of the super rich and super poor and misconfiggerate when you're not sure which is which and what is what and why is why and how ya lie with that sincere sneer that tells the world ya ain't here but are back in Texas drinking beer.

I lubya dedication to our nation by taking a long, long vacation at your Texas ranch without any anch in your panch to save licorthy and hoomannity and all that bluff stuff we have too much of enough and need more of less, more or less.

I lubya for how ya play at being president and promising things ya have no intent of dechoplivering and start shivering and quivering when ya say "I'm givering ya a choice, my way or else."

But most I like the way ya boast about the costa war---or is it a piece of peace?---and how we and they are dying, literally, to be a democopocrisy where ya can cheat and steal and feel free to ask for more of less and less of more and a discount at the discount store.

Wal-mart, thou art part and parcel of this, the land of fliberty-jiberty liberty.

May it always be thus. If the parking lot is full, take a bus.