 |
 |
Children? |
|
|
|
 |
|
Exactly. And, as a mother, I wanted to save a few of those last remaining hours to squander on Jenna and the other one -- |
|
|
|
|
|
Barbara? |
|
|
|
|
|
OH, DEAR LORD! |
|
|
|
|
|
What's the matter? You're shaking like a wet spaniel, dear. |
|
|
|
|
|
Jiminy Cricket, you scared the life out of me, Betty! When you said "Barbara," I thought that gargoyle of a mother-in-law of mine with her viper's tongue was sneaking up behind me again. |
|
|
|
|
|
Laura, please come out from behind that lovely Empire settee, dear. It's hard to conduct an interview when I can't see when your eyes glaze over, dear. That's better. |
|
|
|
|
|
Goodness gracious me, I need another beverage.
(TO MAID:) Consuela, su madre neccessíta un mas vaso de la sangria del Santa María. ¡Fuerte! Por favor -- and not so much celery salt this time. Gracias, esclava.
|
|
|
|
|
|
What a lovely woman -- so quietly solicitous. Would that they could all be like that. |
|
|
|
|
|
Well, that's why Bushie wants to pander to the Hispanoricans -- they make wonderful help. And their English is so much easier to decipher than the Coloreds'. |
|
|
|
|
|
Goodness, it's no wonder that some have called you the perfect politician's wife -- |
|
|
|
|
|
Oh, that Karl Rove! I think he came up with that "King of Pop" thing for that poor old Michael Jackson woman, too. Did you see Michael Jackson's mug shot? |
|
|
|
|
|
| Yes. Pasadena Playhouse presents "Kabuki Mommie Dearest." |
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
My stars, Betty, you are so bad! Well, I'm not going to say anything bad about the poor little thing because we are all counting on him to take attention away from any, ur, ethical shortcomings around here that manage to get past one of the scores of paper-shredders Dick Cheney's thoughtfully placed along all the corridors. I've gone through four this month. |
|
|
|
|
|
Well, he didn't apprentice with Nixon for nothing, dear. But when you got married, did you see yourself as a politician's wife? |
|
|
|
|
|
Betty, can I be honest for the minute? |
|
|
|
|
|
Well, according to the standard White House press agreement, any honest remarks are to be off the record, no? |
|
|
|
|
|
Well, let's see how it plays. I can have always have my staff deny it later. |
|
|
|
|
|
Or I can wind up the victim of an unfortunate -- and totally, completely, without-question accidental -- death, like that foolish Enron executive that was about to yap. |
|
|
|
|
|
(SPEAKING INTO MICROPHONE) Oh, Betty, I'm sure I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about. (LAUGHS) Anyway, getting back to your question, since my beau -- not the one I killed, but the one I wanted to more than once -- (LAUGHS) knew I loathed politics and all the phony-baloney people who gravitated to it, he promised me if I joined him on the tequila-bottle littered road of life, I would never have to make my way through a mind-numbing political speech and pretend to care about a roomful of people who bored the socks off of one of my semi-formal outfits with an elastic waistband. |
|
|
|
|
|
The President has joked at numerous fundraising dinners that he is rather glad that was one promise that you broke, dear. |
|
|
|
|
|
Well, I hate to be anal about it, but it wasn't exactly my promise to break, Betty. It was his. (CRASHING SOUND) Oh, dear me! Look what I've done. |
|
|
|
|
|
Oh, don't worry. We'll just say that glass fell off the table by accident. |
|
|
|
|
|
Yes. That's good. |
|
|
|
|
|
And then hit the wall on the other side of the room, dislodging an old oil painting of that effeminate man rather suspiciously wearing panty hose. Don't cry, dear. If you ask me, the room is much more wholesome without it! All those wigs and hose -- it is no easy task worshiping Founding Fathers who were clearly a pack of transvestite Deists. Who knew that the Age of Enlightenment referred to nothing more than their hair color? |
|
|
|
|
|
That highball was the last of my favorite Waterford pattern. Well, goodness gracious me, life is just full of disappointments, isn't it? Not that I'm complaining. I never do. Because, heavens to Betsy -- |
|
|
|
|
|
Betty. |
|
|
|
|
|
Yes, heavens to Betty, what good does it do to complain? None. Not a bit. Which is why I don't do it. Ever. You know, sometimes I find myself peeking out from behind the drapes, staring out at the Washington monument all day long, sipping a beverage and just telling myself, over and over again that no matter how depressing things may look, as political folks, we must learn to memorize something pleasant, repeat it hundreds of times on television and parlay it into a way to seem cheerful. Thank the Lord for Peggy Noonan! |
|
|
|
|
|
NEXT PAGE | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | |
|
|
|
